The Bicyclers and Three Other Farces Part 25

Yardsley (looks up gratefully. Suddenly his face brightens. Aside).

Gad! The very thing! I'll tell the exact truth, and if Dorothy has half the sense I think she has, I'll get in my proposal right under Barlow's very nose. (Aloud.) My--my explanation, Miss Andrews, is very simple. I--ah--I cannot deny having spoken every word that Jennie has charged to my account. I did get down on my knees on the rug. I did say "divine creature." I did not put it strong enough.

I should have said "divinest of _all_ creatures."

Dorothy (in remonstrance). Mr. Yardsley!

Barlow (aside). Magnificent bluff! But why? (Rubs his forehead in a puzzled way.) What the deuce is he driving at?

Yardsley. Kindly let me finish. I did say "I love you." I should have said "I adore you; I wors.h.i.+p you." I did say "Will you be my wife?" and I was going to add, "for if you will not, then is light turned into darkness for me, and life, which your 'yes' will render radiantly beautiful, will become dull, colorless, and not worth the living." That is what I was going to say, Miss Andrews--Miss Dorothy--when--when Jennie interrupted me and spoke the word I most wish to hear--spoke the word "yes"; but it was not her yes that I wished. My words of love were not for her.

Barlow (perceiving his drift). Ho! Absurd! Nonsense! Most unreasonable! You were calling the sofa the divinest of all creatures, I suppose, or perhaps asking the--the piano to put on its shoes and--elope with you. Preposterous!

Dorothy (softly). Go on, Mr. Yardsley.

Yardsley. I--I spoke a little while ago about sand--courage--when it comes to one's asking the woman he loves the greatest of all questions. I was boastful. I pretended that I had that courage; but--well, I am not as brave as I seem. I had come, Miss Dorothy, to say to you the words that fell on Jennie's ears, and--and I began to get nervous--stage-fright, I suppose it was--and I was foolish enough to rehea.r.s.e what I had to say--to you, and to you alone.

Barlow. Let me speak, Miss Andrews. I--

Yardsley. You haven't anything to do with the subject in hand, my dear Barlow, not a thing.

Dorothy. Jennie--what--what have you to say?

Jennie. Me? Oh, mum, I hardly knows what to say! This is suddenter than the other; but, Miss Dorothy, I'd believe him, I would, because-- I--I think he's tellin' the truth, after all, for the reason that-- oh dear--for--

Dorothy. Don't be frightened, Jennie. For what reason?

Jennie. Well, mum, for the reason that when I said "yes," mum, he didn't act like all the other gentlemen I've said yes to, and--and k-- kuk--kiss me.

Yardsley. That's it! that's it! Do you suppose that if I'd been after Jennie's yes, and got it, I'd have let a door-bell and a sofa stand between me and--the sealing of the proposal?

Barlow (aside). Oh, what nonsense this all is! I've got to get ahead of this fellow in some way. (Aloud.) Well, where do I come in? I came here, Miss Andrews, to--tell you--

Yardsley (interposing). You come in where you came in before--just a little late--after the proposal, as it were.

Dorothy (her face clearing and wreathing with smiles). What a comedy of errors it has all been! I--I believe you, Mr. Yardsley.

Yardsley. Thank Heaven! And--ah--you aren't going to say anything more, D--Dorothy?

Dorothy. I'm afraid--

Yardsley. Are you going to make me go through that proposal all over again, now that I've got myself into so much trouble saying it the first time--Dorothy?

Dorothy. No, no. You needn't--you needn't speak of it again.

Barlow (aside). Good! That's his conge.

Yardsley. And--then if I--if I needn't say it again? What then?

Can't I have--my answer now? Oh, Miss Andrews--

Dorothy (with downcast eyes, softly). What did Jennie say?

Yardsley (in ecstasy). Do you mean it?

Barlow. I fancy--I fancy I'd better go now, Miss--er--Miss Andrews.

I--I--have an appointment with Mr. Wilkins, and--er--I observe that it is getting rather late.

Yardsley. Don't go yet, Jack. I'm not so anxious to be rid of you now.

Barlow. I must go--really.

Yardsley. But I want you to make me one promise before you go.

Dorothy. He'll make it, I'm sure, if I ask him. Mr. Yardsley and I want you--want you to be our best man.

Yardsley. That's it, precisely. Eh, Jack?

Barlow. Well, yes. I'll be--second-best man, The events of the afternoon have shown my capacity for that.

Yardsley. Ah!

Barlow. And I'll show my sincerity by wearing Bob's hat and coat into the street now and letting the fury of Hicks fall upon me.

Jennie. If you please, Miss Dorothy--I--I think I can attend to Mr.

Hicks.

Dorothy. Very well. I think that would be better. You may go, Jennie.

[Jennie departs.

Barlow. Well, good-day. I--I've had a very pleasant afternoon, Miss--Andrews. Thanks for the--the cambric tea.

Dorothy. Good-bye, and don't forget.

Barlow. I'm afraid--I won't. Good-bye, Bob. I congratulate you from my heart. I was in hopes that I should have the pleasure of having you for a best man at my wedding, but--er--there's many a slip, you know, and I wish you joy.

[Yardsley shakes him by the hand, and Barlow goes out. As he disappears through the portieres Yardsley follows, and, holding the curtain aside, looks after him until the front door is heard closing.

Then he turns about. Dorothy looks demurely around at him, and as he starts to go to her side the curtain falls.