The Bicyclers and Three Other Farces Part 13

Barlow. His grandmother?

Yardsley. No--idiot--Henderson. He's thrown up his grandmother--oh, hang it!--you know what I mean.

Mrs. Perkins. I hope you're not going to net gervous, Mr. Yardsley.

If you break down, what on earth will become of the rest of us?

Yardsley. I hope not--but I am. I'm as nervous as a cat living its ninth life. Here we are three or four hours before the performance, and no one knows whether we'll be able to go through it or not. My reputation as a manager is at stake. Barlow, how are you getting along on those lines in the revelation scene?

Barlow. Had 'em down fine on the cable-car as I came up. Ha-ha!

People thought I was crazy, I guess. I was so full of it I kept repeating it softly to myself all the way up; but when we got to that Fourteenth Street curve the car gave a fearful lurch and fairly shook the words "villanous viper" out of me; and as I was standing when we began the turn, and was left confronting a testy old gentleman upon whose feet I had trodden twice, at the finish, I nearly got into trouble.

Perkins (wish a laugh). Made a scene, eh?

Barlow (joining in the laugh). Who wouldn't? Each time I stepped on his foot he glared--regular Macbeth stare--like this: "Is this a jagger which I see before me?" (Suits action to word.) But I never let on I saw, but continued to rehea.r.s.e. When the lurch came, however, and I toppled over on top of him, grabbed his shoulders in my hands to keep from sprawling in his lap, and hissed "villanous viper" in his face, he was inclined to resent it forcibly.

Yardsley. I don't blame him. Seems to me a man of your intelligence ought to know better than to rehea.r.s.e on a cable-car, anyhow, to say nothing of stepping on a man's corns.

Barlow. Of course I apologized; but he was a persistent old codger, and demanded an explanation of my epithet.

Perkins. It's a wonder he didn't have you put off. A man doesn't like to be insulted even if he does ride on the cable.

Barlow. Oh, I appeased him. I told him I was rehearsing. That I was an amateur actor.

Mrs. Perkins. And of course he was satisfied.

Barlow. Yes; at least I judge so. He said that my confession was humiliation enough, without his announcing to the public what he thought I was; and he added, to the man next him, that he thought the public was exposed to enough danger on the cable cars without having lunatics thrust upon them at every turning.

Perkins. He must have been a bright old man.

Mrs. Perkins. Or a very crabbed old person.

Barlow. Oh, well, it was an experience, but it rather upset me, and for the life of me I haven't been able to remember the opening lines of the scene since.

Perkins. Well, if the audience drive you off the stage, you can sue the cable company. They ought to be careful how they lurch a man's brains out.

Yardsley. That's right--joke ahead. It's fun for you. All you've got to do is to sit out in front and pull the curtain up and down when we ring a bell. You're a great one to talk about brains, you are. It's a wonder to me you don't swoon under your responsibility.

Mrs. Perkins (rehearsing). So once for all, as he says, so say I--

Perkins. Ah! Indeed! You take his part, do you?

Mrs. Perkins (rehearsing). You must leave this house at once and forever. I once thought I loved you, but now all is changed, and I take this opportunity to thank my deliverer, Fenderson Featherhead--

Perkins. Oh--ah--rehearsing. I see. I thought you'd gone over to the enemy, my dear. Featherhead, step up and accept the lady's thanks. Cobb, join me in the dining room, and we'll drown our differences in tasting the punch, which, between you and me, is likely to be the best part of to-night's function, for I made it myself though, if Tom Harkaway is in the audience, and Bess follows out her plan of having the flowing bowl within reach all the evening, I'm afraid it'll need an under-study along about nine o'clock. He's a dry fellow, that Harkaway.

[Exit Perkins, dragging Yardsley by the arm.

Barlow (calling after them). Don't you touch it, Bob. It's potent stuff. One gla.s.s may postpone the performance.

Yardsley (from behind the scenes). Never fear for me, my boy. I've got a head, I have.

Barlow. Well, don't get another. (Turning to Mrs. Perkins.) Suppose we rehea.r.s.e that scene where I acquaint you with Cobb's real position in life?

Mrs. Perkins. Very well. I'm ready. I'm to sit here, am I not?

[Seats herself by table.

Barlow. And I come in here. (Begins.) Ah, Lady Ellen, I am glad to find you alone, for I have that to say--

Mrs. Perkins. Won't you be seated, Mr. Featherhead? It was such a delightful surprise to see you at the d.u.c.h.ess of Barncastle's last evening. I had supposed you still in Ireland.

Barlow (aside). Good. She little thinks that I have just returned from Australia, where I have at last discovered the ident.i.ty of the real Earl of Puddingford, as well as that of this bogus Muddleton, who, by his nefarious crime, has deprived Henry Cobb of his patrimony, of his t.i.tle, aye, even of his name. She little wots that this--this adventurer who has so strongly interested her by his nepotic--

Mrs. Perkins (interrupting). Hypnotic, Mr. Barlow.

Barlow. What did I say?

Mrs. Perkins. Nepotic.

Barlow. How stupid of me! I'll begin again.

Mrs. Perkins (desperately). Oh, pray don't. Go on from where you left off. That's a fearfully long aside, anyhow, and I go nearly crazy every time you say it. I don't know what to do with myself.

It's easy enough for Mr. Yardsley to say occupy yourself somehow, but what I want to know is, how? I can't look inquiringly at you all that time, waiting for you to say "Ireland! Oh, yes--yes--just over from Dublin." I can't lean against the mantel-piece and gaze into the fire, because the mantel-piece is only canvas, and would fall down if I did.

Barlow. It's a long aside, Mrs. Perkins, but it's awfully important, and I don't see how we can cut it down. It's really the turning- point of the play, in which I reveal the true state of affairs to the audience.

Mrs. Perkins (with a sigh). I suppose that's true. I'll have to stand it. But can't I be doing some sewing?

Barlow. Certainly not. You are the daughter of a peer. They never sew. You might be playing a piano, but there's hardly room on the stage for that, and, besides, it would interfere with my aside, which needs a hush to be made impressive. Where did I leave off?

Mrs. Perkins. Hypnotic power.

Barlow. Oh yes. (Resumes rehearsing.) She little wots that this-- this adventurer who has so strangely interested her with his hypnotic power is the man who twenty years ago forged her father's name to the t.i.tle-deeds of Burnington, drove him to his ruin, and subsequently, through a likeness so like as to bewilder and confuse even a mother's eyes, has forced the rightful Earl of Puddingford out into a cruel world, to live and starve as Henry Cobb.

[Bell.

Mrs. Perkins. Ah, I fancy the Bradleys are here at last. I do hope Edward knows his part.

Enter Yardsley.

Yardsley. They've come, and we can begin at last.

Enter Perkins, Miss Andrews, and Mr. and Mrs. Bradley.

Mrs. Perkins. Take off your things, Emma. Let me take your cloak, Dorothy. Does Edward feel equal--

Mrs. Bradley. He says so. Knows it word for word, he says, though I've been so busy with my own--[They go out talking.

Yardsley. Well, Brad, how goes it? Know your part?