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Show uu 4 A2TEDIT0RIAL BY 1 FLORENCE DAVIES 1 ERYT1IIXG BUT HAPPIXKSS. Sometimes we think of "the Poor Little Kh h Girl" as a victim of her youth and inexperience. What about tin poor rich woman. who Is old enough to know better0 She has a high powered dark blue enameled motor mo-tor car built especially for her. and lined with French gray from top to floor .1 wonderful silky lining over the softest of ushions. with silver fittings to match She has gowns fit for a princess and slippers that Cinderella might envy ami hats that make her lovely face doubly fair to look upon. She has leisure to" read or go to the newest new-est play or fill up her shining car with a group of admiring friends and spin away out of the smoke and noise Into some Ideal spot, where wonderful food and nature's loveliest pictures are waiting for guests and hostesv.-s At home she has a wonderful suite In the best hotel In the city, where everything Is kept spick-and-span by the maids and her wants are supplied almost before she Is conscious of them She has one might go on indefinite- telling all that she has, through a husband with an apparently apparent-ly bottomless purse But the thing she has not Is Happiness The other day she filled her car with women friends and motored out for a shore dinner Was It the velvet green sward of the blue of the laKC or the smiling sky that waited her enthusiasm'" en-thusiasm'" Was it the pleasure she was giving her guests, or the delectable delec-table taste of the specially cooked dishes she had ordered0 TP he thing thut brought a glow to the poor rb-h woman's cheeks ami a spartcle to her eye was a new recipe for pickles, contributed con-tributed by one woman in the group "I'd give anthlng to keep house again and fuss around In my own kitchen," she tells hfr friends." "But Arthur likes the hotel so much hett- r. Says he Isn't going to have me all tired out planning meals and working over the stove." She means It too. The happiest days she knows are speut In some friend's little home, with a big apron over one of the fine lady frocks. 'Let me help you can your peaches." she begs, or "I'd just love to do that tomato to-mato ketchup. Do let me come." And do you want to know what brought the tears to her eyes at the shore dinner? Everybody else was telling where he daughter was going to school this fall, or w hat Dick or i Sam was going to do as soon as he graduated, or what a sweet little drensi that piee of embroidered crepe made lor little Retty. nd because she hn I no child and knew that none would ever wall for her In the poet's Land Of the I'nborn. she felt the tears brim over on her lashes and was I'ory quid driving home in the big blue car. If only the rich poor woman could knoll 'in other side of the shield! |