The Nice and the Good Read Online Free PDF Page A

one.”
    “Do you know which is the largest of all birds?” said Edward, pushing his way in between Mary and his sister.
    “No. Which is?”
    “The cassowary. He eats Papuans. He kills them by hitting them with his feet.”
    “I think the condor is bigger,” said Henrietta.
    “It depends whether you mean wing-span or weight,” said Edward.
    “What about the albatross?” said Paula. She was always ready to enter into an argument with her children, whom she treated invariably as rational adults.
    “He has the biggest wing-span,” said Edward, “but he has a much smaller body. Do you know how big a breast bone we should need to have if we were going to fly? Mary, do you know how big a breast bone we should need to have if we were going to fly?”
    “I don’t know,” said Mary. “How big?”
    “Fourteen feet wide.”
    “Really? Fancy that.”
    “In the case of the condor—” said Paula.
    “Do be careful, Henrietta,” said Mary to Henrietta, who was engaged in hitting her brother’s face with one of Montrose’s paws.
    “It’s all right, his claws are in,” said Henrietta.
    “Mine wouldn’t be if I were him,” said Casie. “When I was your age I was taught not to maul my pets about.”
    “I do wish you’d do something about those stones,” said Mary. “We shall all be falling over them. Couldn’t you put them in order of merit, and then we could find a home outside for the less important ones?”
    The idea of putting the stones in order of merit appealed at once to the twins. They dropped the cat and settled down on the floor with the pile of stones between them and were soon deep in argument.
    “Has Theo been up to see Willy?” asked Paula.
    “No. I suggested it, but he just laughed and said he wasn’t Willy’s keeper.”
    Willy Kost, a refugee scholar, lived in a bungalow on Octavian’s estate which was known as Trescombe Cottage, a little further up the hill from Trescombe House. Willy suffered from a melancholia which was a cause of anxiety to the household.
    “I suppose they’ve quarrelled again. They’re like a couple of children. Have you been up?”
    “No,” said Mary. “I haven’t had a moment. I sent Pierce up and Willy seemed OK. Have you been?”
    “No,” said Paula. “I’ve had a pretty full day too.”
    Mary was rather relieved. She felt that Willy Kost was her own special responsibility, practically her property, and it mattered that she was always the one who knew how Willy was. She would go up and see him tomorrow.
    “It’s just as well Ducane is coming,” said Paula. “He always does Willy good.”
    “Is Ducane coming?” said Mary. “I wish somebody would tell me something sometimes!”
    “I suppose you realise the room isn’t ready,” said Casie.
    “I think Kate assumes it’s a regular thing now and that’s why she didn’t tell you.”
    John Ducane, a friend and colleague of Octavian’s, was a frequent weekend visitor.
    “Casie, would you mind doing the room after tea?”
    “Of course I mind,” said Casie, “in my one bit of free time; what you mean is will I, yes I will.”
    At that moment Kate Gray came into the kitchen, followed by Mingo, and at once as if struck by some piercing stellar ray the scene dissolved into its atoms and reassembled itself round Kate as centre. Mary saw, pinioned in some line of force, Paula’s keen smiling dog face, felt her own face lift and smile, her hair tossed, blown back. Mingo was barking, Montrose had jumped on to the table, Casie was pouring more hot water into the pot, the twins, disarranging their careful line of stones, were both chattering at once, fastening brown sandy hands on to the belt of Kate’s striped dress.
    Kate’s bright round face beamed at them all out of the golden fuzz of her hair. Her warm untidy being emphasised the sleekness, the thinness, the compactness of the other two, Mary with her straight dark hair tucked behind her ears and her air of a Victorian governess, Paula with