Early the next morning, at Frederick's desire, we left Buda-Pesth _en route_ for the Swiss Frontier. It was impossible, if he was to retain his reason, to stay longer in a city that had for him such tragic associations.
BULGARIA. "IT'S NO GOOD HAGGLING; WE'VE ALL GOT TO HAVE IT."
TURKEY. "WELL, I'M LAST, AND I DON'T CARE HOW LONG ANYBODY TAKES."]
[Illustration: _Temporary Officer (in department which they have forgotten to close down)._ "DASH IT! I DON'T SEE WHY WE SHOULDN'T GET UNEMPLOYMENT PAY."]
It was, in a sense, mutual. We had chickens; the chickens had us. On the other hand, they had the best of the bargain. We kept them; and they did not keep us.
My aunt insisted that we _must_ keep chickens, and you know my aunt.
Pardon! You don't know my aunt. She is an elderly maiden lady who "keeps house" for me. She is eminently practical--theoretically speaking.
She insisted. "With eggs at eightpence it's a sin and a shame not to keep hens in war-time."
I urged that the food would cost a good many eightpences--in war-time.
Her reply was "Pshaw!" (She really does say "Pshaw"--and means it.) "Pshaw! they will live on kitchen scraps."
We consulted Nibletts. He has a local reputation as a chicken expert, mainly, I believe, because he's a butcher. He recommended a breed called Wild Oats (by which he meant, I discovered, Wyandottes).
"You take my tip, Sir," he said, "and buy Wild Oats. If you'll excuse the word--" (Nibletts is always apologising for some term he is about to use, which promises to be inexpressibly shocking to polite ears, and never is)--"they're clinkers."
We ordered a round dozen. We also bought a hen-house fitted with all modern conveniences. The total outlay represented a prince's ransom; but, as I pointed out to my aunt, we had a run for our money.
The hens, when they arrived, were not strictly "as per" advertisement. We bought them as laying pullets, and they didn't lay for quite a time--so far as we knew. Nibletts, however, declared that they were "what you might call in the pink," and surmised that the train journey had "put 'em off the lay, as you might say." If eating and fighting were evidences of their being "in the pink," those birds must have enjoyed exceptional health. They also slept well, I believe.