Perkins. Lets us all out, seems to me.
Yardsley. But—I wrote Henderson, not Fenderson. That jackass of a telegraph operator is responsible for it all. “Will you take Henderson’s part?” is what I wrote, and he’s gone and got it Fenderson. Confound his—
Mrs. Perkins. But what are we going to do? It’s quarter-past six now, and the curtain is to rise at 8.30.
Perkins. I’ll give ’em my unequalled imitation of Sandow lifting the curtain with one hand. Thus. [Raises curtain wish right hand.
Yardsley. For goodness’ sake, man, be serious. There are seventy-five people coming here to see this performance, and they’ve paid for their tickets.
Mrs. Perkins. It’s perfectly awful. We can’t do it at all unless Mr. Bradley will go right up stairs now and learn—
Mrs. Bradley. Oh, that’s impossible. He’s learned nearly three hundred lines to-day already. Mr. Barlow might—
Barlow. I couldn’t think of it, Mrs. Bradley. I’ve got as much as I can do remembering what lines I have learned.
Perkins. It would take you a week to forget your old part completely enough to do the other well. You’d be playing both parts, the way Irving does when he’s irritated, before you knew it.
Yardsley. I’m sure I don’t know what to do.