julia. I couldn't. One cannot always be sure. (This mysteriously.) But something tells me now that she is to be with us. I have been expecting her over four days.

    hannah (picking her phrases a little, as though on doubtful ground). It must be a long way, Ma'am. Did she make a comfortable start, Ma'am?

    julia. Very quietly, I'm told. No pain.

    hannah. I wonder what she'll be able to eat now, Ma'am. She was always very particular.

    julia. I daresay you will be told soon enough. (Thus in veiled words she conveys that Hannah knows something of Mrs. James's character.)

    hannah (resignedly). Yes, M'm.

    julia. I don't think I'll wait any longer. If you'll bring in tea now. Make enough for two, in case: pour it off into another pot, and have it under the tea-cosy.

    hannah. Yes, Ma'am.

(Left alone, the dear lady enjoys the sense of herself and the small world of her own thoughts in solitude. Then she sighs indulgently.)

    julia. Yes, I suppose I would rather it had been Martha. Poor Laura! (She puts out her hand for her crochet, when it is arrested by the sound of a knock, rather rapacious in character.) Ah, that's Laura all over!

(Seated quite composedly and fondling her well-kept hands, she awaits the moment of arrival. Very soon the door opens, and the over-expected Mrs. James—a luxuriant garden of widow's weeds, enters. She is a lady more strongly and sharply featured than her sister, but there is nothing thin-lipped about her; with resolute eye and mouth a little grim, yet pleased at so finding herself, she steps into this chamber of old memories and cherished possessions, which translation to another and a better world has made hers again. For a moment she sees the desire of her eyes and is satisfied; but for a moment only. The apparition of another already in possession takes her aback.)

    julia (with soft effusiveness). Well, Laura!

    laura (startled). Julia!

    julia. Here you are!

    laura. Whoever thought of finding you?

    julia (sweetly). Didn't you?

(They have managed to embrace: but Laura continues to have her grievance.)

    laura. No! not for a moment. I really think they might have told me. What brought you?

    julia. Our old home, Laura. It was a natural choice, I think: as one was allowed to choose. I suppose you were?

    laura (her character showing). I didn't ask anyone's leave to come.

    julia. And how are you?

    laura. I don't know; I want my tea.

    julia. Hannah is just bringing it.

    laura. Who's Hannah?

    julia. Our Hannah: our old servant. Didn't she open the door to you?

    laura. What? Come back, has she?

    julia. I found her here when I came, seven years ago. I didn't ask questions. Here she is.

(Enter Hannah with the tea-tray.)

    laura (with a sort of grim jocosity). How d'ye do, Hannah?

    hannah. Nicely, thank you, Ma'am. How are you, Ma'am?

(Hannah, as she puts down the tray, is prepared to have her hand shaken: for it is a long time (thirty years or so in earthly measure) since they met. But Mrs. James is not so cordial as all that.)

    laura. I'm very tired.

    julia. You've come a long way.

(But Laura's sharp attention has gone elsewhere.)

    laura. Hannah, what have you got my best tray for? You know that is not to be used every day.

    julia. It's all right, Laura. You don't understand.

    laura. What don't I understand?

    julia. Here one always uses the best. Nothing wears out or gets broken.

    laura. Then where's the pleasure of it? If one always uses them and they never break—'best' means nothing!

    julia. It is a little puzzling at first. You must be patient.

    laura. I'm not a child, Julia.

    julia (beautifully ignoring). A little more coal, please, Hannah. (Then to her sister as she pours out the tea.) And how did you leave everybody?

    laura. Oh, pretty much as usual. Most of them having colds. That's how I got mine. Mrs. Hilliard came to call and left it behind her. I went out with it in an east wind and that finished me.

    julia. Oh, but how provoking! (She wishes to be sympathetic; but this is a line of conversation she instinctively avoids.)

    laura. No, Julia! . . . (This, delivered with force, arrests the criminal intention.) No sugar. To think of your forgetting that!

    julia (most sweetly). Milk?

    laura. Yes, you know I take milk.

(Crossing over, but sitting away from the tea-table, she lets her sister wait on her.)

    julia. Did Martha send me any message?

    laura. How could she? She didn't know I was coming.

    julia. Was it so sudden?

    laura. I sent for her and she didn't come. Think of that!

    julia. Oh! She would be sorry. Tea-cake?

    laura (taking the tea-cake that is offered her). I'm not so sure. She was nursing Edwin's boy through the measles, so of course I didn't count. (Nosing suspiciously.) Is this China tea?

    julia. If you like to think it. You have as you choose. How is our brother, Edwin?

    laura. His wife's more trying than ever. Julia, what a fool that woman is!

    julia. Well, let's hope he doesn't know it.

    laura. He must know. I've told him. She sent a wreath to my funeral, 'With love and fond affection, from Emily.' Fond fiddlesticks! Humbug! She knows I can't abide her.

    julia. I suppose she thought it was the correct thing.

    laura. And I doubt if it cost more than ten shillings. Now Mrs. Dobson—you remember her: