Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1904-09-24

If there had been two of them it would
have been easy. In that case Miss Kirkland
felt that, with due Difference to the pre-
siding fates she might have tossed cop
per. But when three men. all eligible, want
to marry you, the consultation of the great
American Sphinx, the impenetrable indian
head which adorns the nations smallest
circulating medium will hardly answer.
To be sure she might take the suitors
two at time, and by gradual process oil
eliminate ton find the one that the goddess
of chance elects to favor. But Miss Kirk
land had found copper tossing very I'M
satisfactory method of settling what she
thought was very unsettled frame OF
mind. for the coppers invariably said John
Blair. and John Blair was the least eligible
of the three.
And what was there in John Blair? the
young woman asked herself 1mpatiently:
Just well-bult, clean-shaven bachelor OF
thirty with a fair law practice. and not
the remotest prospect of becoming a MIL
lionaire, for which parsonage she always
felt herself to be predestined.
Seth Rodman, the contrary, was the
wealthiest citizen of South Webster, the
president of its largest bank, and had but
recently finished his third term as mayor
If he was not already millionaire he
would certainly become one in the next few
wears But-and the little conjunction capt.
talized itself in Miss Kirklands mind-he
was a widower with five children. And
what Economically inclined girl of twenty
three could face such prospect with
equanimity?
Then there was Dick Thstlewaite, fresh
from college, enthusiastic, and evidently,
though perhaps too cheerfully, very much
in love. But Dick was so young, and SO
dreadfully pink and white! After all, could
a self-respecting woman marry man
whose complexion was better than her own?
The average girl may smile over the vacil-
lations of Cynthia kirkland and murmur
that pleasing platitude, that If she did not
know which of the three men she loved she
did not love any one of them. But she did
know which man she loved. She belonged
to the large class of women who like to pre-
tend to themselves that they are still way
ering, even while they walk In limp ODE
dience to the decree of fate.
1t was while she was playing in this
comedy of bogus doubt, to herself and
rather uncomfortable audience of two
men, that Ethel Moore came back from
visit to Indianapolis and brought with
her the plans for the Shakespeare Club.
1T was just an ordinary club where
women meet, and talk, and'read papers,
and have rows over the election of Off
GERS. 1t was to contain as many members
there were heroines of Shakespeare's
plays, and each member was to study the
part of one of those fortunate or ILL
starred danes OF romance and give the
club the benefit of her Interpretation of
the character at one of it's weekly meet
ings.
The names of the Shakespeare galaxy
were written on slips of paper and drawn
from the pot pourri jar which Ethel
Moore had impetuously emptied of its
crumbling rose leaves moment before.
And, though there was some dissatisfac-
ton over the fact that the much coveted
role of Juliet went to Miss Moore, Gym
thia Kirkland vas not numbered among
the grumblers, for, by quite unaccount-
able appropriateness, the role of Portia
had fallen to her.
1t Glanced that Cynthia had never seen
THE Merchant of Venice" played. and her
knowledge of the great bard's dramas
was almost entirely confined to those she
had witnessed upon the stage.
Full-fedged member of a Shakespeare
club that she was, she was neither very
literary nor very wise, save in the wis
dom of softly crinkling hair and sweet
up-curling lips, and blue eyes, in which
the myriad sparkles rose and blended
with one another as they do In the mid
die of champagne glass. But with the
reading of the casket scene, in which the
fair Portia is made to select that one of