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Updated: June 10, 2025
"If we'd wanted an advertisement for the farm," said Ukridge on one of these occasions, "we couldn't have had a better one than you, Garny, my boy. You have brought us three distinct orders for eggs during the last week. And I'll tell you what it is, we need all the orders we can get that'll bring us in ready money. The farm is in a critical condition. The coffers are low, deuced low.
I give you my honest word, laddie, that there was a time, towards the middle of our acquaintance after she had stopped mixing me up with the man who came to wind the clocks when that woman ate out of my hand! Twice on two separate occasions she actually asked my advice about feeding her toy Pomeranian! Well, that shows you! Bustle 'em, laddie! Bustle 'em!" "Ukridge," I said, "you inspire me.
It seems unfair, though I imagine Ukridge bears it with fortitude. That much-enduring man has had a lifetime's training in bearing things with fortitude. He seemed in his customary jovial spirits now, as he dashed into the room, clinging on to the pince-nez which even ginger-beer wire rarely kept stable for two minutes together.
The barking rang through the house. "Come round to the back," said Ukridge, giving up the idea of conciliation, "we'll get in through the kitchen window." The kitchen window proved to be insecurely latched. Ukridge threw it open and we climbed in. The dog, hearing the noise, raced back along the passage and flung himself at the door, scratching at the panels.
Ukridge, who by this time saw, as Calverley almost said, "under every hat a dun," and imagined that no envelope could contain anything but a small account, softly and silently vanished away, leaving me to interview the enemy. "Mr. Garnet, sir?" said the foe. I recognised him. He was Professor Derrick's gardener. I opened the envelope. No. Father's blessings were absent.
"This," said Ukridge, leaning against the door and endeavouring to button his collar at the back, "reminds me of an afternoon in the Argentine. Two other cheery sportsmen and myself tried for three-quarters of an hour to get into an empty house where there looked as if there might be something to drink, and we'd just got the door open when the owner turned up from behind a tree with a shot-gun.
Ukridge went into the house, and the vanguard of the audience began to come on to the lawn. Several of them looked flushed and dishevelled. I have a suspicion that Beale had shaken sobriety into them. Charlie, I noticed, had a black eye.
"Broadly speaking, I should say, one who guffs." "I believe it's actionable." "I shouldn't wonder." Ukridge rushed to the door. "Millie!" He slammed the door, and I heard him dashing upstairs. I turned to my letters. One was from Lickford, with a Cornish postmark. I glanced through it and laid it aside for a more exhaustive perusal. The other was in a strange handwriting.
Ukridge is ten pounds eight shillings and fourpence. I want to know " The whole strength of the company now joined in. "You know me, Mr. Garnet. "...and eightpence." "My account with Mr. Uk..." "...settle..." "I represent Bodger ..." A diversion occurred at this point. Charlie, who had long been eyeing Beale sourly, dashed at him with swinging fists, and was knocked down again.
"Who is Edwin?" I asked. We were finishing breakfast on the second morning after my visit to the Derricks. I had related my adventures to the staff of the farm on my return, laying stress on the merits of our neighbours and their interest in our doings, and the Hired Retainer had been sent off next morning with a note from Mrs. Ukridge inviting them to look over the farm and stay to dinner.
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