because the whisky isn't as good as some he once tasted in Belfast.
From the basement I can hear faintly the murmur of innumerable fowls."



CHAPTER VI

MR. GARNET'S NARRATIVE--
HAS TO DO WITH A REUNION

The day was Thursday, the date July the twenty-second. We had been
chicken-farmers for a whole week, and things were beginning to settle
down to a certain extent. The coops were finished. They were not
masterpieces, and I have seen chickens pause before them in deep
thought, as who should say, "Now what?" but they were coops within the
meaning of the Act, and we induced hens to become tenants.

The hardest work had been the fixing of the wire-netting. This was the
department of the Hired Man and myself, Ukridge holding himself
proudly aloof. While Beale and I worked ourselves to a fever in the
sun, the senior partner of the firm sat on a deck-chair in the shade,
offering not unkindly criticism and advice and from time to time
abusing his creditors, who were numerous. For we had hardly been in
residence a day before he began to order in a vast supply of necessary
and unnecessary things, all on credit. Some he got from the village,
others from neighbouring towns. Axminster he laid heavily under
contribution. He even went as far afield as Dorchester. He had a
persuasive way with him, and the tradesmen seemed to treat him like a
favourite son. The things began to pour in from all sides,--groceries,
whisky, a piano, a gramophone, pictures. Also cigars in great