frock-coaty his check trousers, his white spats, and
patent-leather boots ascending into and passing from view. He twiddles his
feet at them and vanishes_.)

JULIA. And now I hope you are satisfied, Laura?

MARTHA. Where's Mamma gone?

JULIA. So you've driven her away, too. Well, that finishes it.

(_Apparently it does. Robbed of her parental prey, Mrs. James reverts to
the next dearest possession she is concerned about_.)

LAURA. Martha, where is the silver tea-pot?

MARTHA. I don't know, Laura.

LAURA. You said Julia had it.

MARTHA. I didn't say anything of the sort! You said--you supposed Julia
had it; and I said--suppose she had! And I left it at that.

LAURA. Julia says she hasn't got it, so you _must_ have it.

MARTHA. I haven't!

LAURA. Then where is it?

MARTHA. I don't know any more than Julia knows.

LAURA. Then one of you is not telling the truth. ... (_Very judicially
she begins to examine the two culprits.)_ Julia, when did you last see
it?

JULIA. On the day, Laura, when we shared things between us. It became
Martha's: and I never saw it again.

LAURA. Martha, when did you last see it?

MARTHA. I have not seen it--for I don't know how long.

LAURA. That is no answer to my question.

MARTHA (_vindictively)._ Well, if you want to know, it's at the
bottom of the sea.

LAURA (_deliberately)._ Don't talk--nonsense.

MARTHA. Unless a shark has eaten it.

LAURA. When I ask a reasonable question, Martha, I expect a reasonable
answer.

MARTHA. I've given you a reasonable answer! And I wish the Judgment Day
would come, and the sea give up its dead, and then--(_At the end of her
resources, the poor lady begins to gather herself up, so as once for all
to have done with it_.) Now, I am going downstairs to talk to Hannah.

LAURA. You will do nothing of the kind, Martha.

MARTHA. I'm not going to be bullied--not by you or anyone.

LAURA. I must request you to wait and hear what I've got to say.

MARTHA. I don't want to hear it.

LAURA. Julia, are we not to discuss this matter, pray?

(_Julia, who has her eye on Martha, and is quite enjoying this tussle of
the two, says nothing_)

MARTHA. You and Julia can discuss it. I am going downstairs.

(_Mrs. James crosses the room, locks the door, and, standing mistress of
all she surveys, inquires with grim humour_.)

LAURA. And where are you going to be, Julia?

JULIA. I am where I am, Laura. I'm not going out of the window, or up the
ch