. _You_
can see at once what a dining-room portiere is good for. If ever I
am cast away on a desert island, with nothing but a dining-room
portiere for solace, I hope you'll be along to take charge of it. In
your hands its possibilities are absolutely unlimited. Get them for
us, old man; and while you are about it, bring a stepladder. (Exit
Perkins, dejectedly.) Now, Barlow, you and Bradley help me with this
piano. Pianos may do well enough in gardens or pirates' caves, but
for conservatories they're not worth a rap.

Mrs. Bradley. Wait a moment. We must take the bric-a-brac from the
top of it before you touch it. If there are two incompatible things
in this world, they are men and bric-a-brac.

Mrs. Perkins. You are _so_ thoughtful, though I am sure that Mr.
Yardsley would not break anything willingly.

Barlow. Nothing but the ten commandments.

Yardsley. They aren't bric-a-brac; and I thank you, Mrs. Perkins,
for your expression of confidence. I wouldn't intentionally go into
the house of another man and toss his Sevres up in the air, or throw
his Royal Worcester down-stairs, except under very great provocation.
(Mrs. Perkins and Mrs. Bradley have by this time removed the bric-a-
brac from the piano--an upright.) Now, boys, are you ready?

Bradley. Where is it to be moved to?

Yardsley. Where would you prefer to have it, Mrs. Perkins?

Mrs. Perkins. Oh, I have no preference in the matter. Put it where
you please.

Yardsley. Suppose you carry it up into the attic, Barlow.

Barlow. Certainly. I'll be glad to if you'll carry the soft pedal.
I'm always afraid when I'm carrying pianos up-stairs of breaking the
soft pedal or dropping a few octaves.

Yardsley. I guess we'd better put it over in this corner, where the
audience won't see it. If you are so careless that you can't move a
piano without losing its tone, we'd better not have it moved too far.
Now, then.

[Barlow, Yardsley, and Bradley endeavor to push the piano over the
floor, but it doesn't move.

Enter Perkins with two portieres wrapped about him, and hugging a
small stepladder in his arms.

Bradley. Hurry up, Perkins. Don't shirk so. Can't you see that
we're trying to get this piano across the floor? Where are you at?

Perkins (meekly). I'm trying to make myself at home. Do you expect
me to hang on to these things and move pianos at the same time?

Barlow. Let him alone, Bradley. He's doing the best he knows. I