ink it's wasteful. But, of
course, one has to do it.

LAURA (_with pained regret_). I'm sorry, Martha; I return it--with
many thanks.

MARTHA. What's the good of that? I can't give it back to Emily, now!

LAURA (_with quiet grief_). I don't wish to be a cause of waste.

MARTHA. Well, take it to pieces, then; and put them in water--or wear it
round your head!

LAURA. Ten beautiful wreaths my friends sent me. They are all lying on my
grave now! A pity that love is so wasteful! Well, I suppose I must go now
and change into my cap. (_Goes to the door, where she encounters
Julia_.) Why, Julia, you nearly knocked me down!

JULIA (_ironically)._ I beg your pardon, Laura; it comes of using the
same door. Hannah has lighted a fire in your room.

LAURA. That's sensible at any rate.

(EXIT _Mrs. James_)

JULIA. Well? And how do you find Laura?

MARTHA. Julia, I don't know whether I can stand her.

JULIA. She hasn't got quite--used to herself yet.

MARTHA (_explosively)._ Put that away somewhere! (_She gives an
angry shove to the wreath_)

JULIA. Put it away! Why?

MARTHA (_furiously)._ Emily made it: and it didn't cost anything; and
it hasn't got any maiden-hair fern in it; and it's too big to wear with
her cap. So it's good for nothing! Put it on the fire! She doesn't want to
see it again.

JULIA (_comprehending the situation, restores the wreath to its
box_). Why did you bring it here, Martha?

MARTHA (_miserably)._ I don't know. I just clung on to it. I suppose
it was on my mind to look after it, and see it wasn't damaged. So I found
I'd brought it with me.... I believe, now I think of it, I've brought some
sandwiches, too. (_She routs in a small hand-bag.)_ Yes, I have.
Well, I can have them for supper.... Emily made those too.

JULIA. Then I think you'd better let Hannah have them--for the sake of
peace.

MARTHA (_woefully)._ I thought I _was_ going to have peace here.

JULIA. It will be all right, Martha--presently.

MARTHA. Well, I don't want to be uncharitable; but I do wish--I must say
it--I do wish Laura had been cremated.

(_This is the nearest she can do for wishing her sister in the place to
which she thinks she belongs. But the uncremated Mrs. James now re-enters
in widow's cap_.)

LAURA. Julia, have you ever seen Papa, since you came here?

JULIA (_frigidly)._ No, I have not.

LAURA. Has our Mother seen him?

JULIA. I haven't--(_About to say the forbidden thing, she checks
herself_.