Love Among the Chickens P. G. Wodehouse (ink ebook reader .txt) đ
- Author: P. G. Wodehouse
Book online «Love Among the Chickens P. G. Wodehouse (ink ebook reader .txt) đ». Author P. G. Wodehouse
âError!â shouted Ukridge, pounding the table till it groaned. âError? Not a bit of it. Canât you follow a simple calculation like that? Oh, I forgot to say that you getâ âand here is the nub of the thingâ âyou get your first hen on tick. Anybody will be glad to let you have the hen on tick. Well, then, you let this henâ âthis first, original hen, this on-tick henâ âyou let it set and hatch chickens. Now follow me closely. Suppose you have a dozen hens. Very well, then. When each of the dozen has a dozen chickens, you send the old hens back to the chappies you borrowed them from, with thanks for kind loan; and there you are, starting business with a hundred and forty-four free chickens to your name. And after a bit, when the chickens grow up and begin to lay, all you have to do is to sit back in your chair and endorse the big cheques. Isnât that so, Millie?â
âYes, dear.â
âWeâve fixed it all up. Do you know Combe Regis, in Dorsetshire? On the borders of Devon. Bathing. Sea-air. Splendid scenery. Just the place for a chicken farm. A friend of Millieâsâ âgirl she knew at schoolâ âhas lent us a topping old house, with large grounds. All weâve got to do is to get in the fowls. Iâve ordered the first lot. We shall find them waiting for us when we arrive.â
âWell,â I said, âIâm sure I wish you luck. Mind you let me know how you get on.â
âLet you know!â roared Ukridge. âWhy, my dear old horse, youâre coming with us.â
âAm I?â I said blankly.
âCertainly you are. We shall take no refusal. Will we, Millie?â
âNo, dear.â
âOf course not. No refusal of any sort. Pack up tonight and meet us at Waterloo tomorrow.â
âItâs awfully good of youâ ââ âŠâ
âNot a bit of itâ ânot a bit of it. This is pure business. I was saying to Millie as we came along that you were the very man for us. A man with your flow of ideas will be invaluable on a chicken farm. Absolutely invaluable. You see,â proceeded Ukridge, âIâm one of those practical fellows. The hardheaded type. 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, laddie. Flashes of inspiration and all that sort of thing. Of course, you take your share of the profits. Thatâs understood. Yes, yes, I must insist. Strict business between friends. Now, taking it that, at a conservative estimate, the net profits for the first fiscal year amount toâ âfive thousandâ âno, better be on the safe sideâ âsay, four thousand five hundred poundsâ ââ ⊠But weâll arrange all that end of it when we get down there. Millie will look after that. Sheâs the secretary of the concern. Sheâs been writing letters to people asking for hens. So you see itâs a thoroughly organised business. How many hen-letters did you write last week, old girl?â
âTen, dear.â
Ukridge turned triumphantly to me.
âYou hear? Ten. Ten letters asking for hens. Thatâs the way to succeed. Push and enterprise.â
âSix of them havenât answered, Stanley, dear, and the rest refused.â
âImmaterial,â said Ukridge with a grand gesture. âThat doesnât matter. The point is that the letters were written. It shows we are solid and practical. Well now, can you get your things ready by tomorrow, Garny old horse?â
Strange how one reaches an epoch-making moment in oneâs life without recognising it. If I had refused that invitation, I would not haveâ âat any rate, I would have missed a remarkable experience. It is not given to everyone to see Stanley Featherstonehaugh Ukridge manage a chicken farm.
âI was thinking of going somewhere where I could get some golf,â I said undecidedly.
âCombe Regis is just the place for you, then. Perfect hotbed of golf. Full of the finest players. Canât throw a brick without hitting an amateur champion. Grand links at the top of the hill not half a mile from the farm. Bring your clubs. Youâll be able to play in the afternoons. Get through serious work by lunch time.â
âYou know,â I said, âI am absolutely inexperienced as regards fowls. I just know enough to help myself to bread sauce when I see one, but no more.â
âExcellent! Youâre just the man. You will bring to the work a mind unclouded by theories. You will act solely by the light of your intelligence. And youâve got lots of that. That novel of yours showed the most extraordinary intelligenceâ âat least as far as that blighter at the bookstall would let me read. I wouldnât have a professional chicken farmer about the place if he paid to come. If he applied to me, I should simply send him away. Natural intelligence is what we want. Then we can rely on you?â
âVery well,â I said slowly. âItâs very kind of you to ask me.â
âBusiness, laddie, pure business. Very well, then. We shall catch the eleven-twenty at Waterloo. Donât miss it. Look out for me on the platform. If I see you first, Iâll shout.â
III Waterloo Station, Some Fellow-Travellers, and a Girl with Brown HairThe austerity of Waterloo Station was lightened on the following morning at ten minutes to eleven, when I arrived to catch the train to Combe Regis, by several gleams of sunshine and a great deal of bustle and activity on the various platforms. A porter took my suitcase and golf-clubs, and arranged an assignation on Number 6 platform. I bought my ticket, and made my way to the bookstall, where, in the interests of trade, I inquired in a loud and penetrating voice if they had got Jeremy Garnetâs ManĆuvres of Arthur. Being informed that they had not, I clicked my tongue reproachfully, advised them to order in a supply, as the demand was likely to be large, and spent a couple of shillings on a magazine and some weekly
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