"What's the matter with them?"
"It looks to me," I said, "as if they were tired of life. They seem
hipped."
"Oh, do look at that poor little brown one by the coop," said Mrs.
Ukridge sympathetically, "I'm sure it's not well. See, it's lying
down. What _can_ be the matter with it?"
"Can a chicken get a fit of the blues?" I asked. "Because, if so,
that's what they've got. I never saw a more bored-looking lot of
birds."
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