ut
offering his services as a teacher when she gave him so little
encouragement. He fancied, too, that she did not take much interest in
his work, and knew she did not appreciate his portrait of her, which was
by far the best thing he had ever done.

Her lack of judgment vexed him, for he knew the value of his work, and
every day his fellow-painters trooped in to see it, and were loud in
their praises. It would certainly be the _clou_ of any exhibition in
which it might be placed.

During one sitting Cora ventured to remark that she thought it a pity he
did not intend to make the portrait more complete, and suggested the
addition of various accessories which in her opinion would very much
improve it.

"It's by far the most complete thing I have ever done," he said. "I
sha'n't touch it again," and he flung down his brushes in a fit of
temper.

She looked at him contemptuously, and putting on her hat, left the
studio without another word; and for several weeks he did not see her
again.

Then he met her in the street, and begged her to come and pose for a
head in his big picture, which he had taken up once more. His apologies
were so abject that she consented, but she ceased to be punctual, and he
never could feel quite sure that she would keep her appointments.

Sometimes he would wait a whole afternoon in vain, and one day when she
failed to appear at the promised hour he shut up his office and strolled
down to the Seine. There he caught sight of her with a gay party who
were about to embark on one of the little steamers that ply up and down
the river.

He shook his fist at her from the quay where he stood, and watched her
and her party step into the boat from the pier.

"She thinks little enough of the Lynxville Prize Fund when she wants an
outing," he said to himself, scornfully.

After fretting a little over his wasted afternoon, he forgot all about
her, and set to work with other models. Then he left Paris for the
summer.

* * * * *

A few hours after his return, early in the fall, there came a knock at
his door. He had been admiring Cora's portrait, which to his fresh eye
looked exceptionally good.

Miss Snell, with eyes red and tearful, stood on his door-mat when he
answered the tap.

"Poor dear Cora," she said, had received a notice from the Lynxville
committee that they did not consider her work sufficiently promising to
continue the fund another year.

"She wil