Barlow.  Get some water—­quick!

[Yardsley runs for water.

Mrs. Perkins.  Air!  Give me air!

Perkins (grabbing pump from Barlow’s hand).  Don’t stand there like an idiot!  Act!  She wants air!

[Places pump on floor and begins to pump air at her.

Barlow.  Who’s the idiot now?  Wheel her over to the window.  She’s not a bicycle.

They do so.  Mrs. Perkins revives.

Perkins.  What is the matter?

Mrs. Perkins.  Mrs. Willoughby Hawkins—­arrested—­Forty-second Street—­no lamp—­bailed out.  Oh, dear me, dear me!  It’ll all be in the papers!

Perkins.  What’s that got to do with us?  Who’s Mrs. Willoughby
Hawkins?

Mrs. Perkins.  Emma!  Assumed name.

Barlow.  Good Lord!  Mrs. Bradley in jail?

Perkins.  This is a nice piece of—­ow—­my ankle, my ankle!

[Enter Bradley and Yardsley at same time, Bradley with bottle of Pond’s Extract, Yardsley with glass of water.

Bradley.  Where the deuce did you fellows go to?  I’ve been wandering all over the square looking for you.

Perkins.  Your wife—­

Bradley (dropping bottle).  What?  What about her—­hurt?

Mrs. Perkins.  Worse! [Sobs.

Bradley.  Killed?

Mrs. Perkins.  Worse—­l-lol-locked up—­in jail—­no bail—­wants to be lamped out.

Bradley.  Great heavens!  Where?—­when?  What next?  Where’s my hat?—­ what’ll the baby say?  I must go to her at once.

Yardsley.  Hold on, old man.  Let me go up.  You’re too excited.  I know the police captain.  You stay here, and I’ll run up and fix it with him.  If you go, he’ll find out who Mrs. Hawkins is; you’ll get mad, and things will be worse than ever.

Bradley.  But—­

Barlow.  No buts, my dear boy.  You just stay where you are.  Yardsley’s right.  It would be an awful grind on you if this ever became known.  Bob can fix it up in two minutes with the captain, and Mrs. Bradley can come right back with him.  Besides, he can get there in five minutes on his wheel.  It will take you twenty on the cars.

Yardsley.  Precisely.  Meanwhile, Brad, you’d better learn to ride the wheel, so that Mrs. B. won’t have to ride alone.  This ought to be a lesson to you.

Perkins.  Bully idea (rubbing his ankle).  You can use my wheel to-night—­I—­I think I’ve had enough for the present. (Aside.) The pavements aren’t soft enough for me; and, O Lord! what a stony curb that was!

Bradley.  I never thought I’d get so low.

Yardsley.  Well, it seems to me that a man with a wife in jail needn’t be too stuck up to ride a bicycle.  But—­by-by—­I’m off. [Exit.

Mrs. Perkins.  Poor Emma—­out for freedom, and lands in jail.  What horrid things policemen are, to arrest a woman!

Bradley (indignantly).  Served her right!  If women won’t obey the law they ought to be arrested, the same as men.  If she wasn’t my wife, I’d like to see her sent up for ten years or even twenty years.  Women have got no business—­