“I had thought first,” Mrs. Upjohn proceeded, “of a series of games as instructive as delightful, games of history and geography, and one particularly of astronomy, which I am persuaded would be very helpful.  It brought out the nature of the spectroscope in a remarkably clear and intelligent light, and after a few rounds I am sure none of us could ever again have forgotten those elusive figures relative to the distances and proportions of the planets.  However, that must be for another time.  For today I thought it would be a pleasure as well as a benefit to us all to learn something about a gifted and noble person who, I am surprised to find, is not so well known in Joppa as she should be, and whom, I am convinced, we should all be infinitely the better and happier for knowing.  I have, therefore, persuaded Mr. Webb, with whose powers as a reader long years of acquaintanceship have so pleasantly familiarized us, to read to us this afternoon extracts from the ’Life and Letters of the Baroness Bunsen.’”

“Good Lord!” ejaculated Dick beneath his breath, “who’s that?”

“Hush,” whispered Jake.  “I’ve got a novel of Miss Braddon’s in my pocket.  I thought it might come in handy.  That’ll help us through till feed time.”

“You are all familiar with the name, of course,” pursued Mrs. Upjohn, smiling graciously around the dismayed circle of her guests.  “The book has been in the library this long time past, and observing with regret that only its first fifty pages had been cut, I caught at this invaluable opportunity to make you further acquainted with it.”

Mr. Webb now came forward, a thick, green-bound volume in his hand, and a look on his face as if he were about to open the proceedings with a prayer, but Mrs. Upjohn held up her hand.

“One moment, please, before we begin.  We ladies are so unaccustomed to sitting with idle hands, even when listening to so absorbing a theme as the virtues of this truly excellent Christian wife and mother, that I thought it would be a kindness to ourselves to provide some simple work which should occupy our fingers and at the same time be in itself a worthy object of industry.  Maria, my dear.”

The silence in the room was appalling; one could almost hear the shiver of apprehension running down the silk-and muslin-clad backs.  The sign was given, however, by the docile Maria, and immediately two enormous baskets were brought in:  one, the smaller, containing every possible implement for unlimited sewing by unlimited hands; the other, of alarming dimensions, filled to overflowing with shapeless and questionable garments of a canton-flannel coarse, so yellow, so indestructible, so altogether unwearable and hideous, that had it been branded “charity” in flaming letters, its object could not have been more plainly designated.  Mrs. Upjohn lifted the top article and unfolded it lovingly.  It was a night-dress, atoning in lavishness of material for deficiency in grace of make, and would have been a loose fit for the wife of the giant Chang.