But we were compelled to admit that we were
not much of a pig man.
"Ah," said the Great Novelist, "perhaps you are more of
a dog man?"
"Not altogether a dog man," we answered.
"Anything of a bee man?" he asked.
"Something," we said (we were once stung by a bee).
"Ah," he said, "you shall have a go at the beehives,
then, right away?"
We assured him that we were willing to postpone a go at
the beehives till later.
"Come along, then, to the styes," said the Great Novelist,
and he added, "Perhaps you're not much of a breeder."
We blushed. We thought of the five little faces around
the table for which we provide food by writing our
interviews.
"No," we said, "we were not much of a breeder."
"Now then," said the Great Novelist as we reached our
goal, "how do you like this stye?"
"Very much indeed," we said.
"I've put in a new tile draining--my own plan. You notice
how sweet it keeps the stye."
We had not noticed this.
"I am afraid," said the Novelist, "that the pigs are all
asleep inside."
We begged him on no account to waken them. He offered to
open the little door at the side and let us crawl in. We
insisted that we could not think of intruding.
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