LAURA. That fool! Then she made her own too, I suppose?
MARTHA. Yes. That went the day before, so you got it in time.
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.