Put them on the stepladder.
Perkins (impatiently). And where shall I put the stepladder--on the
piano?
Mrs. Perkins (coming to the rescue). I'll take care of these things,
Thaddeus, dear.
Bradley. That's right; put everything off on your wife. What shirks
some men are!
Yardsley. Now, then, Perkins, lend us your shoulder, and--one, two,
three--push! Ah! She starts; she moves; she seems to feel the
thrill of life along her keel. We must have gained an inch. Once
more, now. My, but this is a heavy piano!
Bradley. Must be full of Wagnerian music. Why don't you get a piano
of lighter quality, Perkins? This isn't any kind of an instrument
for amateur stage-hands to manage.
Perkins. I'll know better next time. But is it where you want it
now?
Yardsley. Not a bit of it. We need one more push. Get her rolling,
and keep her rolling until she stands over there in that corner; and
be careful to stop her in time, I should hate to push a piano through
one of my host's parlor walls just for the want of a little care.
(They push until the piano stands against the wall on the other side
of the room, keyboard in.
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