m his face. "Droozle won't live nearly long enough
to get all of that shrinking done. And in the meantime that scribbling
snake is writing me out of house and home!"

"Are you going to let him get away with it?" the girl challenged.

* * * * *

"I don't know whether I am or not," replied the young artist, looking
worried. "I thought I had the problem solved at first. He got so sassy
when we were arguing about him writing classics that I had no hesitation
about applying a pinch of glue to his glittering little extremity. That
put him out of the writing business until he came to terms."

"Well, now. You _were_ enterprising!" she approved.

"It didn't do any good though," Jean grumbled despondently, bowing his
head.

"He wouldn't bargain?" she asked incredulously.

"He didn't have to. He knew right where the cheese grater was."

"Ooh!"

"My sentiments exactly. But I don't know what to do with him now."

"You're all out of ideas?"

"Oh we could sell this house and move down to skid row where the rents
are cheap," he flung out airily, but quite plainly worried sick.

"I've got a much better idea than that," she said cheerily, getting a
pad and pencil from her red handbag. "How about giving Droozle this
ultimatum?" As she wrote, Jean read over her shoulder, "'Suggest you
begin writing fiction pleasing both to you and your master, or we shall
be forced to hand you over to the dog catcher!'"

Jean drew back amazed. "Why, we would do no such thing!"

"I know it, silly. I'm just negotiating."

"No," he grumped, ready to be angry with her. He got up and strode
around the studio. "The dog catcher! We will not lie to that snake!"

Judy dropped the idea. "I've just now thought of another one. Here's an
ultimatum we could give him and mean it, too. No more writing until we
reach an agreement, or we will take away all his writing paper and
reading matter for good!"

"I'd thought of doing that," Jean conceded. "But isn't that a monstrous
way to treat a literary genius?"

"Not at all!" she protested. "By taking on a work that will require more
time than his lifetime, he is defeating himself."

"There's that way of looking at it," agreed the artist. "All right,
Droozle," he called. "You heard us talking and you know we mean it. No
more writing until we reach an agreement--or else!"

Droozle quit writing at once. While the girl and the young artist
watched anxiously, Droozle first wand