Babs Is Blackballed at the Sorority

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Being a parent to a teenage girl like Barbara Riley is a job that requires tact, patience, understanding, and intelligence. And Chester A. Riley is not a man to leave a job undone. In fact, he is constantly reminding his wife to do it.

Peg, you've got to do something about bed. Now, if you don't, I will. Well, what's wrong now? What's wrong? Here it is midnight and she ain't home yet. Oh, Riley, it's only nine o'clock. Okay, so in three hours it'll be midnight.

That girl's got no business going out without telling us where. Now she did tell. She went over to a friend Bertha's house. Oh. Now we lack deer. Well how do you know she went to Bertha's house? How do you know she isn't out gallivanting around with some boy?

Because I believe Babes when she tells me something. Sides I walk part way with her and I saw her go into Bertha's house with my own eyes. Oh. Now are you satisfied? No. How do we know Bertha isn't a boy?

Oh, for heaven's sake. Well, you know how they all wear jeans today. How can you tell? I mean... Oh, say Mom. And where have you been at this hour of the night, young man, and those pajamas?

Well, I've been in bed, Pa. Oh. I just wanted to drink a water. Now, look, Paque, don't try and change the subject by dragging Junior into the conversation. We're talking about Babs. Oh, Biley, will you stop worrying about Babs?