Yardsley.  All right, Perk.  Bradley, you and Barlow help Thaddeus.  I’ll move these other chairs and tables out.  It’s getting late, and we’ll have to hustle.

[Exit Barlow.  Bradley meanwhile has been removing pictures from the walls, and, as Yardsley speaks, is standing on the stepladder reaching up for a painting.

Bradley.  What do you take me for—­twins?

Yardsley.  Don’t get mad, now, Bradley.  If there’s anything that can add to the terror of amateur theatricals it’s temper.

Mrs. Bradley (from without).  Edward, come here right away.  I want you to move the hat-stand, and see how many people can be seated in this hall.

Bradley.  Oh yes, certainly, my dear—­of course.  Right away.  My name is Legion—­or Dennis.

Yardsley.  That’s the spirit. (A crash is heard without.) Great Scott!  What’s that?

Mrs. Perkins (without).  Oh, Thaddeus!

Bradley.  They’ve dropped the cook’s delight.

[He comes down from the stepladder.  He and Yardsley go out.  The pictures are piled up on the floor, the furniture is topsy-turvy, and the portieres lie in a heap on the hearth.

Enter Mrs. Perkins.

Mrs. Perkins.  Dear, dear, dear!  What a mess!  And poor Thaddeus!  I’m glad he wasn’t hurt; but I—­I’m afraid I heard him say words I never heard him say before when Mr. Barlow let the table slip.  Wish I hadn’t said anything about the table.

Enter Mrs. Bradley.

Mrs. Bradley.  These men will drive me crazy.  They are making more fuss carrying that laundry table up-stairs than if it were a house; and the worst of it is our husbands are losing their tempers.

Mrs. Perkins.  Well, I don’t wonder.  It must be awfully trying to have a laundry table fall on you.

Mrs. Bradley.  Oh, Thaddeus is angelic, but Edward is absolutely inexcusable.  He swore a minute ago, and it sounded particularly profane because he had a screw and a picture-hook in his mouth.

Yardsley (outside).  It’s almost as heavy as the piano.  I don’t see why, either.

[The four men appear at the door, staggering under the weight of the laundry table.

Perkins (as they set it down).  Whew!  That’s what I call work.  What makes this thing so heavy?

Mrs. Bradley (as she opens a drawer and takes out a half-dozen patent flat-irons and a handle).  This has something to do with it.  Why didn’t you take out the drawer first?

Yardsley.  It wasn’t my fault.  They’d started with it before I took hold.  I didn’t know it had a drawer, though I did wonder what it was that rattled around inside of it.

Bradley.  It wasn’t for me to suggest taking the drawer out.  Thaddeus ought to have thought of that.

Perkins (angrily).  Well, of all—­

Mrs. Perkins.  Never mind.  It’s here, and it’s all right.

Yardsley.  That’s so.  We musn’t quarrel.  If we get started, we’ll never stop.  Now, Perkins, roll up that rug, and we’ll get things placed, and then we’ll be through.