laura. How did you get mine here?
julia. You brought them. At least, they came, a little before you did. Then I knew you were on your way.
laura (impressed). Lor'! So that's how things happen?
(She goes and begins to take a look round, and Julia takes up her crochet again. As she does so her eye is arrested by a little old-fashioned hour-glass standing upon the table from which the tea-tray 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.