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.