Mrs. Perkins.  Oh dear, Teddy! do behave.  It’s simple enough—­

Perkins.  Simple enough?  Well, I like that.  How am I to tell one bell from another if—­

Yardsley (dryly).  I suppose if the clock strikes ten you’ll seesaw the curtain up and down ten times, once for each stroke—­eh?

Bradley (poking his head in at the door).  What’s the matter in here?  Emma’s been waiting for her cue like a hundred-yards runner before the pistol.

Perkins.  Oh, it’s the usual trouble with Yardsley.  He wants me to chaperon the universe.

Yardsley.  It’s the usual row with you.  You never want to do anything straight.  You seem to think that curtain’s an elevator, and you’re the boy—­yanking it up and down at your pleasure, and—­

Mrs. Perkins.  Oh, please don’t quarrel!  Can’t you see, Ted, it’s growing late?  We’ll never have the play rehearsed, and it’s barely three hours now before the audience will arrive.

Perkins.  Very well—­I’ll give in—­only I think you ought to have different bells—­

Yardsley.  I’ll have a trolley-car gong for you, if it’ll only make you do the work properly.  Have you got a bicycle bell?

Mrs. Perkins.  Yes; that will do nicely for the curtain, and the desk push-button bell will do for the front-door bell.  Have you got that in your mind, Teddy dear?

Perkins.  I feel as if I had the whole bicycle in my mind.  I can feel the wheels.  Bike for curtain, push for front door.  That’s all right.  I wouldn’t mind pushing for the front door myself.  All ready?  All right.  In the absence of the bicycle bell, I’ll be its under-study for once.  B-r-r-r-r-r-r-r! [Raises curtain.

Yardsley.  Now, Mrs. Perkins, begin with “I wonder why—­”

Mrs. Perkins (rehearsing).  I wonder why it is that once a woman gives her heart into another’s keeping—­(Bell.) Ah, the bell.  It must be he at last.  He is late this evening.

Enter Miss Andrews as maid, with card on tray.

Miss Andrews.  Lady Amaranth, me luddy.

Yardsley.  Lydy, Miss Andrews, lydy—­not luddy.

Miss Andrews.  Lydy Amaranth, me lady.

Yardsley.  And please be consistent with your dialect.  If it’s Lydy
Amaranth, it’s Lydy Ellen.

Miss Andrews.  Lydy Amaranth, me lydy.

Mrs. Perkins.  What?  Lydy Amaranth?  She?

Yardsley.  Oh dear!  Excuse me, Mrs. Perkins, but you are not the maid, and cockney isn’t required of you.  You must not say lydy.  Lady is—­

Mrs. Perkins (resignedly).  What?  Lady Amaranth?  She?  What can she want?  Show her up. [Exit Miss Andrews.

Perkins.  That’s a first-class expression for an adventuress. Show her up!  Gad!  She ought to be shown up.

Mrs. Perkins.  What can she want?

Enter Mrs. Bradley.

Mrs. Bradley.  Ah, my dear Lady Ellen!  What delight to find you at home! (Aside.) He is not here, and yet I could have sworn—­