Read Dulce Et Decorum Est (Naughty or Nice) for Free Online Page B

upon any prospective inheritance. He says he intends to live to a ripe old age and keep us all waiting in any case! I hope he does,” Matthew added in a quieter tone, his hand on George’s shoulder proof he hadn’t forgotten his friend’s loss. “I should hate to lose him.”
    The Reverend being occupied with a crib service for the village children, it was the lady of the house who welcomed them. Matthew’s mother was an unusually tall woman, thin as a beanpole and as energetic as a whippet. She greeted her son with a kiss that left him with powder on his shoulder and a faint lipstick mark on his cheek. She then proceeded to bestow the same honor upon George, rather to his discomfort. “Welcome to our home, dear. So glad that Matthew’s found such a good friend in London—a mother does worry so, particularly when—”
    “Mother!”
    “Sorry, darling. Now, was your journey all right, George? I may call you George, mayn’t I? And you must call me Evelyn, of course.”
    “Oh, ah, fine, thank you,” George said, not quite certain which question he was answering.
    “Now, Agnes and her husband have got her old room, so I’ve put you two in Jimmy’s room—I hope that’s all right with you, George?—and Jimmy’s sleeping in with Peter.”
    “Is Agnes here already, Mother?”
    “No, she and Gerald are motoring down and won’t be with us until tea time. Now, why don’t you two boys go hang your things in your room, and I’ll go and chase up some tea?”
    They escaped up the stairs. “Sorry about that,” Matthew murmured under his breath. “I forget how overwhelming she can be if you’re not used to her. This way.”
    The room he led George to was large and cheerful-looking, and very tidy. It held twin beds—“I used to share with Jimmy, before I left home,” Matthew explained. “Really, it should have been he and Peter, I suppose, as they’re the youngest, but we were all quite happy this way. Actually, I had the devil of a time when first I moved out, getting used to not nodding off to someone else’s snores!”
    George nodded sympathetically. “I know what you mean—after sleeping in the dorm all term, I always found it rather eerie to have a room to myself in school holidays.” Having made this rare, unguarded reference to his past, George tensed, sure that Matthew would take the opportunity to enquire as to which school he’d attended.
    But Matthew simply smiled at him and said, “Come on, now—let’s get our things sorted out and go and have some tea. I’m spitting feathers, as Mrs. Mac would say!”
    By the time they returned downstairs, more guests had arrived: a tall, cheerful-looking man with dark hair and a moustache who was just divesting himself of a motoring coat, and a very pregnant young lady in a cloche hat. Matthew greeted them with a fond cry. “Aggie! Gerald, old man! Good Lord, Aggie—look at you! You’re the size of a small house!”
    “You know, Matthew, dear,” the lady said, striding forward and pulling off her gloves to give her brother an awkward hug, “most people just offer congratulations and enquire when the happy event is expected.” Close up, George could see that she had Matthew’s sparkling blue eyes and ready smile.
    “Oh, I’m sure there’s some ordinance exempting brothers from all that sort of thing. But when is it due? By the look of you, we should be sending for the midwife without delay—and then getting ready to saddle the poor infant with one of those dreadful Christmas names, like Noel or Emmanuel. And by the by, I am extremely cross that you’ve kept this such a secret from me!” He didn’t, of course, look in the least cross—in fact he was as flushed with pleasure as if it were the birth of his own child he were anticipating and not his sister’s.
    “I just couldn’t resist surprising you, I’m afraid,” Agnes admitted with a dimpled smile that made her appear barely old enough to be married, although Matthew had told George