You know we offered our parlor
for the performance. The audience are to sit out in the hall.
Perkins. Oh--ah! Why, of course! Certainly! It had slipped my
mind; and--ah--what else?
Bradley. Why, we're here to-night to arrange the scene. Don't tell
us you didn't know it. Bob Yardsley's coming, and Barlow.
Yardsley's a great man for amateur dramatics; he bosses things so
pleasantly that you don't know you're being ordered about like a
slave. I believe he could persuade a man to hammer nails into his
piano-case if he wanted it done, he's so insinuatingly lovely about
it all.
Perkins (absently). 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.
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