The kid set up his usual
yell at the sight of her, and she stopped at the foot of the steps.
"Hello, baby!" she said. "Good morning," she said to me. "May I come
up?"
She didn't wait for an answer. She just came. She seemed to be that
sort of girl. She came up on the veranda and started fussing over the
kid. And six feet away, mind you, Freddie smiting the piano in the
sitting-room. It was a dash disturbing situation, don't you know. At
any minute Freddie might take it into his head to come out on to the
veranda, and we hadn't even begun to rehearse him in his part.
I tried to break up the scene.
"We were just going down to the beach," I said.
"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's finished here?"
"Er--not yet!" I said. "Not yet, if you don't mind. He can't bear to be
disturbed when he's working. It's the artistic temperament. I'll tell
him later."
"Very well," she said, getting up to go. "Ask him to call at Pine
Bungalow. West 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 we be going on to the beach?" I said.
She had started talking to the kid and didn't hear.
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