"Yes, dear," said Mrs. Ukridge with shining eyes.
"We've fixed it all up. Do you know Lyme Regis, in Dorsetshire? On the
borders of Devon. Quiet little fishing village. Bathing. Sea air.
Splendid scenery. Just the place for a chicken farm. I've been looking
after that. A friend of my wife's has lent us a jolly old house with
large grounds. All we've got to do is to get in the fowls. That's all
right. I've ordered the first lot. We shall find them waiting for us
when we arrive."
|