And now Caroline had to usher them upstairs, to help them to unshawl, smooth their hair, and make themselves smart; to reconduct them to the drawing room, to distribute amongst them books of engravings, or odd things purchased from the Jew-basket. She was obliged to be a purchaser, though she was but a slack contributor; and if she had possessed plenty of money, she would rather, when it was brought to the rectory – an awful incubus! – have purchased the whole stock than contributed a single pincushion.
It ought perhaps to be explained in passing, for the benefit of those who are not au fait to the mysteries of the “Jew-basket” and “missionary-basket,” that these meubles are willow repositories, of the capacity of a good-sized family clothesbasket, dedicated to the purpose of conveying from house to house a monster collection of pincushions, needle books, card racks, workbags, articles of infant wear, etc., etc., etc., made by the willing or reluctant hands of the Christian ladies of a parish, and sold perforce to the heathenish gentlemen thereof, at prices unblushingly exorbitant. The proceeds of such compulsory sales are applied to the conversion of the Jews, the seeking up of the ten missing tribes, or to the regeneration of the interesting coloured population of the globe. Each lady contributor takes it in her turn to keep the basket a month, to sew for it, and to foist off its contents on a shrinking male public. An exciting time it is when that turn comes round. Some active-minded woman, with a good trading spirit, like it, and enjoy exceedingly the fun of making hard-handed worsted-spinners cash up, to the tune of four or five hundred per cent above cost price, for articles quite useless to them; other feebler souls object to it, and would rather see the prince of darkness himself at their door any morning than that phantom basket, brought with “Mrs. Rouse’s compliments; and please, ma’am, she says it’s your turn now.”
Miss Helstone’s duties of hostess performed, more anxiously than cheerily, she betook herself to the kitchen, to hold a brief privy-council with Fanny and Eliza about the tea.
“What a lot on ’em!” cried Eliza, who was cook. “And I put off the baking today because I thought there would be bread plenty to fit while morning. We shall never have enow.”