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: she lives in Tudor Street with a daughter one
never sees--something wrong in her head, and has fits--she sent me a cross
of lilies, white lilac, and stephanotis, as handsome as you could wish;
and a card--I forget what was on the card.... Julia, when you died--
JULIA. Oh, don't Laura!
LAURA. Well, you did die, didn't you?
JULIA. Here one doesn't talk of it. That's over. There are things you will
have to learn.
LAURA. What I was going to say was--when I died I found my sight was much
better. I could read all the cards without my glasses. Do _you_ use
glasses?
JULIA. Sometimes, for association. I have these of our dear Mother's in
her tortoise-shell case.
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