julia. How the days are drawing out, Hannah.
hannah. Yes, Ma'am; nicely, aren't they?
(For Hannah, being old-established, may say a thing or two not in the strict order. In fact, it may be said that, up to a well-understood point, character is encouraged in her, and is allowed to peep through in her remarks.)
julia. What time is it?
hannah (looking with better eyes than her mistress at the large ormolu clock which records eternally the time of the great Exhibition). Almost a quarter to six, Ma'am.
julia. So late? She ought to have been here long ago.
hannah. Who, Ma'am, did you say, Ma'am?
julia. My sister, Mrs. James. You remember?
hannah. What, Miss Martha, Ma'am? Well!
julia. No, it's Miss Laura this time: you didn't know she had married, I suppose?