“Yes?” said the girl. She listened for a moment. “So you’re having your piano tuned?” she said. “My aunt has been trying to find a tuner for ours. Do you mind if I go in and tell this man to come on to us when he has finished here?”

I mopped the brow.

“Er⁠—I shouldn’t go in just now,” I said. “Not just now, while he’s working, if you don’t mind. These fellows can’t bear to be disturbed when they’re at work. It’s the artistic temperament. I’ll tell him later.”

“Very well. Ask him to call at Pine Bungalow. Vickers is the name⁠ ⁠… Oh, he seems to have stopped. I suppose he will be out in a minute now. I’ll wait.”

“Don’t you think⁠—shouldn’t you be getting on to the beach?” I said.

She had started talking to the kid and didn’t hear. She was feeling in her bag for something. “The beach,” I babbled.