Yardsley.  Simple beauty.  Is she pumped up?

Perkins.  Beg your pardon?

Yardsley.  Pumped up, tires full and tight—­ready for action—­support an elephant?

Perkins.  Guess so—­my—­I mean, the agent said it was perfect.

Yardsley.  Extra nuts?

Perkins.  What?

Yardsley.  Extra nuts—­nuts extra.  Suppose you lose a nut, and your pedal comes off; what you going to do—­get a tow?

Barlow.  Guess Perkins thinks this is like going to sleep.

Perkins.  I don’t know anything about it.  What I’m after is information; only, I give you warning, I will not ride so as to get round shoulders.

Yardsley.  Then where’s your wrench?  Screw up your bar, hoist your handles, elevate your saddle, and you’re O.K.  What saddle have you?

Perkins (tapping it).  This.

Barlow.  Humph!  Not very good—­but we’ll try it.  Come on.  It’s getting late.

[They go out.  Perkins reluctantly.  In a moment he returns alone, and, rushing to Mrs. Perkins, kisses her affectionately.

Perkins.  Good-bye, dearest.

Mrs. Perkins.  Good-bye.  Don’t hurt yourself, Thaddeus. [Exit
Perkins.

Mrs. Perkins (leaving window and looking at clock on mantel).  Ten minutes past nine and Emma not here yet.  It does seem too bad that she should worry Ed so much just for independence’ sake.  I am quite sure I should never want to ride a wheel anyhow, and even if I did—­

Enter Yardsley hurriedly, with a piece of flannel in his hand.

Yardsley.  I beg pardon, Mrs. Perkins, but have you a shawl-strap in the house?

Mrs. Perkins (tragically).  What is that you have in your hand, Mr.
Yardsley?

Yardsley (with a glance at the piece of flannel).  That?  Oh—­ha-ha—­ that—­that’s a—­ah—­a piece of flannel.

Mrs. Perkins (snatching the flannel from Yardsley’s hand).  But
Teddy—­isn’t that a piece of Teddy’s—­Teddy’s shirt?

Yardsley.  More than that, Mrs. Perkins.  It’s the greater part of Teddy’s shirt.  That’s why we want the shawl-strap.  When we started him off, you know, he took his coat off.  Jack held on to the wheel, and I took Teddy in the fulness of his shirt.  One—­two—­three!  Teddy put on steam—­Barlow let go—­Teddy went off—­I held on—­this is what remained.  It ruined the shirt, but Teddy is safe. (Aside.) Barring about sixty or seventy bruises.

Mrs. Perkins (with a faint smile).  And the shawl-strap?

Yardsley.  I want to fasten it around Teddy’s waist, grab hold of the handle, and so hold him up.  He’s all right, so don’t you worry.  (Exit Mrs. Perkins in search of shawl-strap.) Guess I’d better not say anything about the Pond’s Extract he told me to bring—­doesn’t need it, anyhow.  Man’s got to get used to leaving pieces of his ankle-bone on the curb-stone if he wants to learn to ride a wheel.  Only worry her if I asked her for it—­won’t hurt him to suffer a week.