has been taken, the sands of which are still running_.)

JULIA (_softly, almost to herself_). Oh, but how strange! That was
Martha's. Is Martha coming too? (_She picks up the glass, looks at it,
and sets it down again_)

LAURA (_who is examining the china on a side-table)._ Why, I declare,
Julia! Here is your Dresden that was broken--without a crack in it!

JULIA. No, Laura, it was yours that was broken.

LAURA. It was _not_ mine; it was yours...Don't you remember _I_
broke it?

JULIA. When you broke it you said it was mine. Until you broke it, you
said it was yours.

LAURA. Very well, then: as you wish. It isn't broken now, and it's mine.

JULIA. That's satisfactory. I get my own back again. It's the better one.

(ENTER _Hannah with a telegram on a salver._)

HANNAH (_in a low voice of mystery_). A telegram, Ma'am.

(_Julia opens it. The contents evidently startle her, but she retains
her presence of mind_)

JULIA. No answer.

(EXIT _Hannah_)

JULIA. Laura, Martha is coming!

LAURA. Here? Well, I wonder how she has managed that!

(_Her sister hands her the telegram, which she reads.)_

'Accident. Quite safe. Arriving by the 6.30.' Why, it's after that now!

JULIA (_sentimentally)._ Oh, Laura, only think! So now we shall be
all together again.

LAURA. Yes, I suppose we shall.

JULIA. It will be quite like old days.

LAURA (_warningly, as she sits down again and prepares for
narrative_). Not _quite_, Julia. (_She leans forward, and speaks
with measured emphasis_) Martha's temper has got very queer! She never
had a very good temper, as you know: and it's grown on her.

(_A pause. Julia remains silent_)

I could tell you some things; but--(_Seeing herself unencouraged)_
oh, you'll find out soon enough! (_Then, to stand right with
herself_) Julia, _am_ I difficult to get on with?

JULIA. Oh well, we all have our little ways, Laura.

LAURA. But Martha: she's so rude! I can't introduce her to people! If
anyone comes, she just runs away.

JULIA (_changing the subject_). D'you remember, Laura, that charming
young girl we met at Mrs. Somervale's, the summer Uncle Fletcher stayed
with us?

LAURA (_snubbingly_). I can't say I do.

JULIA. I met her the other day: married, and with three children--and just
as pretty and young-looking as ever.

(_All this is said with the most ravishing air, but Laura is not to be
diverted_.)

LAURA. Ah! I daresay. When Martha behaves like that, I hold my tongu