The Lamar register., 1920-05-05
PAULA THE
POET.
BY DOROTHY DOUGLAS.
te fsss. sy Meclors S.~spsper ssndicst

| Paula was curled up on the wide
couch by the window. scratching odd
ments OF inspired thought.
Beth. most understanding, capable,
noodles q chum that an erratic poet
ever had. was busy preparing II dainty
and nourishing evening meal.
Paula was u girl of brilliant intel
lect, wonderful In poetic fancy but ut
terly and completely lacking In the do
nestle virtues. She could no more
have cooked the little meat loaf and
biscuits that were seeming the apart
ment than she could have put out to
sea In the R-34. Her taste IN clothes
was simply wish TO cover herself de-
Gently. and her hair was long and nat
ural and wound about her head in the
particular way that 1t happened to go.
And she wore ordinary boots, not san.
dals.
But Paula could write poetry.
Beth possessed all the artistic tastes
that go to produce a perfect type of
temperamental poet. Her hair was
tarnished and most becomingly bobbed
Her 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 lit
tie feet peeped out from the wide trou-
sers like captive butterflies. There
was always incense burning when Beth
was around.
But Beth could cook, make wonder
full 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
have put together the parts OF their
joint fivver.
Here's another man person want
ing to meet the poet. Paula" called
Beth as the postman 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 hope
that you will give him the pleasure,
etc. etc." Beth finished of with a
laugh. "Oh-to have some great West
ern cowboy consumed with passion for
me-just once"
Paula. too. laughed from her nest of
brilliant-hued cushions that Beth had
tient.
Il Just can't be bothered meeting all
these perfectly strange people all the
time. You've no idea what a nun I
feel listening to their rawlings. l have
absolutely nothing to say TO them. and
my poor brain struggles for conversa-
tional niceties and ! very nearly pass
out In the attempt"
That's what you get for being a
genius" said the unfeelIng Beth. THE
penalty for writing boiling. scorchIng
love effusIons which you no more feel
than l do is to have to let all the
strange men In the world come and
gaze into your soulless eyes"
you have all the soul and scorchlne
emotions for both OF us" laughed
Paula. IF we each had temperament
and moods. then. honey. we couldn't
live together so happily" She jumped
up and just as Beth was about to take
her hot biscuits from the oven Paula
swept her into an encircling arm
You're little duck" she said affec
tionately. "and wish just for once
you would meet this Western cowboy
as Paula.
When Beth had rescued the biscuit.
she turned questioning eyes on Paula.
"If you really mean lit would be
bit OF "A lark. | have all the earmarks
Of a poet-nuttiest OF nuts"
So II happened that the two girl,
exchanged Identities. and never wer,
two more alluring personalities trans
ferred for the mere sake of jogging
the credulity OF u Western cowboy.
And the heart of the Western COW
boy. who went by the name of JohI
Rylance. was most assuredly rampant
when he found two delightful girl.
waiting to receive him at tea. Tn,
small apartment was curiously home
like. Rylance felt decidedly at hom,
even before he was directed by Beti
toward the great cushioned chair ii
the sunny window.
Paula had met the big ranchmar
with her hnbitual calm exterior. Bu
within her brilliant brain there was al
instant desire to write splendid
poem. She effaced herself behind
wall of concentrated thought that lief
Beth a free hand TO weave her ne
about their visitor.
Rylance realized that his interes
| x-In