Love Among the Chickens A Story of the Haps and Mishaps on an English Chicken Farm

Mr. Jeremy Garnet stood with his back to the empty grate – for the time was summer – watching with a jaundiced eye the removal of his breakfast things. Mrs. Medley, he said. Sir? Would it bore you if I became auto-biographical? Sir? "Never mind. I merely wish to sketch for your benefit a portion of my life's history. At eleven o'clock last night I went to bed, and at once sank into a dreamless sleep. About four hours later there was a clattering on the stairs which shook the house like a jelly. It was the gentleman in the top room – I forget his name – returning to roost. He was humming a patriotic song. A little while later there were a couple of loud crashes. He had removed his boots. All this while snatches of the patriotic song came to me through the ceiling of my bedroom. At about four-thirty there was a lull, and I managed to get to sleep again. I wish when you see that gentleman, Mrs. Medley, you would give him my compliments, and ask him if he could shorten his program another night