(_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.
LAURA. That's sensible at any rate.
(EXIT _Mrs. James_)
JULIA. Well? And how do you find Laura?
MARTHA. Julia, I don't know whether I can stand her.
JULIA. She hasn't got quite--used to herself yet.
MARTHA (_explosively)._ Put that away somewhere! (_She gives an
angry shove to the wreath_)
JULIA. Put it away! Why?
MARTHA (_furiously)._ Emily made it: and it didn't cost anything; and
it hasn't got any maiden-hair fern in it; and it's too big to wear with
her cap. So it's good for nothing! Put it on the fire! She doesn't want to
see it again.
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