Perkins (with a grin).  There’ll be two of us!  We can start a hospital on the top floor.

Mrs. Perkins (returning).  Here—­here’s the line.

[Yardsley takes it hurriedly, and, tying it into a noose, hastens out.

Perkins (rising).  If I never walk again, I must see this. [Limps to window.

Mrs. Bradley.  He’s coming, Mr. Yardsley; don’t miss him.

Barlow.  Steady, Bob; get in the light.

Mrs. Perkins.  Suppose it catches his neck?

Perkins.  This beats the Wild West Show.

[A crash.

All.  He’s got him.

[All rush out, except Perkins.

Perkins.  Oh yes; he learned in a minute, he did.  Easy!  Ha, ha! 
Gad! it almost makes me forget my pain.

Enter all, asking.  “Is he hurt?  How do you feel?” etc.  Yardsley has rope-end in right hand; noose is tied about Bradley’s body, his coat and clothing are much the worse for wear.

Mrs. Bradley.  Poor, dear Edward!

Bradley (weakly kissing her).  Don’t m-mind me.  I—­I’m all right—­ only a little exhilarated—­and somewhat—­er—­somewhat breathless.  Feel like a bird—­on toast.  Yardsley, you’re a brick.  But that pavement—­that was a pile of ’em, and the hardest I ever encountered.  I always thought asphalt was soft—­who said asphalt was soft?

Perkins.  Easy to learn, though, eh?

Bradley.  Too easy.  I’d have gone on—­er—­forever—­er—­if it hadn’t been for Bob.

Mrs. Bradley.  I’ll give it up, Ned dear, if you say so.

Mrs. Perkins (affectionately).  That’s sweet of you, Emma.

Bradley.  No, indeed, you won’t, for—­er—­I—­I rather like it while it’s going on, and when I learn to get off—­

Yardsley.  Which you will very shortly.

Barlow.  You bet! he’s a dandy.  I taught him.

Bradley.  I think I’ll adore it.

Perkins.  Buy a Czar wheel, Brad.  Best in the market; weighs only twenty pounds.  I’ve got one with a ki-yi pump and a pneumatic gun you can have for ten dollars.

Jennie (at the door).  Supper is served ma’am. [Exit.

Mrs. Perkins.  Let us go out and restore our nerves.  Come, Emma.

[She and Mrs. Bradley walk out.

Yardsley (aside).  I say, Brad, you owe me five.

Bradley.  What for?

Yardsley.  Bail.

Barlow.  Cheap too.

Yardsley.  Very.  I think he ought to open a bottle besides.

Perkins.  I’ll attend to the bottles.  We’ll have three.

Barlow.  Two will be enough.

Perkins.  Three—­two of fizz for you and Bob and the ladies, and if
Bradley will agree, I’ll split a quart of Pond’s Extract with him.

Bradley.  I’ll go you.  I think I could take care of the whole quart myself.

Perkins.  Then we’ll make it four bottles.

Mrs. Perkins (appearing at door with her arm about Mrs. Bradley). 
Aren’t you coming?