whatever they feed on. We must rig them
up some sort of shanty, I suppose, this morning. We'll go and tell 'em
to send up some wire-netting and stuff from the town."

"Then we shall want hen-coops. We shall have to make those."

"Of course. So we shall. Millie, didn't I tell you that old Garnet was
the man to think of things. I forgot the coops. We can't buy some, I
suppose? On tick, of course."

"Cheaper to make them. Suppose we get a lot of boxes. Sugar boxes are
as good as any. It won't take long to knock up a few coops."

Ukridge thumped the table with enthusiasm, upsetting his cup.

"Garny, old horse, you're a marvel. You think of everything. We'll
buckle to right away, and get the whole place fixed up the same as
mother makes it. What an infernal noise those birds are making. I
suppose they don't feel at home in the yard. Wait till they see the A1
compact residential mansions we're going to put up for them. Finished
breakfast? Then let's go out. Come along, Millie."

The red-headed Beale, discovered leaning in an attitude of thought on
the yard gate and observing the feathered mob below with much interest,
was roused from his reflections and despatched to the town for the wire
and sugar boxes. Ukridge, taking his place at the gate, gazed at the
fowls with the affectionate air of a proprietor.

"Well, they have certainly taken you at your word," I said, "as far as
variety is concerned."

The man with the manners of a marquess seemed to have been at great
pains to send a really representative selection of fowls. There were
blue ones, black ones, white, grey, yellow, brown, big, little,
Dorkings, Minorcas, Cochin Chinas, Bantams, Wyandottes. It was an
imposing spectacle.

The Hired Man returned towards the end of the morning, preceded by a
cart containing the necessary wire and boxes; and Ukridge, whose
enthusiasm brooked no delay, started immediately the task of fashioning
the coops, while I, assisted by Beale, draped the wire-netting about
the chosen spot next to the paddock. There were little
unpleasantnesses--once a roar of anguish told that Ukridge's hammer had
found the wrong billet, and on another occasion my flannel trousers
suffered on the wire--but the work proceeded steadily. By the middle of
the afternoon, things were in a sufficiently advanced state to suggest
to Ukridge the advisability of a halt for refreshments.

"That's the way to do it," he said, beaming through misty pince-nez
over a l