The West Virginian. [volume] (Fairmont, W. Va.) 1914-1974, 1920-03-13
THE DAILY
SHORT STORY
Paula the Poet
BY DOROTHY polJell As

moodlesg 9 chum that an cratic poet
ever had, was busy preparing a dainty
iena nourishing evening meal.
kaula was a girl OF brilliant fntel.
.ect, wonderful in poetic fancy. but Mt.
seliy and completely. lacking IN the
domestic virtues. She could no more
nave cooked a little meat loaf and bis.
cunts that were seeming the apart.
ments than she could have put out TO
sea irsthe R.34. Her taste in clothes
was simply a wish 70 cover herself de.
Gently and her hair was long and nat.
urai and wound abont her head in the
particular way that II happened to 20,
dais. = $3.50 NY san
5ut Palua could write poetry.
poth possessed all thesartistic tastes
lnat 80 to produce q perfect type OF
experimental poet. Her hair was tar.
nlsned and most becomingly bobbed.
ner orange and black smocks were
poems of batik art and often while en-
tertaining at tea she wore an adorable
chinese mandarin, from which her ut
tie feet peeped out from the wide tfou-
seq like incense burning when Beth
was around. 20 Al
But Beth could cook, make wonder
1ul clothes, entertain with great sue
cess and she was delightful bit Of the
feminine world to have about the
house.
Beth could not, however, have writ
ten a poem any more than she could
nave put together the parts of their
Joint fliv. q
Here's another man person wanting
to meet the poet, Paula called Beth
as the postmah left his wares at the
door. He has been reading your
verse for two years and Is coming
from the middle West Just In the
ilSpe that you Will give him the plea
sure, etc, etc. Beth finished off with
q laugh. "oh--to have some great
western cowboy consumed with pas
sion for me-just once
Palua, too, laughed from her nest Of
brilliant-hued cushions that Beth had
made. but her laugh was trifle impa-
tient. ~, ~
II just can't be bothered meeting all
these perfectly strange people all the
time. You've no idea what muff I
feel listening to their rawlings. have
absolutely nothing TO say to them, and
my poor brain struggles for CONVERSE
tional niceties and i very nearly pass
out in the attempt.
That's what you get for being a
genius" said the unfeeling Beth. 1.-THE
penalty for writing boiling, scorching
love effusicns which you no more feel
than do Is TO have to let all the
strange men In the world come and
gaze into your Ssoulless eyes,
You have all the soul and scorching
emotions for both of u.s." laughed
Paiua 't we each had temperament
and moods, then, hoaey, we couldn't
live together SO happily" She Jump
ed up and Just as Beth was about to
take her hot biscuits from the oven
Paula swept her into an encircling
arm. YOU'RE a little duck" she said
nffectionately, and wish lust for
once you would meet this western cow
boy as Paula.p
When Beth had rescued the biscuits
she turned questioning eyes on Paula.
IF you really mean tit would be
bit Of lark have all the ear
marks OF a poet -nuttiest of nuts.n
So 1t happened that the two girls
exchanged identities, and never were
two more alluring personalities trans
f4sred for the mere sake of jogging
the brain OF q western cowboy.
And the heart of the western cow
boy, who went by the name Of John
Rylance, was most assuredly rampant
when he found two delightful girls
waiting to receive him at tea. The
small apartment was curiously home
like. Rylance felt decidedly at home
even before he was directed by Beth
toward the great cushioned chair in
the sunny window.
Paula had met the big ranchman
with her habitual calm exterior, but
within her brilliant brain there was
an instant desire to write splendid
poem. She effaced herself behind a
.,wall of concentrated thought that left
N8eth free hand to weave, her net
about their visitor.
Rylance realized that his interest
was straying from time to time from
the animated Beth to the strangely
magnetic personality OF Paula. II was
true he had came from the West to
meet the poet who had set his heart
to singing by the mere printed words
OF her Songs in Exile" yet now as
he sat looking into her piquant little
face with its frame OF bobbed hair, he
felt more definitely the lure of the
other girl.
And yet this girl whom he had been
introduced to as Poula Raymond was
the exact duplicate in appearance Of
the type he had expected. There was
the stamp of Greenwich Village on her
and the undoubted charm Of character.
That which was lacking, Rylance
could not define. He knew that while
he talked with her he was constantly
longing to probe the mind Of the quiet
lntrospectiye, apparently .disinterested
girl whom he had met as Beth Good.
win.
And the real Beth's alert senses
caught the vague disappointment in
the westerner's mind. She knew that
his soul and the soul OF Paula the Poet
had found something that had made a
meeting of the physical beings nee.
essary. Itrhad ben the lure OF Panlais
soul that had dragged him all the long
way from the West, and now he was
struggling against vague regret that
he had como. SO
Into the mind of Rylance came a
short verse OF Panla's that had always
more or less puzzled him as TO her ex-
act meaning. The words OF the verse
could be taken as the reader chose, but
somehow Rylance felt keen desire