recollected, was red.

Not being an underling, he was obliged to
make himself into something else, and he
recurred passionately to his old idea of be-
coming a novelist. He settled down in
Nora's basement rooms, went to work on a
battered type-writer, did his own cooking,
and occasionally pawned something to keep
him in food. The environment was calcu-
lated to further impress him with the idea of
his genius.

A certain magazine offered an alluring prize
for a short story, and Tig wrote one, and
rewrote it, making alterations, revisions, an-
notations, and interlineations which would
have reflected credit upon Honoré Balzac
himself. Then he wrought all together, with
splendid brevity and dramatic force, -- Tig's
own words, -- and mailed the same. He was
convinced he would get the prize. He was
just as much convinced of it as Nora Finne-
gan would have been if she had been with
him.

So he went about doing more fiction, tak-
ing no especial care of himself, and wrapt in
rosy dreams, which, not being warm enough
for the weather, permitted him to come down