s did not come up to my scheduled prices, I admit, but
we mustn't sneer at small prices at first."

The upshot of it was that the firms mentioned supplied us with a
quantity of goods, agreeing to receive phantom eggs in exchange. This
satisfied Ukridge. He had a faith in the laying powers of his hens
which would have flattered those birds if they could have known of it.
It might also have stimulated their efforts in that direction, which
up to date were feeble. This, however, I attributed to the fact that
the majority of our fowls--perhaps through some sinister practical
joke on the part of the manager who had the manners of a marquis--were
cocks. It vexed Ukridge. "Here we are," he said complainingly, "living
well and drinking well, in a newly furnished house, having to keep a
servant and maintain our position in life, with expenses mounting and
not a penny coming in. It's absurd. We've got hundreds of hens (most
of them cocks, it's true, but I forgot they didn't lay), and getting
not even enough eggs for our own table. We must make some more
arrangements. Come on in and let us think the thing out."

But this speech was the outcome of a rare moment of pessimism. In his
brighter moods he continued to express unbounded faith in the hens,
and was willing to leave the thing to time.

Meanwhile, we were creating quite a small sensation in the
neighborhood. The interest of the natives was aroused at first by the
fact that nearly all of them received informal visits from our fowls,
which had strayed. Small boys would arrive in platoons, each bearing
his quota of stragglers. "Be these your 'ens, zur?" was the formula.
"If they be, we've got twenty-fower mower in our yard. Could 'ee coom
over and fetch 'em?"

However, after the hired retainer and I had completed our work with
the wire netting, desertions became less frequent. People poured in
from villages for miles around to look at the up-to-date chicken farm.
It was a pleasing and instructive spectacle to see Ukridge, in a pink
shirt without a collar, and very dirty flannel trousers, lecturing to
the intelligent natives on the breeding of fowls. They used to go away
with the dazed air of men who have heard strange matters, and Ukridge,
unexhausted, would turn to interview the next batch. I fancy we gave
Lyme Regis something to think about. Ukridge must have been in the
nature of a staggerer to the rustic mind.

It was now, as I have said, Thursday, the twenty-second of