"Do," said Shelby, "and hurry up with them. The postman will be along any minute now."
Peter grinned, and really set himself to work with paper and pencil.
"I know what you're doing," said Blair; "you're beginning our story."
"I'm not, but that isn't half a bad idea. Let's start in, Gil. We can plan it and make up names and things——"
"Why can't you really write it?" asked Shelby. "I should think it would be the psychological moment. Isn't it to be all about the storms and other indigenous delights of Labrador?"
"You take that tone and I'll pitch you out into the indigenous delights," threatened Peter. "Come on, Gilbert, let's block out the backbone of the yarn right now."
They set to work, and by dint of much discussing, disagreeing, ballyragging and bulldozing each other, they did make a fair start.
"What's the heroine like?" asked Shelby, beginning to be interested.
"Like Carly Harper," said Blair promptly.
"Not the leastest, littlest mite like Carly Harper," said Peter, his blue eyes hardening with determination.