The Bicyclers and Three Other Farces by John Kendrick Bangs (best book club books TXT) 📕

stepladder? Thaddeus, got any nails?

Mrs. Perkins. I--I think we'd rather have a frame, Mr. Yardsley. _We_ can have one made, can't we, Thaddeus?

Perkins. Certainly. We can have anything made. (Aside.) I suppose I'd build a theatre for 'em if they asked me to, I'm such a confounded--

Yardsley. Oh no. Of course, if you'd prefer it, we'll send a frame. I don't think nails would look well in this ceiling, after all. Temporarily, though, Barlow, you might hang those portieres from the picture-moulding.

Barlow. There isn't any.

Yardsley. Well, then, we'll have to imagine how it will look.

Mrs. Bradley. All the bric-a-brac will have to be taken from the room.

Yardsley. True. Perkins, you know the house better than we do. Suppose you take the bric-a-brac out and put it where it will be safe.

Perkins. Certainly.

[Begins to remove bric-a-brac.

Yardsley. Now let's count up. Here's the fountain.

Barlow. Yes; only we haven't the hose.

Bradley. Well, make a note of it.

Mrs. Perkins. Emma, can't we help Thaddeus?

Mrs. Bradley. Of course. I'll carry out the fender, and you take the andirons.

[They do so.

Yardsley. The entrance will be here, and here will be the curtain. How about footlights?

Bradley. This bracket will do for a connection. Any plumber can take this bracket off and fasten a rubber pipe to it.

Yardsley. First-rate. Barlow, make a note of one plumber, one length of rubber pipe, and foot-lights.

Bradley. And don't forget to have potted plants and palms, and so forth, galore.

Barlow. No. I'll make a note of that. Will this sofa do for a conservatory?

Yardsley. Jove! Glad you mentioned that. Won't do at all. Thaddeus! (No answer.) I hope we haven't driven him to drink.

Bradley. So do I. I'd rather he'd lead us to it.

Yardsley. Thaddeus!

Perkins (from without). Well?

Yardsley. Do you happen to have any conservatory benches in the house?

Mrs. Perkins (appearing in doorway). We have a patent laundry table.

Barlow. Just the thing.

Yardsley (calling). Bring up the patent laundry table, Thaddeus. (To Bradley.) What is a patent laundry table?

Bradley. It's what my wife calls the cook's delight. It's an ironing-board on wash-days, a supper table at supper-time, and on the cook's reception days it can be turned into a settee.

Yardsley. It describes well.

Perkins (from a distance). Hi! come down and help me with this thing. I can't carry it up alone.

Yardsley. All right, Perk. Bradley, you and Barlow help Thaddeus. I'll move these other chairs and tables out. It's getting late, and we'll have to hustle.

[Exit Barlow. Bradley meanwhile has been removing pictures from the walls, and, as Yardsley speaks, is standing on the stepladder reaching up for a painting.

Bradley. What do you take me for--twins?

Yardsley. Don't get mad, now, Bradley. If there's anything that can add to the terror of amateur theatricals it's temper.

Mrs. Bradley (from without). Edward, come here right away. I want you to move the hat-stand, and see how many people can be seated in this hall.

Bradley. Oh yes, certainly, my dear--of course. Right away. My name is Legion--or Dennis.

Yardsley. That's the spirit. (A crash is heard without.) Great Scott! What's that?

Mrs. Perkins (without). Oh, Thaddeus!

Bradley. They've dropped the cook's delight.

[He comes down from the stepladder. He and Yardsley go out. The pictures are piled up on the floor, the furniture is topsy-turvy, and the portieres lie in a heap on the hearth.

Enter Mrs. Perkins.

Mrs. Perkins. Dear, dear, dear! What a mess! And poor Thaddeus! I'm glad he wasn't hurt; but I--I'm afraid I heard him say words I never heard him say before when Mr. Barlow let the table slip. Wish I hadn't said anything about the table.

Enter Mrs. Bradley.

Mrs. Bradley. These men will drive me crazy. They are making more fuss carrying that laundry table up-stairs than if it were a house; and the worst of it is our husbands are losing their tempers.

Mrs. Perkins. Well, I don't wonder. It must be awfully trying to have a laundry table fall on you.

Mrs. Bradley. Oh, Thaddeus is angelic, but Edward is absolutely inexcusable. He swore a minute ago, and it sounded particularly profane because he had a screw and a picture-hook in his mouth.

Yardsley (outside). It's almost as heavy as the piano. I don't see why, either.

[The four men appear at the door, staggering under the weight of the laundry table.

Perkins (as they set it down). Whew! That's what I call work. What makes this thing so heavy?

Mrs. Bradley (as she opens a drawer and takes out a half-dozen patent flat-irons and a handle). This has something to do with it. Why didn't you take out the drawer first?

Yardsley. It wasn't my fault. They'd started with it before I took hold. I didn't know it had a drawer, though I did wonder what it was that rattled around inside of it.

Bradley. It wasn't for me to suggest taking the drawer out. Thaddeus ought to have thought of that.

