Mrs. Perkins.  That’s true, I fancy.

Mrs. Bradley.  Very.  It would be very rude for one of your invited guests to cast a gloom over your evening by dying.

Yardsley.  It is seldom done among people who know what is what.  But to explain the point you want explained, Thaddeus:  the rug might be spoiled by a leak in the fountain.

Mrs. Perkins.  The fountain?

Perkins.  You don’t mean to say you’re going to have a fountain playing here?

Bradley.  Certainly.  A conservatory without a fountain would be like “Hamlet” with Yorick’s skull left out.  There’s to be a fountain playing here, and a band playing in the next room—­all in a green light, too.  It’ll be highly effective.

Perkins.  But how—­how are you going to make the fountain go?  Is it to spurt real water?

Yardsley.  Of course.  Did you ever see a fountain spurt sawdust or lemonade?  It’s not a soda-water fountain either, but a straight temperance affair, such as you’ll find in the homes of all truly good people.  Now don’t get excited and raise obstacles.  The thing is simple enough if you know how to do it.  Got one of those English bath-tubs in the house?

Perkins.  No.  But, of course, if you want a bath-tub, I’ll have a regular porcelain one with running water, hot and cold, put in—­two of ’em, if you wish.  Anything to oblige.

Yardsley.  No; stationary bath-tubs are useful, but not exactly adapted to a conservatory.

Barlow.  I brought my tub with me.  I knew Perkins hadn’t one, and so I thought I’d better come provided.  It’s out in the hall.  I’ll get it. [Exit.

Mrs. Bradley (to Mrs. Perkins).  He’s just splendid! never forgets anything.

Mrs. Perkins.  I should say not.  But, Mr. Yardsley, a bath-tub, even an English one, will not look very well, will it?

Yardsley.  Oh, very.  You see, we’ll put it in the centre of the room.  Just move that table out into the hall, Thaddeus. (Enter Barlow with tub.) Ah! now I’ll show you. (Perkins removes table.) You see, we put the tub here in the middle of the floor, then we surround it with potted plants.  That conceals the tub, and there’s your fountain.

Perkins.  But the water—­how do you get that?

Bradley.  We buy it in bottles, of course, and hire a boy to come in and pour it out every two minutes.  How dull you are, Perkins!  I’m surprised at you.

Perkins.  I’m not over-bright, I must confess, when it comes to building fountains in parlors, with no basis but an English bath-tub to work on.

Yardsley.  Did you ever hear of such a thing as a length of hose with a nozzle on one end and a Croton-water pipe at the other, Thaddeus Perkins?

Mrs. Perkins.  But where is the Croton-water pipe?

Mrs. Bradley.  In the butler’s pantry.  The hose can be carried through the dining-room, across the hall into this room, and it will be dreadfully effective; and so safe, too, in case the curtain catches fire.