The Bicyclers and Three Other Farces. Bangs John Kendrick

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      Bradley.  Killed?

      Mrs. Perkins.  Worse—l-lol-locked up—in jail—no bail—wants to be lamped out.

      Bradley.  Great heavens!  Where?—when?  What next?  Where’s my hat?—what’ll the baby say?  I must go to her at once.

      Yardsley.  Hold on, old man.  Let me go up.  You’re too excited.  I know the police captain.  You stay here, and I’ll run up and fix it with him.  If you go, he’ll find out who Mrs. Hawkins is; you’ll get mad, and things will be worse than ever.

      Bradley.  But—

      Barlow.  No buts, my dear boy.  You just stay where you are.  Yardsley’s right.  It would be an awful grind on you if this ever became known.  Bob can fix it up in two minutes with the captain, and Mrs. Bradley can come right back with him.  Besides, he can get there in five minutes on his wheel.  It will take you twenty on the cars.

      Yardsley.  Precisely.  Meanwhile, Brad, you’d better learn to ride the wheel, so that Mrs. B. won’t have to ride alone.  This ought to be a lesson to you.

      Perkins.  Bully idea (rubbing his ankle).  You can use my wheel to-night—I—I think I’ve had enough for the present.  (Aside.)  The pavements aren’t soft enough for me; and, O Lord! what a stony curb that was!

      Bradley.  I never thought I’d get so low.

      Yardsley.  Well, it seems to me that a man with a wife in jail needn’t be too stuck up to ride a bicycle.  But—by-by—I’m off.  [Exit.

      Mrs. Perkins.  Poor Emma—out for freedom, and lands in jail.  What horrid things policemen are, to arrest a woman!

      Bradley (indignantly).  Served her right!  If women won’t obey the law they ought to be arrested, the same as men.  If she wasn’t my wife, I’d like to see her sent up for ten years or even twenty years.  Women have got no business—

      Barlow.  Don’t get mad, Brad.  If you knew the fascination of the wheel you wouldn’t blame her a bit.

      Bradley (calming down).  Well—I suppose it has some fascination.

      Perkins (anxious to escape further lessons).  Oh, indeed, it’s a most exhilarating sensation: you seem to be flying like a bird over the high-ways.  Try it, Ned.  Go on, right away.  You don’t know how that little ride I had braced me up.

      Barlow (wish a laugh).  There!  Hear that!  There’s a man who’s ridden only eight inches in all his life—and he says he felt like a bird!

      Perkins (aside).  Yes—like a spring chicken split open for broiling.  Next time I ride a wheel it’ll be four wheels, with a horse fastened in front.  Oh my! oh my!  I believe I’ve broken my back too.  [Lies down.

      Bradley.  You seem to be exhilarated, Thaddeus.

      Perkins (bracing up).  Oh, I am, I am.  Never felt worse—that is, better.

      Barlow.  Come on, Brad.  I’ll show you the trick in two jiffies—it’ll relieve your worry about madam, too.

      Bradley.  Very well—I suppose there’s no way out of it.  Only let me know as soon as Emma arrives, will you?

      Mrs. Perkins.  Yes—we will.

      [They go out.  As they disappear through the door Thaddeus groans aloud.

      Mrs. Perkins.  Why—what is the matter, dear?  Are you hurt?

      Perkins.  Oh no—not at all, my love.  I was only thinking of Mr. Jarley’s indignation to-morrow when he sees the hole I made in his curb-stone with my ankle—oh!—ow!—and as for my back, while I don’t think the whole spine is gone, I shouldn’t be surprised if it had come through in sections.

      Mrs. Perkins.  Why, you poor thing—why didn’t you say—

      Perkins (savagely).  Why didn’t I say?  My heavens, Bess, what did you think I wanted the Pond’s Extract for—to drink, or to water the street with?  O Lord! (holding up his arm).  There aren’t any ribs sticking out, are there?

      Barlow (outside).  The other way—there—that’s it—you’ve got it.

      Bradley (outside).  Why, it is easy, isn’t it?

      Perkins (scornfully).  Easy!  That fellow’d find comfort in—

      Barlow (outside).  Now you’re off—not too fast.

      Mrs. Perkins (walking to window).  Why, Thaddeus, he’s going like the wind down the street!

      Perkins.  Heaven help him when he comes to the river!

      Barlow (rushing in).  Here we are in trouble again.  Brad’s gone off on my wheel.  Bob’s taken his, and your tire’s punctured.  He doesn’t know the first thing about turning or stopping, and I can’t run fast enough to catch him.  One member of the family is in jail—the other on a runaway wheel!

      [Yardsley appears at door.  Assumes attitude of butler announcing guest.

      Yardsley.  Missus Willerby ’Awkins!

      Enter Mrs. Bradley, hysterical.

      Mrs. Bradley.  Oh, Edward!

      [Throws herself into Barlow’s arms.

      Barlow (quietly).  Excuse me—ah—Mrs. Hawkins—ah—Bradley—but I’m not—I’m not your husband.

      Mrs. Bradley (looking up, tragically).  Where’s Edward?

      Mrs. Perkins.  Sit down, dear—you must be completely worn out.

      Mrs. Bradley (in alarm).  Where is he?

      Perkins (rising and standing on one leg).  Fact is, Mrs. Bradley—we don’t know.  He disappeared ten minutes ago.

      Yardsley.  What do you mean?

      Mrs. Bradley.  Disappeared?

      Barlow.  Yes.  He went east—at the rate of about a mile a minute.

      Mrs. Bradley.  My husband—went east?  Mile a minute?

      Perkins.  Yes, on a bike.  Yardsley, take me by the shawl-strap, will you, and help me over to that chair; my back hurts so I can’t lie down.

      Mrs. Bradley.  Ned—on a wheel?  Why, he can’t ride!

      Barlow.  Oh yes, he can.  What I’m afraid of is that he can’t stop riding.

      Bradley (outside).  Hi—Barlow—help!

      Mrs. СКАЧАТЬ