The End of the Holidays Ingred! Ingred, old girl! I say, Ingred! Wherever have you taken yourself off to? shouted a boyish voice, as its owner, jumping an obstructing gooseberry bush, tore around the corner of the house from the kitchen garden on to the strip of rough lawn that faced the windows. Hullo! Cuckoo! Coo-ee! In-gred! I'm here all the time, so you needn't bawl! came in resigned tones from under the shade of a large fuchsia. You're enough to wake the dead, Chumps! What is it you want now! It's too hot to go a walk till after tea. I'm trying to get ten minutes peace and quiet!
