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.
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