Perkins. Simple enough? Well, I like that. How am I to tell one
bell from another if--
Yardsley (dryly). I suppose if the clock strikes ten you'll seesaw
the curtain up and down ten times, once for each stroke--eh?
Bradley (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.