Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

And it's high time you got one, being a widower.
You.
Sure is.
Here you are, Ellie.
What say you to that, fair maiden?
What charms were you toting?
While I transfuse into this simple, untutored mind the charm, the polish, the splendor,
That is correct.
Just a mite greasy from all that oil you smear on yourself.
I want to help her.
You didn't even guess one ingredient.
Yes, dear one.
And as we walk, we always keep a smile upon our face.
Come a-swoopin', like a dove.
I ain't never Kipled.
All right.
I know.
You look pure Park Avenue and you speak pure Tobacco Road.
Oh, I ain't scared.
Darling, darling, you're delirious.
Next year, she'll be too old to get a husband.
How now, brown cow?
What's in it, Granny?
Ah, Kipling.
I can't wait to see Ellie all polished up and talking like Sonny and Miss Jean.
Oh, here, bring some of this penicillin.