The Bicyclers and Three Other Farces | Page 8

I'll get a hammer. [Exit.
Mrs. Perkins (aside). I must explain to Thaddeus. He'll never forgive
me. (Aloud.) Thaddeus is so forgetful that I don't believe he can find
that hammer, so if you'll excuse me I'll go help him. [Exit.
Bradley. Wonder what's up? They don't quarrel, do they?

Mrs. Bradley. I don't believe any one could quarrel with Bessie
Perkins--not even a man.
Bradley. Well, they're queer. Acted as if they weren't glad to see us.
Mrs. Bradley. Oh, that's all your imagination. (Looks about the room.)
That table will have to be taken out, and all these chairs and cabinets;
and the rug will never do.
Bradley. Why not? I think the rug will look first-rate.
Mrs. Bradley. A rug like that in a conservatory? [A ring at the
front-door bell is heard.
Bradley. Ah! maybe that's Yardsley. I hope so. If Perkins and his wife
are out of sorts we want to hurry up and get through.
Mrs. Bradley. Oh, we'll be through by twelve o'clock.
Enter Yardsley and Barlow.
Yardsley. Ah! here we are at last. The wreckers have arrove. Where's
Perkins?
Barlow. Taken to the woods, I fancy. I say, Bob, don't you think before
we begin we'd better give Perkins ether? He'll suffer dreadful agony.
Enter Mrs. Perkins, wiping her eyes.
Mrs. Perkins. How do you do, Mr. Barlow? and you, Mr. Yardsley? So
glad to see you. Thaddeus will be down in a minute. He--ah--he forgot
about the--the meeting here to-night, and he--he put on his dress-coat.
Yardsley. Bad thing to lift a piano in. Better be without any coat. But I
say we begin--eh? If you don't mind, Mrs. Perkins. We've got a great
deal to do, and unfortunately hours are limited in length as well as in
number. Ah! that fireplace must be covered up. Wouldn't do to have a
fireplace in a conservatory. Wilt all the flowers in ten minutes.

Mrs. Perkins (meekly). You needn't have the fire lit, need you?
Barlow. No--but--a fireplace without fire in it seems sort of--of bald,
don't you think?
Yardsley. Bald? Splendid word applied to a fireplace. So few fireplaces
have hair.
Mrs. Bradley. Oh, it could be covered up without any trouble, Bessie.
Can't we have those dining-room portieres to hang in front of it?
Yardsley. Just the thing. Dining-room portieres always look well,
whether they're in a conservatory or a street scene. (Enter Perkins.)
Hello, Thaddeus! How d' y'? Got your overalls on?
Perkins (trying to appear serene). Yes. I'm ready for anything.
Anything I can do?
Bradley. Yes--look pleasant. You look as if you were going to have
your picture taken, or a tooth pulled. Haven't you a smile you don't
need that you can give us? This isn't a funeral.
Perkins (assuming a grin). How'll that do?
Barlow. First-rate. We'll have to make you act next. That's the most
villanous grin I ever saw.
Yardsley. I'll write a tragedy to go with it. But I say, Thad, we want
those dining-room portieres of yours. Get 'em down for us, will you?
Perkins. Dining-room portieres! What for?
Mrs. Perkins. They all think the fireplace would better be hid,
Thaddeus, dear. It wouldn't look well in a conservatory.
Perkins. I suppose not. And the dining-room portieres are wanted to
cover up the fireplace?
Yardsley. Precisely. You have a managerial brain, Thaddeus. You can

see at once what a dining-room portiere is good for. If ever I am cast
away on a desert island, with nothing but a dining-room portiere for
solace, I hope you'll be along to take charge of it. In your hands its
possibilities are absolutely unlimited. Get them for us, old man; and
while you are about it, bring a stepladder. (Exit Perkins, dejectedly.)
Now, Barlow, you and Bradley help me with this piano. Pianos may do
well enough in gardens or pirates' caves, but for conservatories they're
not worth a rap.
Mrs. Bradley. Wait a moment. We must take the bric-a-brac from the
top of it before you touch it. If there are two incompatible things in this
world, they are men and bric-a-brac.
Mrs. Perkins. You are so thoughtful, though I am sure that Mr.
Yardsley would not break anything willingly.
Barlow. Nothing but the ten commandments.
Yardsley. They aren't bric-a-brac; and I thank you, Mrs. Perkins, for
your expression of confidence. I wouldn't intentionally go into the
house of another man and toss his Sevres up in the air, or throw his
Royal Worcester down-stairs, except under very great provocation.
(Mrs. Perkins and Mrs. Bradley have by this time removed the bric-a-
brac from the piano--an upright.) Now, boys, are you ready?
Bradley. Where is it to be moved to?
Yardsley. Where would you prefer to have it, Mrs. Perkins?
Mrs. Perkins. Oh, I have no preference in