The Bicyclers and Three Other Farces | Page 6

grimace at his ankle). Yes; but there are other fearful things in this world.
Mrs. Bradley. I shall go crazy if he isn't stopped. He'll kill himself.
Yardsley (leaving window hurriedly). I have it. Got a length of clothes-line, Mrs. Perkins?
Barlow. What the dickens--
Mrs. Perkins. Yes.
[She rushes from the room.
Mrs. Bradley. What for?
Yardsley. I'll lasso him, next time he comes around.
Perkins (with a grin). There'll be two of us! We can start a hospital on the top floor.
Mrs. Perkins (returning). Here--here's the line.
[Yardsley takes it hurriedly, and, tying it into a noose, hastens out.
Perkins (rising). If I never walk again, I must see this. [Limps to window.
Mrs. Bradley. He's coming, Mr. Yardsley; don't miss him.
Barlow. Steady, Bob; get in the light.
Mrs. Perkins. Suppose it catches his neck?
Perkins. This beats the Wild West Show.
[A crash.
All. He's got him.
[All rush out, except Perkins.
Perkins. Oh yes; he learned in a minute, he did. Easy! Ha, ha! Gad! it almost makes me forget my pain.
Enter all, asking. "Is he hurt? How do you feel?" etc. Yardsley has rope-end in right hand; noose is tied about Bradley's body, his coat and clothing are much the worse for wear.
Mrs. Bradley. Poor, dear Edward!
Bradley (weakly kissing her). Don't m-mind me. I--I'm all right-- only a little exhilarated--and somewhat--er--somewhat breathless. Feel like a bird--on toast. Yardsley, you're a brick. But that pavement--that was a pile of 'em, and the hardest I ever encountered. I always thought asphalt was soft--who said asphalt was soft?
Perkins. Easy to learn, though, eh?
Bradley. Too easy. I'd have gone on--er--forever--er--if it hadn't been for Bob.
Mrs. Bradley. I'll give it up, Ned dear, if you say so.
Mrs. Perkins (affectionately). That's sweet of you, Emma.
Bradley. No, indeed, you won't, for--er--I--I rather like it while it's going on, and when I learn to get off--
Yardsley. Which you will very shortly.
Barlow. You bet! he's a dandy. I taught him.
Bradley. I think I'll adore it.
Perkins. Buy a Czar wheel, Brad. Best in the market; weighs only twenty pounds. I've got one with a ki-yi pump and a pneumatic gun you can have for ten dollars.
Jennie (at the door). Supper is served ma'am. [Exit.
Mrs. Perkins. Let us go out and restore our nerves. Come, Emma.
[She and Mrs. Bradley walk out.
Yardsley (aside). I say, Brad, you owe me five.
Bradley. What for?
Yardsley. Bail.
Barlow. Cheap too.
Yardsley. Very. I think he ought to open a bottle besides.
Perkins. I'll attend to the bottles. We'll have three.
Barlow. Two will be enough.
Perkins. Three--two of fizz for you and Bob and the ladies, and if Bradley will agree, I'll split a quart of Pond's Extract with him.
Bradley. I'll go you. I think I could take care of the whole quart myself.
Perkins. Then we'll make it four bottles.
Mrs. Perkins (appearing at door with her arm about Mrs. Bradley). Aren't you coming?
Perkins (rising with difficulty). As fast as we can, my dear. We've been taking lessons, you know, and can't move as rapidly as the rest of you. We're a trifle--ah--a trifle tired. Yardsley, you tow Bradley into the dining room; and, Barlow, kindly pretend I'm a shawl, will you, and carry me in.
Bradley. I'll buy a wheel to-morrow.
Perkins. Don't, Brad. I--I'll give you mine. Fact is, old man, I don't exactly like feeling like a bird.
[They go out, and as the last, Perkins and Bradley, disappear stiffly through the portieres, the curtain falls.

A DRAMATIC EVENING

CHARACTERS:
MR. THADDEUS PERKINS, a victim. MR. EDWARD BRADLEY, a friend in disguise. MR. ROBERT YARDSLEY, an amiable villain. MR. JOHN BARLOW, the amiable villain's assistant. MRS. THADDEUS PERKINS, a martyr. MRS. EDWARD BRADLEY, a woman of executive ability. JENNIE, a housemaid.
The scene is placed in the drawing-room of Mr. and Mrs. Thaddeus Perkins, of New York. The time is a Saturday evening in the early spring, and the hour is approaching eight. The curtain, rising, discovers Perkins, in evening dress, reading a newspaper by the light of a lamp on the table. Mrs. Perkins is seated on the other side of the table, buttoning her gloves. Her wrap is on a chair near at hand. The room is gracefully over-furnished.
Mrs. Perkins. Where are the seats, Thaddeus?
Perkins. Third row; and, by Jove! Bess (looking at his watch), we must hurry. It is getting on towards eight now. The curtain rises at 8.15.
Mrs. Perkins. The carriage hasn't come yet. It isn't more than a ten minutes' drive to the theatre.
Perkins. That's true, but there are so many carriage-folk going to see Irving that if we don't start early we'll find ourselves on the end of the line, and the first act will be half over before we can reach our seats.
Mrs. Perkins. I'm so glad we've got good seats--down near the front. I despise opera-glasses, and seats under the galleries are so oppressive.
Perkins. Well, I don't know. For The Lyons Mail I think a seat in the front row