DAPHNE McLAUGHLIN (1902-87) was my adorable aunt. Nobody who met her failed to like and respect her. The same was true of her father, Major George McLaughlin of the Royal Horse Artillery, in whose memory she wears a jeweled Gunner's badge on her cloche hat.

Daphne and her sister Sheila were brought up to have perfect manners, but without the skills needed to earn a living. They could put anyone at ease, be he a duke or a dustman. Even this worked against them, because it made their social standing obvious. Applying to be a shop assistant, Daphne realized she would fail to qualify when the interviewer could not stop calling her "Madam."

She solved the problem by qualifying as a Fellow of The Imperial Society of Teachers of Dancing and opening a ballroom dance studio. Although my father was portly, to put it politely, he excelled as one of Daphne's students. I did not.

Daphne's mother Ethel used to relieve her affluent boredom by quarreling. Mostly she traded polyglot invective with the Italian ladiesmaid who made all her silk underwear. Then she would turn on her daughters. Daphne and Sheila used to joke about who was in Ethel's will that week to receive the diamond bracelets she always wore.

As a wedding present Daphne gave me and my bride Liliane her heirloom: a beautiful secretaire which we have donated to the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. To discover its secret compartments click here.

Being a devout Christian Scientist helped Daphne to restrain her temper so well that I saw her get angry only once ─ and I am sorry to admit that it was my lack of consideration that justly provoked her.

Being anorexic ensured that her food intake was minimal, which, like her calm devotion, promoted longevity. Daphne lived to be 85.