Fifteen years ago, a half-dozen houses stuck here and there. There's the old cemetery,...

Real Estate Salesman: Fifteen years ago, a half-dozen houses stuck here and there. There's the old cemetery, squirrels, buttercups, daisies. Dozens of the prettiest little homes you ever saw. Ninety per cent owned by suckers who used to pay rent to you. Your Potter's Field, my dear Mr. Employer, is becoming just that. And are the local yokels making with those David and Goliath wisecracks! Mr. Potter: Oh, they are, are they? Even thought they know the Baileys haven't made a dime out of it. Real Estate Salesman: You know very well why. The Baileys were all chumps. Every one of these homes is worth twice what it cost the Building and Loan to build. If I were you, Mr. Potter... Mr. Potter: Well, you are not me. Real Estate Salesman: As I say, it's no skin off my nose. But one of these days this bright young man is going to be asking George Bailey for a job.