Mrs. Perkins. Why, we’re most happy to have you, I’m sure.
Perkins. So ’m I. (Aside.) Heaven forgive me that!
Yardsley. By-the-way, Thad, there’s one thing I meant to have spoken about as soon as I got here. Er—is this your house, or do you rent it?
Perkins. I rent it. What has that to do with it?
Bradley. A great deal. You don’t think we’d treat your house as we would a common landlord’s, do you? You wouldn’t yourself.
Yardsley. That’s the point. If you own the house we want to be careful and consider your feelings. If you don’t, we don’t care what happens.
Perkins. I don’t own the house. (Aside.) And under the circumstances I’m rather glad I don’t.
Yardsley. Well, I’m glad you don’t. My weak point is my conscience, and when it comes to destroying a friend’s property, I don’t exactly like to do it. But if this house belongs to a sordid person, who built it just to put money in his own pocket, I don’t care. Barlow, you can nail those portières up. It won’t be necessary to build a frame for them. Bradley, carry the chairs and cabinets out.
[Bradley, assisted by Perkins, removes the remaining furniture, placing the bric-à-brac on the floor.
Barlow. All right. Where’s that stepladder? Thaddeus, got any nails?