The Bicyclers and Three Other Farces | Page 3

man to have the world see how
much smarter his wife is than he is.
Perkins (turning to his wheel). Bradley's a little worried about the
non-arrival of Mrs. Bradley. She was coming here on her wheel, and
started about the same time he did.
Barlow. Oh, that's all right, Ned. She knows her wheel as well as you
know your business. Can't come down quite as fast as the "L,"
particularly these nights just before election. She may have fallen in
with some political parade, and is waiting to get across the street.
Bradley (aside). Well, I like that!
Mrs. Perkins (aside). Why--it's awful!
Yardsley. Or she may possibly have punctured her tire--that would

delay her fifteen or twenty minutes. Don't worry, my dear boy. I
showed her how to fix a punctured tire all right. It's simple
enough--you take the rubber thing they give you and fasten it in that
metal thingumbob, glue it up, poke it in, pull it out, pump her up, and
there you are.
Bradley (scornfully). You told her that, did you?
Yardsley. I did.
Bradley (with a mock sigh of relief). You don't know what a load
you've taken off my mind.
Barlow (looking at his watch). H'm! Thaddeus, it's nine o'clock. I move
we go out and have the lesson. Eh? The moon is just right.
Yardsley. Yes--we can't begin too soon. Wheel all right?
Perkins. Guess so--I'm ready.
Bradley. I'll go out to the corner and see if there's any sign of Mrs.
Bradley. [Exit.
Mrs. Perkins (who has been gazing out of window for some moments).
I do wish Emma would come. I can't understand how women can do
these things. Riding down here all alone at night! It is perfectly
ridiculous!
Yardsley (rolling Perkins's wheel into middle of room). Czar wheel,
eh?
Perkins (meekly). Yes--best going--they tell me.
Barlow. Can't compare with the Alberta. Has a way of going to pieces
like the "one-hoss shay"--eh, Bob?
Yardsley. Exactly--when you least expect it, too--though the Alberta
isn't much better. You get coasting on either of 'em, and half-way down,
bang! the front wheel collapses, hind wheel flies up and hits you in the

neck, handle-bar turns just in time to stab you in the chest; and there
you are, miles from home, a physical, moral, bicycle wreck. But the
Arena wheel is different. In fact, I may say that the only safe wheel is
the Arena. That's the one I ride. However, at fifty dollars this one isn't
extravagant.
Perkins. I paid a hundred.
Yardsley. A wha--a--at?
Perkins. Hundred.
Barlow. Well you are a--a--good fellow. It's a pretty wheel, anyhow. Eh,
Bob?
Yardsley. Simple beauty. Is she pumped up?
Perkins. Beg your pardon?
Yardsley. Pumped up, tires full and tight--ready for action--support an
elephant?
Perkins. Guess so--my--I mean, the agent said it was perfect.
Yardsley. Extra nuts?
Perkins. What?
Yardsley. Extra nuts--nuts extra. Suppose you lose a nut, and your
pedal comes off; what you going to do--get a tow?
Barlow. Guess Perkins thinks this is like going to sleep.
Perkins. I don't know anything about it. What I'm after is information;
only, I give you warning, I will not ride so as to get round shoulders.
Yardsley. Then where's your wrench? Screw up your bar, hoist your
handles, elevate your saddle, and you're O.K. What saddle have you?

Perkins (tapping it). This.
Barlow. Humph! Not very good--but we'll try it. Come on. It's getting
late.
[They go out. Perkins reluctantly. In a moment he returns alone, and,
rushing to Mrs. Perkins, kisses her affectionately.
Perkins. Good-bye, dearest.
Mrs. Perkins. Good-bye. Don't hurt yourself, Thaddeus. [Exit Perkins.
Mrs. Perkins (leaving window and looking at clock on mantel). Ten
minutes past nine and Emma not here yet. It does seem too bad that she
should worry Ed so much just for independence' sake. I am quite sure I
should never want to ride a wheel anyhow, and even if I did--
Enter Yardsley hurriedly, with a piece of flannel in his hand.
Yardsley. I beg pardon, Mrs. Perkins, but have you a shawl-strap in the
house?
Mrs. Perkins (tragically). What is that you have in your hand, Mr.
Yardsley?
Yardsley (with a glance at the piece of flannel). That? Oh--ha-ha--
that--that's a--ah--a piece of flannel.
Mrs. Perkins (snatching the flannel from Yardsley's hand). But
Teddy--isn't that a piece of Teddy's--Teddy's shirt?
Yardsley. More than that, Mrs. Perkins. It's the greater part of Teddy's
shirt. That's why we want the shawl-strap. When we started him off,
you know, he took his coat off. Jack held on to the wheel, and I took
Teddy in the fulness of his shirt. One--two--three! Teddy put on
steam--Barlow let go--Teddy went off--I held on--this is what remained.
It ruined the shirt, but Teddy is safe. (Aside.) Barring about sixty