The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1905-11-04
TIE EVENING STORY
What Was In a Name.

/ handily to Randy she loathed it-and,
do what she would. it was Randy
nothing else in everybody's mouth
| Now, since names are entities no less
than people, she had to live down to
Randy, be plump and merry and use
full, instead of languishing as Mauran-
/ dla, lily slender and sad. She WlShed
sometimes that her mother never had
read catalogues-at least not until at
ter her daughter was christened. Then
she reflected that, except for the cata-
! lOgueS, she might have had TO go
| through life as Jerusha, or Jeminla, or
| even TabitIa-her mother having
/ been of the adventurous temperament
that quite scouts familiar, homely ap-
pellations, such as Mary. Martha Jane
and Ellen.
SupericiaIIy it might have appeared
| that Randy's troubles were her oeauX
1t was hard on any girl to find herself
compelled to choose between chances
SO excellent as Johnny Gum and Pet
er Logan. But Randy's heart chose
readily enough, if only its choice had
satisfied her ear. Johnny, TO Whom
/ the treac herOuS heart inclined, meant
going through life as Randy Gum. If
she could but bring herself to take
! Peter, who was enterprisiug enough
/ to think and talk of Texas, she might
/ fit herself to new environment with
/ the stately cognomen Of Mrs. Mauran-
dia Logan.
Therefore the first setting forth was
| clearly accurate. Randy herself never
l would have thought of disputing 1t.
| Names, names alone, had given her the
1 name of coquette, and made half the
women round about call her selnSh
and monopolist. She might take
/ Johnny and leave Peter, they thought,
or vice versa. It was enough to upset
any mother with daughters to see two
/ such excellent husbands going all to
waste.
Johnny and Peter did not grumble
] nv 1ch friends
in the world, and likely to remain So
no matter which of them won. Indeed,
| one of Randy's most potent charms
for them was her camaraderie. She
made an excellent third in whatever
| they undertook. But after three years
| of seduIous courtship they agreed that
| they owed it to the mind of the neigh
| borhood to pin Randy down to some
sort of agreement. So the two lovers
! pr!nked themselves duly, and went to
! her arm in arm, telling her she must
make choice.
i Randy, thus brought to book,
blushed for almost the first time, hung
her head, shut her eyes, and put her
hands tightly behind her. Then, open
ing the eyes with the twinkle scared
out of them by the look on the two
faces, she put out hand something
wavering and uncertain. to Peter. He
took it between both his own, while
Johnny, after a smothered "God bless
you both" walked away.
be as says Master Shakespeare, a
measure. a Scotch jig. and cinque
pace, but Randy found repenting to
dance on the heels of her Wooing. She
had hardly given her word to Peter IT.
revOcably before she was crying inly
for Johnny-Johnny, whom she loved
better than her life. But how say so,
when she had had open chance and
choice? He would be bound to despise
her, no less than Peter; moreover,
even if he took her, it would not be
with whole-hearted faith. 1t would
| be torture to live with him. knowing
he did not trust her-so Randy
laughed through the days and cried
most of the nights that spun them
selves out swiftly toward her wedding
day.
The day dawned at last-as fresh
and bright a morning as any bride
| could desire. Randy had not slept.
She got up a bundle of quivering
nerves, bug somehow she took herself
in hand SO we'll that by the time she
was dressed and ready to start to
church the keenest critic would have
seen nothing amiss.
1t was to be a church wedding. part
ly to please her mother, partly also to
accommodate her enemies. The house
would not have held them comfort
ably. and Randy wanted to give them
the dissatisfaction of seeing how well
she carried herself to the altar, after
all her chODping and changing. John
ny also had nulled himself together.
He was to be best man. The bridal
party was to meet in the church
porch, and go thence to the altar by
separate aisles.
Johnny meant to be the very first
but fate, relenting. delayed him so he
was not only last but late. Thus he
came upon a fine tableau-Randy,
very white and faint her bridal white
all ragged, and stained, leaning heavily
upon Peters shoulder, and hiding her
eyes with her left hand; the right lay
limp and purple across her lap.
There had been almost a fatal acct
dent. The horses drawing the brides
carriage, had run away, and smashed
it against the stone pillar of the
porch entrance. Randy had been
picked up senseless. Luckily Peter
her father was too much shaken to do
more than get his breath. She had
come to quickly enough, spoken just a
. word then fallen back again uncon-
scious.
But when Johnny appeared on the
scene she was so much herself, she
was trying to smile down her pain, and
say: II don't look very nice-but
, hadn't we better get it over Peter
It would be too bad to disappoint
everybody. They ought to see a we'd
: ding-at least-as it turns out there
can't be a funeral"
She got the words out, with a ghost
of her old spirit, but Peter felt her
shudder as she spoke. Peter was al
most as white as she-he had. further
a strange look. Johnny leaned solicit
tously down to him, saying in his ear:
LET me take you both home, old man.
You-you're not fit to make yourselves
a spectacle
Peter did not answer. The strange
| look deepened. Very tenderly he put
Randy in other hands-plenty of kind
? and tender ones were eagerly stretch
ed toward her-then got up, saying:
''Waft a minute honey" He laid his
off out Of earshot.
We've been better than brothers
Johnny" he said. pausing at last I'M
der the shade of a big roadside oak
'sNow you must stand up to me, not
considering yourself at all"
81 will ,, Iohnny answered. erinni1ae