[Mrs. Perkins rises, and is about to don her wrap as Mr. Perkins goes towards the door.

Enter Mr. and Mrs. Bradley. Perkins staggers backward in surprise.

Mrs. Perkins lets her wrap fall to the floor, an expression of dismay on her face.

Mrs. Perkins (aside). Dear me! I'd forgotten all about it. _This_ is the night the club is to meet here!

Bradley. Ah, Perkins, how d' y' do? Glad to see me? Gad! you don't look it.

Perkins. Glad is a word which scarcely expresses my feelings, Bradley. I--I'm simply de-lighted. (Aside to Mrs. Perkins, who has been greeting Mrs. Bradley.) Here's a kettle of fish. We must get rid of them, or we'll miss The Lyons Mail.

Mrs. Bradley. You two are always so formal. The idea of your putting on your dress suit, Thaddeus! It'll be ruined before we are half through this evening.

Bradley. Certainly, Perkins. Why, man, when you've been moving furniture and taking up carpets and ripping out fireplaces for an hour or two that coat of yours will be a rag--a veritable rag that the ragman himself would be dubious about buying.

Perkins (aside). Are these folk crazy? Or am I? (Aloud.) Pulling up fireplaces? Moving out furniture? Am I to be dispossessed?

Mrs. Bradley. Not by your landlord, but _you_ know what amateur dramatics are.

Bradley. I doubt it. He wouldn't have let us have 'em here if he had known.

Perkins. Amateur--amateur dramatics?

Mrs. Perkins. Certainly, Thaddeus. 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. (Looks about the room.) That table will have to be taken out, and all these chairs and cabinets; and the rug will never do.

Bradley. Why not? I think the rug will look first-rate.

Mrs. Bradley. A rug like that in a conservatory? [A ring at the front-door bell is heard.

Bradley. Ah! maybe that's Yardsley. I hope so. If Perkins and his wife are out of sorts we want to hurry up and get through.

Mrs. Bradley. Oh, we'll be through by twelve o'clock.

Enter Yardsley and Barlow.

Yardsley. Ah! here we are at last. The wreckers have arrove.

Where's Perkins?

Barlow. Taken to the woods, I fancy. I say, Bob, don't you think before we begin we'd better give Perkins ether? He'll suffer dreadful agony.

Enter Mrs. Perkins, wiping her eyes.

Mrs. Perkins. How do you do, Mr. Barlow? and you, Mr. Yardsley? So glad to see you. Thaddeus will be down in a minute. He--ah--he forgot about the--the meeting here to-night, and he--he put on his dress-coat.

Yardsley. Bad thing to lift a piano in. Better be without any coat.

But I say we begin--eh? If you don't mind, Mrs. Perkins. We've got a great deal to do, and unfortunately hours are limited in length as well as in number. Ah! that fireplace must be covered up. Wouldn't do to have a fireplace in a conservatory. Wilt all the flowers in ten minutes.

Mrs. Perkins (meekly). You needn't have the fire lit, need you?

Barlow. No--but--a fireplace without fire in it seems sort of--of bald, don't you think?

Yardsley. Bald? Splendid word applied to a fireplace. So few fireplaces have hair.

Mrs. Bradley. Oh, it could be covered up without any trouble, Bessie. Can't we have those dining-room portieres to hang in front of it?

Yardsley. Just the thing. Dining-room portieres always look well, whether they're in a conservatory or a street scene. (Enter Perkins.) h.e.l.lo, Thaddeus! How d' y'? Got your overalls on?

Perkins (trying to appear serene). Yes. I'm ready for anything.

Anything I can do?

Bradley. Yes--look pleasant. You look as if you were going to have your picture taken, or a tooth pulled. Haven't you a smile you don't need that you can give us? This isn't a funeral.

Perkins (a.s.suming a grin). How'll that do?

Barlow. First-rate. We'll have to make you act next. That's the most villanous grin I ever saw.

Yardsley. I'll write a tragedy to go with it. But I say, Thad, we want those dining-room portieres of yours. Get 'em down for us, will you?

Perkins. Dining-room portieres! What for?

Mrs. Perkins. They all think the fireplace would better be hid, Thaddeus, dear. It wouldn't look well in a conservatory.

Perkins. I suppose not. And the dining-room portieres are wanted to cover up the fireplace?

Yardsley. Precisely. You have a managerial brain, Thaddeus. _You_ can see at once what a dining-room portiere is good for. If ever I am cast away on a desert island, with nothing but a dining-room portiere for solace, I hope you'll be along to take charge of it. In your hands its possibilities are absolutely unlimited. Get them for us, old man; and while you are about it, bring a stepladder. (Exit Perkins, dejectedly.) Now, Barlow, you and Bradley help me with this piano. Pianos may do well enough in gardens or pirates' caves, but for conservatories they're not worth a rap.

Mrs. Bradley. Wait a moment. We must take the bric-a-brac from the top of it before you touch it. If there are two incompatible things in this world, they are men and bric-a-brac.

Mrs. Perkins. You are _so_ thoughtful, though I am sure that Mr.

Yardsley would not break anything willingly.