DEAR MR. PETHERTON,—­Miss Gore-Langley has written to me to say that she is getting up a Rag Auction on behalf of the Belgian Relief Fund, and not knowing you personally, and having probably heard that I am connected by ties of kinship with you, she asked me to approach you on the subject of any old clothes you may have to spare in such a cause.

Of course I’m not suggesting you should allow yourself to be denuded in the cause (like Lady GODIVA), but I daresay you have some odds and ends stowed away that you would contribute; for instance, that delightful old topper that you were wont to go to church in before the War, and that used to cause a titter among the choir—­can’t you get the moths to let you have it?  Neckties, again.  Where are the tartans of ’71?  Surely there may be some bonny stragglers left in your tie-bins.  And who fears to talk of ’98 and its fancy waistcoats?  All rancour about them has passed away, and if you have any ring-straked or spotted survivors, no doubt they would fetch something in a good cause.  I hope you will see what you can do for

    Yours very truly,

    HENRY J. FORDYCE.

Petherton’s reply was brief.  He wrote:—­

SIR—­Had Miss Gore-Langley chosen a better channel for the conveyance of her wishes I should have been only too pleased to do what I could to help.  As it is, I do not care to have anything to do with the affair.

    Yours faithfully,

    FREDERICK PETHERTON.

But he was better than his word, as I soon discovered.  So I wrote:—­

DEAR PETHERTON,—­I have had such a treat to-day.  I took one or two things across to Miss Gore-Langley, who was unpacking your noble contributions when I arrived.  Talk about family histories; your parcel spoke volumes.

    I was frightfully interested in that brown bowler with the flat
    brim, and those jam-pot collars.  Parting with them must have been
    such sweet sorrow.

I feel like bidding for some of your things, among which I also noted an elegantly-worked pair of braces.  With a little grafting on to the remains of those I am now wearing, the result should be something really serviceable.  I don’t mind confessing to you that I simply can’t bring my mind to buying any new wearing apparel just now.  I’d like the bowler too.  It should help to keep the birds from my vegetables, and incidentally the wolf from the door.  And seeing it fluttering in the breeze you would have a continual reminder of your own salad days.

Surely the priceless family portrait in the Oxford oak frame got into the parcel by mistake.  I am expecting to acquire that for a song, as it cannot be of interest except to one of the family, and I should be glad to number it among my heirlooms.

    Miss G.-L. is awfully braced with the haul, and asked me to thank
    you, which is one of my objects in writing this.