know it."

"A--what?" questioned the little girl, dubiously. "I--I don't think I
know what a socialist is. But I know what being SOCIABLE is--and I
like folks that are that. If it's anything like that, I don't mind
being one, a mite. I'd like to be one."

"I don't doubt it, Pollyanna," smiled the man. "But when it comes to
this scheme of yours for the wholesale distribution of wealth--you've
got a problem on your hands that you might have difficulty with."

Pollyanna drew a long sigh.

"I know," she nodded. "That's the way Mrs. Carew talked. She says I
don't understand; that 'twould--er--pauperize her and be
indiscriminate and pernicious, and--Well, it was SOMETHING like that,
anyway," bridled the little girl, aggrievedly, as the man began to
laugh. "And, anyway, I DON'T understand why some folks should have
such a lot, and other folks shouldn't have anything; and I DON'T like
it. And if I ever have a lot I shall just give some of it to folks who
don't have any, even if it does make me pauperized and pernicious,
and--" But Mr. Pendleton was laughing so hard now that Pollyanna,
after a moment's struggle, surrendered and laughed with him.

"Well, anyway," she reiterated, when she had caught her breath, "I
don't understand it, all the same."

"No, dear, I'm afraid you don't," agreed the man, growing suddenly
very grave and tender-eyed; "nor any of the rest of us, for that
matter. But, tell me," he added, after a minute, "who is this Jamie