for writing. Escargot sat there and cleared his throat.
It was now quite late in the afternoon, and Mr. Doubleday had had a secret notion of slipping off for a game of golf before dark, but you would never have known that, he was so polite. Escargot felt at ease immediately, and offered the publisher the bag of peanuts. Mr. Doubleday ate some and listened attentively.
"I have an idea for you," said Escargot.
"That's grand," said Mr. Doubleday. "That's what we need."
Escargot told about the Grape Arbor Tea Room, and about the way the stories had been told. The shrewd questions that Mr. Doubleday asked pleased him very much. He felt that they were both practical wary people and had much in common.
"It sounds like an interesting book," said Mr. Doubleday. "Is any of it written yet? Are any of you good writers?"
"We can get some help from Mr. Mistletoe," said Escargot.
"Don't you get help from anyone," said Mr. Doubleday. "You write it yourselves, in your own way. If it's written the way you tell it,
