dley (poking his head in at the door). What's the matter in here?
Emma's been waiting for her cue like a hundred-yards runner before
the pistol.

Perkins. Oh, it's the usual trouble with Yardsley. He wants me to
chaperon the universe.

Yardsley. It's the usual row with you. You never want to do
anything straight. You seem to think that curtain's an elevator, and
you're the boy--yanking it up and down at your pleasure, and--

Mrs. Perkins. Oh, please don't quarrel! Can't you see, Ted, it's
growing late? We'll never have the play rehearsed, and it's barely
three hours now before the audience will arrive.

Perkins. Very well--I'll give in--only I think you ought to have
different bells--

Yardsley. I'll have a trolley-car gong for you, if it'll only make
you do the work properly. Have you got a bicycle bell?

Mrs. Perkins. Yes; that will do nicely for the curtain, and the desk
push-button bell will do for the front-door bell. Have you got that
in your mind, Teddy dear?

Perkins. I feel as if I had the whole bicycle in my mind. I can
feel the wheels. Bike for curtain, push for front door. That's all
right. I wouldn't mind pushing for the front door myself. All
ready? All right. In the absence of the bicycle bell, I'll be its
under-study for once. B-r-r-r-r-r-r-r! [Raises curtain.

Yardsley. Now, Mrs. Perkins, begin with "I wonder why--"

Mrs. Perkins (rehearsing). I wonder why it is that once a woman
gives her heart into another's keeping--(Bell.) Ah, the bell. It
must be he at last. He is late this evening.

Enter Miss Andrews as maid, with card on tray.

Miss Andrews. Lady Amaranth, me luddy.

Yardsley. Lydy, Miss Andrews, lydy--not luddy.

Miss Andrews. Lydy Amaranth, me lady.

Yardsley. And please be consistent with your dialect. If it's Lydy
Amaranth, it's Lydy Ellen.

Miss Andrews. Lydy Amaranth, me lydy.

Mrs. Perkins. What? Lydy Amaranth? She?

Yardsley. Oh dear! Excuse me, Mrs. Perkins, but you are not the
maid, and cockney isn't required of you. You must not say lydy.
Lady is--

Mrs. Perkins (resignedly). What? Lady Amaranth? She? What can she
want? Show her up. [Exit Miss Andrews.

Perkins. That's a first-class expression for an adventuress. _Show
her up_! Gad! She ought to be shown up.

Mrs. Perkins. What can she want?

Enter Mrs. Bradley.

Mrs. Bradley. Ah, my dear Lady Ellen! What delight to find you at
home! (Aside.) He is n