We looked at the Eminent Novelist with admiration. We realized that like so many of our writers, actors, and even our thinkers, of to-day, he was an open-air man in every sense of the word.
But we shook our heads.
Bulls, we explained, were not a department of research for which we were equipped. What we wanted, we said, was to learn something of his methods of work.
“My methods of work?” he answered, as we turned up the path again. “Well, really, I hardly know that I have any.”
“What is your plan or method,” we asked, getting out our notebook and pencil, “of laying the beginning of a new novel?”
“My usual plan,” said the Novelist, “is to come out here and sit in the stye till I get my characters.”
“Does it take long?” we questioned.
“Not very. I generally find that a quiet half-hour spent among the hogs will give me at least my leading character.”
“And what do you do next?”
“Oh, after that I generally light a pipe and go and sit among the beehives looking for an incident.”