"Of course," Laurence agreed with a nod of sympathetic knowingness. "Of course, my dear fellow, I shouldn't dream of trespassing. I, though indeed I've no right to compare myself with you, also like to work alone. In fact I consider that a secure solitude provides the ideal setting for dramatic composition. I have a habit--perhaps it comes from preparing my sermons with my eye always upon the spoken rather than upon the written word--I have a habit of declaiming many of my pages aloud to myself. That necessitates my being alone--absolutely alone." "Yes, you see," Edith said, "if you're alone you're not disturbed." John who was still sensitive to Edith's truisms tried to cover her last by incorporating Hilda in the conversation with a "What room do you advise?" "Why not the dining-room? I'll tell Emily to clear away the breakfast things at once." "Clear away?" Laurence repeated. "And they won't be laying for lunch till a quarter-to-one." "Laying for lunch?" Laurence gasped. "My dear Hilda! I don't wish to attribute to my--ah--work an importance which perhaps as a hitherto unacted playwright I have no right to attribute, but I think John at any rate will appreciate my objection to working with--ah--the bread-knife suspended over my head like the proverbial sword of Damocles. No, I'm afraid I must rule out the dining-room as a practicable environment." "And Mama likes to sit in the drawing-room," said Hilda. "In any case," Laurence said, indulgently, "I shouldn't feel at ease in the drawing-room. So I shall not disturb Mama. I had thought of suggesting that the children should be given another room in which to play, but to tell the truth I'm tired of moving furniture about. The fact is I miss my vicarage study: it was my own." "Yes, nobody at the vicarage ever thought of interrupting him, you see," Edith explained. "Well," said John, roused by the necessity of getting Joan started upon her journey to interview Robert de Baudricourt, "there are several empty bedrooms upstairs. One of them could be transformed into a study for Laurence." "That means more arranging of furniture," Laurence objected. "Then there's the garret," said John. "You'd find your bureau up there." Laurence smiled in order to show how well he understood that the suggestion was only playfulness on John's side and how little he minded the good-natured joke. "There is one room which might be made--ah--conducive to good work, though at present it is occupied by a quantity of apples; they, however, could easily be moved." "But I moved them in there from what is now your room," Hilda protested. "It is good for apples to be frequently moved," said Laurence, kindly. "In fact, the oftener they are moved, the better. And this holds good equally for pippins, codlins, and russets. On the other hand it means I shall lose half a day's work, because even if I _could_ make a temporary beginning anywhere else, I should have to superintend the arrangement of the furniture."