There was an awful period, during which Mr Woolgar kept on saying ‘Quite’, ‘Just so’, ‘I see’, ‘Yes, dear’, with the most tedious monotony, in answer to unintelligible quacking noises from the other end.

‘Quite impossible, I am afraid,’ he said at length. ‘Miss Poppit only keeps one servant, and she’s got to look after the house. Besides, Miss Poppit likes… likes to be private when she’s enjoying the sun.’

‘But how tarsome,’ said Georgie. ‘What am I to do?’

‘Well, sir, there’s Miss Poppit’s mother you might get hold of. She is Mrs Wyse now. Lately married. A beautiful wedding. The house you want is her property.’

‘I know,’ broke in Lucia. ‘Sables and a Rolls-Royce. Mr Wyse has a monocle.’

‘Ah, if you know the lady, madam, that will be all right, and I can give you her address. Starling Cottage, Porpoise Street. I will write it down for you.’

‘Georgie, Porpoise Street!’ whispered Lucia in an entranced aside. ‘Com’ e bello e molto characteristuoso!’

While this was being done, Diva suddenly blew in, beginning to speak before she was wholly inside the office. A short tempestuous interlude ensued.

‘– morning, Mr Woolgar,’ said Diva, ‘and I’ve let Wasters, so you can cross it off your books: such a fine morning.’

‘Indeed, madam,’ said Mr Woolgar. ‘Very satisfactory. And I hope your dear little canary is better.’

‘Still alive and in less pain, thank you, pip,’ said Diva, and plunged through the excavations outside sooner than waste time in going round.

Mr Woolgar apparently understood that ‘pip’ was not a salutation but a disease of canaries, and did not say ‘So long’ or ‘Pip pip’. Calm returned again.

‘I’ll ring up Mrs Wyse to say you will call, madam,’ he said. ‘Let me see: what name? It has escaped me for the moment.’

As he had never known it, it was difficult to see how it could have escaped.

‘Mrs Lucas and Mr Pillson,’ said Lucia. ‘Where is Porpoise Street?’

‘Two minutes’ walk from here, madam. As if you were going up to Mallards, but first turning to the right just short of it.’

‘Many thanks,’ said Lucia, ‘I know Mallards.’

‘The best house in Tilling, madam,’ said Mr Woolgar, ‘if you were wanting something larger than Mallards Cottage. It is on our books, too.’

The pride of proprietorship tempted Lucia for a moment to say ‘I’ve got it already,’ but she refrained. The complications which might have ensued, had she asked the price of it, were endless…

‘A great many houses to let in Tilling,’ she said.

‘Yes, madam, a rare lot of letting goes on about this time of year,’ said Mr Woolgar, ‘but they’re all snapped up very quickly. Many ladies in Tilling like a little change in the summer.’