Love Among the Chickens A Story of the Haps and Mishaps on an English Chicken Farm
Fiction & Literature, Classics
| Author: | Pelham Grenville Wodehouse, Armand Both | ISBN: | 9782819902133 |
| Publisher: | Release Date: November 27, 2011 | Publication: | November 27, 2011 |
| Imprint: | pubOne.info | Language: | English |
| Author: | Pelham Grenville Wodehouse, Armand Both |
| ISBN: | 9782819902133 |
| Publisher: | Release Date: November 27, 2011 |
| Publication: | November 27, 2011 |
| Imprint: | pubOne.info |
| Language: | English |
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
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
