The Bicyclers and Three Other Farces Part 21

Yardsley (bristling up). Now what do you mean by that?

Dorothy. I think you are both of you horrid this afternoon. You are so quarrelsome. Do you two always quarrel, or is this merely a little afternoon's diversion got up for my especial benefit?

Barlow (with dignity). I never quarrel.

Yardsley. Nor I. I simply differ sometimes, that's all. I never had an unpleasant word with Jack in my life. Did I, Jack?

Barlow. Never. I always avoid a fracas, however great the provocation.

Dorothy (desperately). Then let us have a cup of tea together and be more sociable. I have always noticed that tea promotes sociability-- haven't you, Mr. Yardsley?

Yardsley. Always. (Aside.) Among women.

Barlow. What say?

[Dorothy rises and rings the bell for Jennie.

Yardsley. I say that I am very fond of tea.

Barlow. So am I--here. [Rises and looks at pictures. Yardsley meanwhile sits in moody silence.

Dorothy (returning). You seem to have something on your mind, Mr.

Yardsley. I never knew you to be so solemn before.

Yardsley. I have something on my mind, Miss Dorothy. It's--

Barlow (coming forward). Wise man, cold weather like this. It would be terrible if you let your mind go out in cold weather without anything on it. Might catch cold in your idea.

Dorothy. I wonder why Jennie doesn't come? I shall have to ring again.

[Pushes electric b.u.t.ton again.

Yardsley (with an effort at brilliance). The kitchen belle doesn't seem to work.

Dorothy. Ordinarily she does, but she seems to be upset by something this afternoon. I'm afraid she's in love. If you will excuse me a moment I will go and prepare the tea myself.

Barlow. Do; good! Then we shall not need the sugar.

Yardsley. You might omit the spoons too, after a remark like that, Miss Dorothy.

Dorothy. We'll omit Mr. Barlow's spoon. I'll bring some for you and me. [She goes out.

Yardsley (with a laugh). That's one on you, Barlow. But I say, old man (taking out his watch and snapping the cover to three or four times), it's getting very late--after five now. If you want to go with Billy Wilkins you'd better take up your hat and walk. I'll say good-bye to Miss Andrews for you.

Barlow. Thanks. Too late now. You said Billie wouldn't wait after four thirty.

Yardsley. Did I say four thirty? I meant five thirty. Anyhow, Billie isn't over-prompt. Better go.

Barlow. You seem mighty anxious to get rid of me.

Yardsley. I? Not at all, my dear boy--not at all. I'm very, very fond of you, but I thought you'd prefer opera to me. Don't you see?

That's where my modesty comes in. You're so fond of a good chat I thought you'd want to go to-night. Wilkins has a box.

Barlow. You said seats a little while ago.

Yardsley. Of course I did. And why not? There are seats in boxes.

Didn't you know that?

Barlow. Look here, Yardsley, what's up, anyhow? You've been deuced queer to-day. What are you after?

Yardsley (tragically). Shall I confide in you? Can I, with a sense of confidence that you will not betray me?

Barlow (eagerly). Yes, Bob. Go on. What is it? I'll never give you away, and I _may_ be able to give you some good advice.

Yardsley. I am here to--to--to rob the house! Business has been bad, and one must live. [Barlow looks at him in disgust.

Yardsley (mockingly). You have my secret, John Barlow. Remember that it was wrung from me in confidence. You must not betray me.

Turn your back while I surrept.i.tiously remove the piano and the gas- fixtures, won't you?

Barlow (looking at him thoughtfully). Yardsley, I have done you an injustice.

Yardsley. Indeed?

Barlow. Yes. Some one claimed, at the club, the other day, that you were the biggest donkey in existence, and I denied it. I was wrong, old man, I was wrong, and I apologize. You are.

Yardsley. You are too modest, Jack. You forget--yourself.

Barlow. Well, perhaps I do; but I've nothing to conceal, and you have. You've been behaving in a most incomprehensible fashion this afternoon, as if you owned the house.

Yardsley. Well, what of it? Do you own it?

Barlow. No, I don't, but--

Yardsley. But you hope to. Well, I have no such mercenary motive.

I'm not after the house.

Barlow (bristling up). After the house? Mercenary motive? I demand an explanation of those words. What do you mean?

Yardsley. I mean this, Jack Barlow: I mean that I am here for--for my own reasons; but you--you have come here for the purpose of--

Dorothy enters wish a tray, upon which are the tea things.

Barlow (about to retort to Yardsley, perceiving Dorothy). Ah! Let me a.s.sist you.

Dorothy. Thank you so much. I really believe I never needed help more. (She delivers the tray to Barlow, who sets it on the table.

Dorothy, exhausted, drops into a chair.) Fan me--quick--or I shall faint. I've--I've had an awful time, and I really don't know what to do!

Barlow and Yardsley (together). Why, what's the matter?