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 wond