He shook hands cordially.
“Come and see my pigs,” he said.
“We wanted to ask you,” we began, as we went down the walk, “something about your books.”
“Let’s look at the pigs first,” he said. “Are you anything of a pig man?”
We are always anxious in our interviews to be all things to all men. 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?”