Still Not Satisfied
Mrs. Higgins was an incurable grumbler. She grumbled at everything and everyone. But at last the vicar (приходский священник; викарий) thought he had found something about which she could make no complaint; the old lady's crop of potatoes was certainly the finest for miles round.
‘Ah, for once you must be well pleased,’ he said, with a beaming smile, as he met her in the village street. ‘Everyone's saying how splendid your potatoes are this year.’
The old lady glowered at him as she answered:
‘They're not so poor. But where's the bad ones for the pigs?’