We sat on a low stool immediately beside Ethelinda
Afterthought, who presided in her own gracious fashion
over the tea-urn.
"So you want to know something of my methods of work?"
she said, as she poured hot tea over our leg.
"We do," we answered, taking out our little book and
recovering something of our enthusiasm. We do not mind
hot tea being poured over us if people treat us as a
human being.
"Can you indicate," we continued, "what method you follow
in beginning one of your novels?"
"I always begin," said Ethelinda Afterthought, "with a
study."
"A study?" we queried.
"Yes. I mean a study of actual facts. Take, for example,
my _Leaves from the Life of a Steam Laundrywoman_--more
tea?"
"No, no," we said.
"Well, to make that book I first worked two years in a
laundry."
"Two years!" we exclaimed. "And why?"
"To get the atmosphere."
"The steam?" we questioned.
"Oh, no," said Mrs. Afterthought, "I did that separately.
I took a course in steam at a technical school."
"Is it possible?" we said, our heart beginning to sing
again. "Was all that necessary?"
"I don't see how one could do it otherwise. The story
opens, as no doubt you remember--tea?--in the boiler room
of the laundry.
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