"I hardly feel I've been round the estate properly yet," she said, when
tea was over, and she sat leaning back lazily in her deck-chair, with
Minx purring upon her knee.

"Then come and lend me a hand with my rabbit-hutch," suggested Hereward.
"Put down that wretched pampered beast of a cat, for goodness sake! If
it gets at my new rabbit, I'll finish it! Yes, I will! I'll hang it or
drown it! Get along, you brute!"

Hereward's blood-thirsty remarks were ignored by Minx, who, finding
herself dropped from Ingred's lap, took a flying run up his back, and
settled herself on his shoulder, rubbing her head into his neck. He
scratched her under the chin, swung her gently down, and shook a
reproving finger at her.

"Don't try to come round me with your blarneyings, you siren!" he
declared. "Who was it ate my goldfinch? Yes, you may well look guilty!
Don't blink your eyes at me like that! I haven't forgiven you yet, and I
don't think I ever shall. Ingred, old sport, are you coming to help me,
or are you not? I want some one to hold the wire."

"All right, Uncle Podger, I'll come and 'podge' for you," laughed
Ingred. "Don't hammer my fingers, that's all I bargain for. Wait a
moment till I get my overall. Your joinering performances are apt to be
somewhat grubby and messy."

There was quite a good garden at the back of the bungalow, with rows of
vegetables and gooseberry bushes and fruit-trees. At the end was a
wooden shed where the motor-bicycle was kept, and a small wired
enclosure originally made for hens.