"I thought you had. We'd better start at once. Nothing upsets a fowl
more than having to wait for dinner."

"Nonsense, me dear Molly," said Mr. McEachern bluffly. "Run along and
show Mr. Wesson the roses. Nobody wants to waste time over a bunch of
hens."

"Perhaps not," said Jimmy thoughtfully, "perhaps not. I might be
better employed here, amusing the people by telling them all about our
old New York days and----"

Mr. McEachern might have been observed, and was so observed by Jimmy,
to swallow somewhat convulsively.

"But as Molly promised ye----" said he.

"Just so," said Jimmy. "My own sentiments, neatly expressed. Shall we
start, Miss McEachern?"

"That fellah," said Mr. Wesson solemnly to his immortal soul, "is a
damn bounder. _And_ cad," he added after a moment's reflection.

The fowls lived in a little world of noise and smells at the back of
the stables. The first half of the journey thither was performed in
silence. Molly's cheerful little face was set in what she probably
imagined to be a forbidding scowl. The tilt of her chin spoke of
displeasure.

"If a penny would be any use to you," said Jimmy, breaking the
tension.