LAURA. I thought it didn't look up to much. (_She is now contemplating
Emily's second effort with a critical eye_.) Now a little maiden-hair
fern would have made a world of difference.

MARTHA. I don't hold with flowers myself. I think 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_)