Just had a letter from the pater about my half-term report. He seems in a fairly rotten state.
(Reply.
November 7.
Dear Moppy,—Thanks awfully for the 9d. I am about broke, owing to my half-term report coinsiding with my birthday. Putrid luck, I call
it. Still, Aunt Deborah hasn't weighed in yet. All right, send along your bandy-legged XV, and we will return them to you knock-kneed. I must stop now, as we are going to rag a man's study for wearing a dickey.—Your affec. brother,
E. Bumpleigh.)
No. V
The Laburnums, Surbiton,
Monday, Nov. 6.
My Dear Nephew,—Another year has gone by, and once more I am reminded that my little godson is growing up to man's estate. Your fifteenth birthday! And I remember when you were only—(Here Master Egbert skips three sheets and comes to the last page of the letter) ... I am sending you a birthday present—something of greater value than usual. It is a handsome and costly edition of Forty Years of Missionary Endeavour in Eastern Polynesia, recently published. The author has actually signed his name upon the fly-leaf for you. Think of that! The illustrations are by an Associate of the Royal Academy. I hope you are well, and pursuing your studies diligently.—Your affectionate aunt,
Deborah Sitwell.