Perkins (angrily). Well, of all--

Mrs. Perkins. Never mind. It's here, and it's all right.

Yardsley. That's so. We musn't quarrel. If we get started, we'll never stop. Now, Perkins, roll up that rug, and we'll get things placed, and then we'll be through.

Barlow. Come on; I'll help. Bradley, get those pictures off the rug. Don't be so careless of Mrs. Perkins's property.

Bradley. Careless? See here now, Barlow--

Mrs. Bradley. Now, Edward--no temper. Take the pictures out.

Bradley. And where shall I take the pictures out to?

Yardsley. Put 'em on the dining-room table.

Perkins (aside). Throw 'em out the window, for all I care.

Bradley. Eh?

Perkins. Nothing. I--er--I only said to put 'em--er--to put 'em wherever you pleased.

Bradley. But _I_ can't say where they're to go, Thaddeus. This isn't my house.

Perkins (aside). No--worse luck--it's mine.

Mrs. Perkins. Oh--put them in the dining-room; they'll be safe there.

Bradley. I will.

[He begins carrying the pictures out. Perkins, Barlow, and Yardsley roll up the rug.

Yardsley. There! You fellows might as well carry that out too; and then we'll be ready for the scene.

Barlow. Come along, Thaddeus. You're earning your pay to-night.

Perkins (desperately). May I take my coat off? I'm boiling.

Mrs. Bradley. Certainly. I wonder you didn't think of it before.

Perkins. Think? I never think.

Yardsley. Well, go ahead in your thoughtless way and get the rug out. You are delaying us.

Perkins. All right. Come on. Barlow, are you ready?

Barlow. I am. [They drag the rug out.

Yardsley. At last. (Replaces the tub.) There's the fountain. Now where shall we put the cook's delight?

Mrs. Perkins. Over here, I should say.

Mrs. Bradley. I think it would be better here.

Bradley (who has returned). Put it half-way between 'em, Yardsley. I say give in always to the ladies; and when they don't agree, compromise. It's a mighty poor woman that isn't half right occasionally.

Mrs. Bradley. Edward!

Yardsley (adopting the suggestion). There! How's that?

Perkins (returning). Perfect. I never saw such an original conservatory in my life.

Mrs. Perkins. I suppose it's all right. What do you think, Emma?

Mrs. Bradley. Why, it's simply fine. Of course it requires a little imagination to see it as it will be on the night of the performance; but in general I don't see how it could be better.

Barlow. No--nor I. It's great as it is, but when we get the hot-bed covers hung, and the fountain playing, and plants arranged gracefully all around, it will be ideal. I say we ought to give Yardsley a vote of thanks.

Perkins. That's so. We're very much indebted to Yardsley.

Yardsley. Never mind that. I enjoy the work very much.

Perkins. So glad. (Aside.) I wonder when _we_ get a vote of thanks?

Bradley (looking at his watch). By Jove, Emma, it's after eleven!

Mrs. Bradley. After eleven? Dear me! I had no idea it was as late as that. How time flies when you are enjoying yourself! Really, Edward, you ought not to have overlooked the time. You know--

Bradley. I supposed you knew we couldn't pull a house down in five minutes.

Perkins. What's become of the clock?

Mrs. Perkins. I don't know. Who took the clock out?

Barlow. I did. It's under the dining-room table.

Mrs. Bradley. Well, we mustn't keep Bessie up another moment. Good- night, my dear. We have had a delightful time.

Mrs. Perkins. Good-night. I am sure we have enjoyed it.

Perkins (aside). Oh yes, indeed; _we_ haven't had so much fun since the children had the mumps.

Yardsley. Well, so-long, Perkins. Thanks for your help.

Perkins. By-by.

Barlow. Good-night.

Yardsley. Don't bother about fixing up to-night, Perkins. I'll be around to-morrow evening and help put things in order again.

[They all go out. The good-nights are repeated, and finally the front door is closed.

Re-enter Perkins, who falls dejectedly on the settee, followed by Mrs. Perkins, who gives a rueful glance at the room.

Perkins. I'm glad Yardsley's coming to fix us up again. I _never_ could do it.

Mrs. Perkins. Then I must. I can't ask Jennie to do it, she'd discharge us at once, and I can't have my drawing-room left this way over Sunday.

Perkins (wearily). Oh, well, shall we do it now?

Mrs. Perkins. No, you poor dear man; we'll stay home from church to- morrow morning and do it. It won't be any harder work than reading the Sunday newspapers. What have you there?

Perkins (looking at two tickets he has abstracted from his vest- pocket). Tickets for Irving--this evening--Lyons Mail--third row from the stage. I was just thinking--

Mrs. Perkins. Don't tell me what you were thinking, my dear. It can't be expressible in polite language.

Perkins. You are wrong there, my dear. I wasn't thinking cuss-words at all. I was only reflecting that we didn't miss much anyhow, under the circumstances.

Mrs. Perkins. Miss much? Why, Thaddeus, what _do_ you mean?