"'I have just returned from an afternoon stroll,' remarked the novelist. 'This is my invariable custom after my day's work. When do I work? Well, I generally sit down immediately after breakfast, which I have about eight o'clock, and with the exception of an hour for lunch, I write continuously from that time until three or four in the afternoon. Then I go out for my walk.' "'You never work at night, then?' was asked. "'No; it is a bad practice, and one that I rarely indulge in. There was a time when I did so, but my work always showed it. A writer's work at night is almost always morbid. There is no better time to work than during the morning.' "'How much work constitutes a day's labor with you?' "'That varies a great deal. Sometimes I write four or five pages of foolscap, and other days I will write as much as fifteen. I have no average, but do as much as I feel like doing, or have time to do, and then I stop.' "'Do you derive genuine pleasure from your work?' "'Always, for I am absorbed in whatever I am writing. I presume I derived the most pleasure from my "Nature's Serial Story," for it was an out-of-door study, and anything about nature always finds a responsive chord in me. Then, two of the characters of that work portray my father and my mother, and their memory is blessed and sacred to me. All the other characters are imaginary.' "'Are your stories and novels based on facts and real happenings, as a rule?' "'In every case,' replied Mr. Roe. 'I never manufacture a story; I couldn't do it. Of course, I elaborate and idealize, but the actual facts are always drawn from real life. I am always on the alert for these incidents, and when I see one that I think is adapted for a story I make a note of it.' "'Speaking of your correspondence, like that of most authors, I presume it is of a various nature?' "'Yes, indeed,' laughingly replied the novelist. 'It is surprising what letters I sometimes receive, and how difficult it is for some persons to realize that an author's time is valuable. Of course, I am not a stranger to the autograph craze, and of these requests I receive, I think, more than my share. But what is most surprising is the number of manuscripts I receive from young, aspiring authors. I am often asked "to read them, revise them carefully, and express an opinion as to the merit of the contribution." Why, I have frequently been requested to do a whole month's work on a single manuscript. What do I do with these? Well, the best I can. If I have a spare moment, I look over the story or article, and encourage the writer, if possible. But at times the supply is too great for physical endurance.' "'What exercise do you most indulge in, and what particular one do you recommend?'