always say give a man credit for doing what he can, whether he is
intelligent or not. Of course we don't expect you to hang on to the
portieres and the stepladder while you are pushing the piano, Thad.
That's too much to expect of any man of your size; some men might do
it, but not all. Drop the portieres.

Perkins. Where'll I put 'em?

Yardsley. 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.) There! That's first-rate. You can put a
camp-chair on top of it for the prompter to sit on; there's nothing
like having the prompter up high, because amateur actors when they
forget their lines, always look up in the air. Perkins, go sit out
in the hall and imagine yourself an enthusiastic audience--will you?--
and tell us if you can see the piano. If you can see it, we'll have
to put it somewhere else.

Perkins. Do you mean it?

Mrs. Bradley. Of course he doesn't, Mr. Perkins. It's impossible to
see it from the hall. Now, I think the rug ought to come up.

Mrs. Perkins. Dear me! what for?

Yardsley. Oh, it wouldn't do at all to have that rug in the
conservatory, Mrs. Perkins. Besides, I should be afraid it would be
spoiled.

Perkins. Spoiled? What would spoil it? Are you going to wear
spiked shoes?

Barlow. Spiked shoes? Thaddeus, really you ought to have your mind
examined. This scene is supposed to be just off th