When his mail was in readiness he went downstairs to the parlor, taking a pen and bottle of ink with him, and saying to himself, "That pseudonym shall not be written in pencil."
"I am in a state of hopeless indecision," remarked Alice. "I can think of Christian names that please me, and surnames that please me, but when I put them together they don't please me at all."
"Then we will leave it to fate," said Quincy. He tore a sheet of paper into six pieces and passed three, with a book and pencil, to Alice. "Now you write," said he, "three Christian names that please you, and I will write three surnames that please me; then we will put the pieces in my hat, and you will select two and what you select shall be the name."
"That's a capital idea," said Alice, "it is harder to select a name than it was to write the story."
The slips were written, placed in the hat, shaken up, and Alice selected two, which she held up for Quincy to read.
"This is not fair," said Quincy. "I never thought. Both of the slips are mine. We must try again."
"No," said Alice, "it is 'Kismet.' What are the names?" she asked.
"Bruce Douglas, or Douglas Bruce, as you prefer," said Quincy.
"I like Bruce Douglas best," replied Alice.
"I am so glad," said Quincy, "that's the name I should have selected myself."