Ukridge's eyes gleamed behind their glasses.

"Give me a good large jug, laddie," he said with ominous calm.

He took the largest of the jugs from the dresser and strode with it
into the scullery, whence came a sound of running water. He returned
carrying the jug with both hands, his mien that of a general who sees
his way to a masterstroke of strategy.

"Garny, old horse," he said, "freeze onto the handle of the door, and,
when I give the word, fling wide the gates. Then watch that animal get
the surprise of a lifetime."

I attached myself to the handle as directed. Ukridge gave the word. We
had a momentary vision of an excited dog of the mongrel class framed
in the open doorway, all eyes and teeth; then the passage was occupied
by a spreading pool, and indignant barks from the distance told that
the enemy was thinking the thing over in some safe retreat.

"Settled /his/ hash," said Ukridge complacently. "Nothing like
resource, Garny my boy. Some men would have gone on letting a good
door be ruined."

"And spoiled the dog for a ha'porth of water," I said.

At this moment Mrs. Ukridge announced that the kettle was boiling.
Over a cup of tea Ukridge became the man of business.

"I wonder when those fowls are going to arrive. They should have been