ts 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.

"These, ladies," she said, "as you will have guessed, are for the winter
wear of our parish poor. Though you are not all so fortunate as to belong
to our church, still I feel there is not one of you here but will be more
than glad to help forward so blessed a charity as clothing the naked"
(Mrs. Upjohn, in view of the nature of the garments, spoke even more
literally than she intended), "who none the less need your ministrations
whether you worship with us or apart. Maria, my child, Bell, Phebe,
Mattie, will you kindly distribute the work among the ladies? There is
another basket ready outside if the supply gives out. Dick, I would like
you to carry around the thimbles. Jake, here are the needles and the
spools and the scissors. If I may be permitted, ladies, I would suggest
that we should all begin with the button-holes."

Nothing but the thought of the recompense in the coming supper could
have sustained Mrs. Upjohn's doomed guests in the prospect before them.
Extracts from Baroness Bunsen, and buttonholes in canton-flannel charity
nightgowns, and a hot July afternoon, made a sum of misery that was
almost too great a tax upon even Joppian amiability.

"I say it's a shame!" cried Bell Masters, in unconcealed wrath. "The idea
of springing such a trap on us! Let Mrs. Upjohn's parish sew for its own
poor, _I_ won't crease my fresh dress holding that great, thick lump on
my lap all the afternoon. I'm not going to be swindled into helping in
this fashion."

"Oh, yes you are," said Mr. Halloway, bubbling over with suppressed
merriment at the intense fun of it all. "There isn't one of you here who
will refuse. I never knew any thing so delightful and novel in my whole
life. This condensed combination, in one afternoon party of charity,
literature, and indigestion is masterly. Miss Mudge, here is a seat for
you right by Miss Masters. Miss Phebe, let me find you a chair."

And in a few moments, simply, it seemed, by the natural law of
gravitation, without any engineering whatever, Mrs. Upjohn's guests had
resolved themselves into two distinct parties, the elders all in the
drawing-room, the younger ones in the parlor across the hall, too far off
from Mr. Web