The Bicyclers and Three Other Farces

by John Kendrick Bangs

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.