Yardsley. Bad thing to lift a piano in. Better be without any coat. But I say we begin—eh? If you don’t mind, Mrs. Perkins. We’ve got a great deal to do, and unfortunately hours are limited in length as well as in number. Ah! that fireplace must be covered up. Wouldn’t do to have a fireplace in a conservatory. Wilt all the flowers in ten minutes.
Mrs. Perkins (meekly). You needn’t have the fire lit, need you?
Barlow. No—but—a fireplace without fire in it seems sort of—of bald, don’t you think?
Yardsley. Bald? Splendid word applied to a fireplace. So few fireplaces have hair.
Mrs. Bradley. Oh, it could be covered up without any trouble, Bessie. Can’t we have those dining-room portières to hang in front of it?
Yardsley. Just the thing. Dining-room portières always look well, whether they’re in a conservatory or a street scene. (Enter Perkins.) Hello, Thaddeus! How d’ y’? Got your overalls on?
Perkins (trying to appear serene). Yes. I’m ready for anything. Anything I can do?
Bradley. Yes—look pleasant. You look as if you were going to have your picture taken, or a tooth pulled. Haven’t you a smile you don’t need that you can give us? This isn’t a funeral.
Perkins (assuming a grin). How’ll that do?
Barlow. First-rate. We’ll have to make you act next. That’s the most villanous grin I ever saw.