n we came in that you were the very man for us. 'If old
Garnet's in town,' I said, 'we'll have him. A man with his flow of
ideas will be invaluable on a chicken farm.' Didn't I, Millie?"

Mrs. Ukridge murmured the response.

"You see, I'm one of these practical men. I go straight ahead,
following my nose. What you want in a business of this sort is a touch
of the dreamer to help out the practical mind. We look to you for
suggestions, Montmorency. Timely suggestions with respect to the
comfort and upbringing of the fowls. And you can work. I've seen you.
Of course you take your share of the profits. That's understood. Yes,
yes, I must insist. Strict business between friends. We must arrange
it all when we get down there. My wife is the secretary of the firm.
She has been writing letters to people, asking for fowls. So you see
it's a thoroughly organized concern. There's money in it, old horse.
Don't you forget that."

"We should be so disappointed if you did not come," said Mrs. Ukridge,
lifting her childlike eyes to Garnet's face.

Garnet stood against the mantelpiece and pondered. In after years he
recognized that that moment marked an epoch in his life. If he had
refused the invitation, he would not have--but, to quote the old
novelists, we anticipate. At any rate, he would have missed a
remarkable experience. It is not given to everyone to see Mr. Stanley
Ukridge manage a chicken farm.

"The fact is," he said at last, "I was thinking of going somewhere
where I could get some golf."

Ukridge leaped on the table triumphantly.

"Lyme Regis is just the place for you, then. Perfect hotbed of golf.
Fine links at the top of the hill, not half a mile from the farm.
Bring your clubs. You'll be able to have a round or two in the
afternoons. Get through serious work by lunch time."

"You know," said Garnet, "I am absolutely inexperienced as regards
fowls."

"Excellent!" said Ukridge. "Then you're just the man. You will bring
to the work a mind entirely unclouded by theories. You will act solely
by the light of your intelligence."

"Er--yes," said Garnet.

"I wouldn't have a professional chicken farmer about the place if he
paid to come. Natural intelligence is what we want. Then we can rely
on you?"

"Very well," said Garnet slowly. "It's very kind of you to ask me."

"It's business, Cuthbert, business. Very well, then. We shall catch
the eleven-twenty at Waterloo. Don't miss it. You book to Axminster.
Look ou