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dley. 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
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