"Too diversely talented," Graham amplified.
"Yes, that is better," Mrs. Tully nodded. "But from talent to genius
is a far cry, and to save my life, at this late day, I don't know
whether the child ever had a trace of genius in her. She has certainly
not done anything big in any of her chosen things."
"Except to be herself," Graham added.
"Which _is_ the big thing," Mrs. Tully accepted with a smile of
enthusiasm. "She is a splendid, unusual woman, very unspoiled, very
natural. And after all, what does doing things amount to? I'd give
more for one of Paula's madcap escapades--oh, I heard all about
swimming the big stallion--than for all her pictures if every one was
a masterpiece. But she was hard for me to understand at first. Dick
often calls her the girl that never grew up. But gracious, she can put
on the grand air when she needs to. I call her the most mature child I
have ever seen. Dick was the finest thing that ever happened to her.
It was then that she really seemed for the first time to find herself.
It was this way."
|