That was how father came to know him." "Live in an attic, does he ?" inquired Malcolm.

"That's what all authors do, isn't it?
Put up in attics and sleep on pallets--whatever they are--and eat crusts, don't they?
Jolly life--if you like it! I prefer bucking wheat corners, myself." Mrs.Dunn laughed, and Caroline joined her, though not as heartily.
"How ridiculous you are, Malcolm!" exclaimed his mother.

"Mr.Pearson isn't that kind of an author, I'm sure.

But where does he live, Caroline ?" "Somewhere on West 18th Street, I believe.

He has rooms there, I think." "Oh! Really?
And how is this wonderful novel of his progressing?
When does he expect to favor us with it ?" "I don't know.