er what it was
that rattled around inside of it.

Bradley. It wasn't for me to suggest taking the drawer out.
Thaddeus ought to have thought of that.

Perkins (angrily). Well, of all--

Mrs. Perkins. Never mind. It's here, and it's all right.

Yardsley. That's so. We musn't quarrel. If we get started, we'll
never stop. Now, Perkins, roll up that rug, and we'll get things
placed, and then we'll be through.

Barlow. Come on; I'll help. Bradley, get those pictures off the
rug. Don't be so careless of Mrs. Perkins's property.

Bradley. Careless? See here now, Barlow--

Mrs. Bradley. Now, Edward--no temper. Take the pictures out.

Bradley. And where shall I take the pictures out to?

Yardsley. Put 'em on the dining-room table.

Perkins (aside). Throw 'em out the window, for all I care.

Bradley. Eh?

Perkins. Nothing. I--er--I only said to put 'em--er--to put 'em
wherever you pleased.

Bradley. But _I_ can't say where they're to go, Thaddeus. This
isn't my house.

Perkins (aside). No--worse luck--it's mine.

Mrs. Perkins. Oh--put them in the dining-room; they'll be safe
there.

Bradley. I will.

[He begins carrying the pictures out. Perkins, Barlow, and Yardsley
roll up the rug.

Yardsley. There! You fellows might as well carry that out too; and
then we'll be ready for the scene.

Barlow. Come along, Thaddeus. You're earning your pay to-night.

Perkins (desperately). May I take my coat off? I'm boiling.

Mrs. Bradley. Certainly. I wonder you didn't think of it before.

Perkins. Think? I never think.

Yardsley. Well, go ahead in your thoughtless way and get the rug
out. You are delaying us.

Perkins. All right. Come on. Barlow, are you ready?

Barlow. I am. [They drag the rug out.

Yardsley. At last. (Replaces the tub.) There's the fountain. Now
where shall we put the cook's delight?

Mrs. Perkins. Over here, I should say.

Mrs. Bradley. I think it would be better here.

Bradley (who has returned). Put it half-way between 'em, Yardsley.
I say give in always to the ladies; and when they don't agree,
compromise. It's a mighty poor woman that isn't half right
occasionally.

Mrs. Bradley. Edward!

Yardsley (adopting the suggestion). There! How's that?

Perkins (returning). Perfect. I never saw such an original
conservatory in my life.

Mrs. Perkins. I suppose it's all right. What do you think, Emma?

Mrs. Bradley. Why, it's