The Bicyclers and Three Other Farces Part 12

Enter Perkins with Yardsley. Yardsley holds bicycle cap in hand.

Yardsley. By Jove! I'm tired. Everything's been going wrong to- day. Overslept myself, to begin with, and somebody stole my hat at the club, and left me this bicycle cap in its place. How are you getting along, Mrs. Perkins? You weren't letter perfect yesterday, you know.

Mrs. Perkins. I'm getting it all right, I think. I've been rehearsing all day.

Perkins. You bet your life on that, Henry Cobb, real Earl of Puddingford. If you aren't restored to your estates and t.i.tle this night, it won't be for any lack of suffering on my part. Give me your biking cap, unless you want to use it in the play. I'll hang it up. [Exit.

Yardsley. Thanks. (Looks about the room.) Everything here seems to be right.

Perkins returns.

Mrs. Perkins (rehearsing). And henceforth, my lord, let us understand one another.

Perkins. Certainly, my dear. I'll go and have myself translated.

Would you prefer me in French, German, or English?

Yardsley. I hope it goes all right to-night. But, I must say, I don't like the prospect. This beastly behavior of Henderson's has knocked me out.

Perkins. What's the matter with Henderson?

Mrs. Perkins. He hasn't withdrawn, has he?

Yardsley. That's just what he has done. He sent me word this morning.

Mrs. Perkins. But what excuse does he offer? At the last moment, too!

Yardsley. None at all--absolutely. There was some airy persiflage in his note about having to go to Boston at six o'clock.

Grandmother's sick or something. He writes so badly I couldn't make out whether she was rich or sick. I fancy it's a little of both.

Possibly if she wasn't rich he wouldn't care so much when she fell ill. That's the trouble with these New-Englanders, anyhow--they've always got grandmothers to fall down at crucial moments. Next time I go into this sort of thing it'll be with a crowd without known ancestors.

Perkins. 'Tisn't Chet's fault, though. You don't suspect him of having poisoned his grandmother just to get out of playing, do you?

Mrs. Perkins. Oh, Thaddeus, do be serious!

Perkins. I was never more so, my dear. Poisoning one's grandmother is no light crime.

Yardsley. Well, I've a notion that the whole thing is faked up.

Henderson has an idea that he's a little tin Booth, and just because I called him down the other night at our first rehearsal he's mad.

That's the milk in the cocoanut, I think. He's one of those fellows you can't tell anything to, and when I kicked because he wore a white tie with a dinner coat, he got mad and said he was going to dress the part his own way or not at all.

Perkins. I think he was right.

Yardsley. Oh yes, of course I'm never right. What am I stage- manager for?

Perkins. Oh, as for that, of course, you are the one in authority, but you were wrong about the white tie and the dinner coat. He was a bogus earl, an adventurer, wasn't he?

Yardsley. Yes, he was, but--

Perkins. Well, no real earl would wear a white tie with a dinner coat unless he were visiting in America. I grant you that if he were going to a reception in New York he might wear a pair of golf trousers with a dinner coat, but in this instance his dress simply showed his bogusity, as it were. He merely dressed the part.

Yardsley. He doesn't want to make it too plain, however, so I was right after all. His villany is to come as a painful surprise.

Mrs. Perkins. But what are we to do? Have you got anybody else to take his part?

Yardsley. Yes. I telegraphed right off to Bradley, explained as far as I could in a telegram without using all the balance in the treasury, and he answered all right. Said he'd bone at the part all day, and would be here at five letter perfect.

Mrs. Perkins (with a sigh of relief). Good. He's very quick at learning a thing. I imagine it will be all right. I've known him to learn a harder part than that in five hours. It'll be pleasanter for Emma, too. She didn't like those scenes she had as Lady Amaranth the adventuress with Henderson. He kept her off the middle of the stage all the time; but with her husband it will be different.

Perkins. I'll bet on that! No good-natured husband of a new women ever gets within a mile of the centre of the stage while she's on it.

She'll have stage room to burn in her scenes with Brad.

Mrs. Perkins. I think it was awfully mean of Mr. Henderson, though.

Yardsley. Disgusting.

Perkins. It was inconsiderate. So hard on his grandmother, too, to be compelled to knock under just to get him out of a disagreeble situation. She ought to disinherit him.

Yardsley. Oh, it's easy enough to be sarcastic.

Perkins. That's so, Bob; that's why I never am. It's commonplace.

(Bell rings.) Ah, there's the rest of the troupe, I guess. [Exit.

Yardsley (looking at his watch). It's about time. They're twenty minutes late.

Mrs. Perkins (rehearsing). So once for all, Lord Muddleton-- (derisively)--ha, ha! Lord Muddleton! that _is_ amusing. You--Lord Muddleton! Ha, ha! Once for all, Lord Muddleton. I acquaint you with my determination. I shall not tell Henry Cobb what I have discovered, since I have promised, but none the less he shall know.

Walls have ears--even that oaken chest by yinder wonder--

Yardsley (irritated). Excuse me, Mrs. Perkins; but really you must get that phrase right. You've called it yinder wonder at every rehearsal we've had so far. I know it's difficult to get right.

Yonder window is one of those beastly combinations that playwrights employ to make the Thespian's pathway to fame a rocky one; but you must get over it, and say it right. Practise it for an hour, if need be--yonder window, yonder winder--I mean, yonder window--until it comes easy.

Mrs. Perkins (meekly). I have, and it doesn't seem to do any good.

I've tried and tried to get it right, but yonder window is all I can say.

Yardsley. But yinder window is--I should say, yonder window is correct.

Mrs. Perkins. Well, I'm just going to change it, that's all. It shall be yonder cas.e.m.e.nt.

Yardsley. Good idea. Only don't say yonder bas.e.m.e.nt by mistake.

Enter Perkins, followed by Barlow.

Perkins. Here's Mr. Featherhead. He's rehearsing too. As I opened the door he said, "Give me good-morrow."

Barlow (smiling). Yes; and Thaddeus replied, "Good-yesterday, me friend," in tones which reminded me of Irving with bronchitis.

What's this I hear about Henderson's grandmother?

Yardsley. Thrown up the part.