e
lifted ship, I had acquired my little puppy snake, Droozle."

"Is a puppy snake like a puppy dog?" she asked, fascinated. "I mean, do
they have their little domestic troubles, such as the calls of nature?"

"Oh, he was thoroughly pocket-broken before I acquired him. But he did
like his little jokes, and I learned to leave him curled up in a
circular ashtray until maturity sobered him."

* * * * *

"Well, I should say! You drew sketches with him, didn't you tell me?"

He nodded. "At first he only had one color of ink--red--and if I
sketched with him all day he would commence to look wretchedly anemic.
He took two days to refill, normally. But I could use him again in only
one day's time provided I didn't mind the top three-fourths of my pen
laying on my arm."

"I hope his weight didn't get tiresome," she commiserated, holding in
her amusement.

"I coped somehow," he answered sturdily. "Later he learned--after I
squeezed him on the liver a few times just to show him how--to switch to
a lovely shade of ochre, which was delightful on pale green or pink
paper. Why, what's the matter, Judy?"

"Go on," she choked. "Go go go!"

He beamed. "I write my letters with him too. Every day I wrote with him,
first in red, and then in ochre to give him a rest. He seemed to love to
write more than to sketch. He would jump into my hand with tail happily
pointed downward as I sat down to my writing desk. And when I later saw
his dark green stripes turning pastel and knew that anemia was imminent,
and started to lay him down for a earned rest, he would stiffen himself
as if to say, 'Oh, come, come! I'm good for half a page yet!'"

"It sounds as though he was a willing worker, but I still can't see why
his malfunction makes our marriage impossible."

"I haven't gotten to his career as a novelist yet. There lies the heart
of the tragedy."

"Please proceed to the heart of the tragedy."

* * * * *

"It all began when I found him arched up one morning, writing by
himself--with difficulty, it is true. His first message to the world
was, '_I hold that the supine viewpoint is seldom downward!_'"

"I don't see how he could stand up on end to write for very long, even
with such a magnificent philosophy to bolster him."

"What a terrible pun," Jean groaned. "He couldn't stand up very long at
first. But I saw he had talent. I gladly learned the skill of holding
him uprig