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 the ballroom, and it is here that Gwendoline comes during the lanciers and encounters Hartley, the villain.  Do you suppose that even a villain in an amateur show would go to a ball with spiked shoes on?

Perkins (wearily).  But I still fail to see what is to spoil the rug.  Does the villain set fire to the conservatory in this play, or does he assassinate the virtuous hero here and spill his gore on the floor?

Bradley.  What a blood-and-thunder idea of the drama you have!  Of course he doesn’t.  There isn’t a death in the whole play, and it’s two hours long.  One or two people in the audience may die while the play is going on, but people who haven’t strong constitutions shouldn’t attend amateur shows.