imney, if that's what you mean.

(_She continues gracefully to do her crochet._)

LAURA. Now, Martha, if you please.

MARTHA (_goaded into victory_). I'm sorry, Julia. You'd better
explain. I'm going downstairs.

(_Suiting the action to the word, she commits herself doggedly to the
experiment, descending bluntly and without grace through the carpet into
the room below. Mrs. James stands stupent._)

LAURA. Martha!... Am I to be defied in this way?

JULIA. You brought it on yourself, Laura.

LAURA. You told her to do it!

JULIA. She would have soon found out for herself.
(_Collectedly, she folds up her work and rises_.) And now,
I think, I will go to my room and wash my hands for supper.

(_As she makes her stately move, her ear is attracted by a curious
metallic sound repeated at intervals. Turning about, she perceives, indeed
they both perceive, in the centre of the small table, a handsome silver
tea-pot which opens and shuts its lid at them, as if trying to speak_.)

JULIA. Oh, look, Laura! Martha's tea-pot has arrived.

LAURA. She told a lie, then.

JULIA. No, it was the truth. She wished for it. The sea has given up its
dead.

LAURA. Then now I _have_ got it at last!

(_But, as she goes to seize the disputed possession, Martha rises
through the floor, grabs the tea-pot, and descends to the nether regions
once more_.)

LAURA (_glaring at her sister with haggard eye_). Julia, where
_are_ we?

JULIA. I don't know what you mean, Laura. (_She reaches out a polite
hand_) The key?

(_Mrs. James delivers up the key as one glad to be rid of it_.)

LAURA. What is this place we've come to?

JULIA (_persuasively)._ Our home.

LAURA. I think we are in Hell!

JULIA (_going to the door, which she unlocks with soft triumph)._ We
are all where we wish to be, Laura. (_A gong sounds_.) That's supper.
(_The gong continues its metallic bumbling_)

(_Julia departs, leaving Mrs. James in undisputed possession of the
situation she has made for herself_.)

CURTAIN

Part Three

Dethronements

IMAGINARY PORTRAITS OF POLITICAL CHARACTERS,
DONE IN DIALOGUE

Preface

The written dialogue, as interpretative of character, is but a form of
portraiture, no more personally identified with its subject than drawing
or painting; nor can it claim to have more verisimilitude until it finds
embodiment on the stage. Why then, in this country at any rate, is its
application to living persons only considered