MARTHA. You didn't tell me you were dying.

LAURA. Do people tell each other when they are dying? They don't
_know_. I told you I wasn't well.

MARTHA. You always told me that, just when I'd settled down somewhere
else.... Of course I'd have come if I'd known! (_testily)._

JULIA. Oh, surely we needn't go into these matters now! Isn't it better to
accept things?

LAURA. I like to have my wishes attended to. What was going to be done
about the furniture? (_This to Martha_.) You know, I suppose, that I
left it to the two of you--you and Edwin?

MARTHA. We were going to give it to Bella, to set up house with.

LAURA. _That's_ not what I intended. I meant you to keep on the house
and live there. Why couldn't you?

MARTHA (_with growing annoyance_). Well, _that's_ settled now!

LAURA. It wasn't for Arabella. Arabella was never a favourite of mine. Why
should Arabella have my furniture?

MARTHA. Well, you'd better send word, and have it stored up for you till
doomsday! Edwin doesn't want it; he's got enough of his own.

LAURA (_in a sleek, injured voice_). Julia, I'm going upstairs to
take my things off.