"What is divided up?" asked Molly vaguely, rousing herself from a
half-formed plan for Alan's Christmas present.
"Oh, everything,--at least, everything isn't divided," returned
Katharine a little incoherently. "Some of us have so much more fun
out of things than other people do. There's us; and then there's
Bridget and that little pet of Polly's, Dicky what's-his-name. You
know the one I mean. And then, just in our set, there's ever so
much difference. Jessie and I have everything we want, and Jean
has to pinch and scrimp; Jean is as strong as a bear, and Alan
can't do anything at all, without being laid up to pay for it;
Polly wails for a family of young brothers, and Jean has more of
them to take care of than the old woman that lived in a shoe. Now
what's the reason things are so mixed up, I'd like to know."
"I can't see why myself," said Molly, tucking in the robe about
herself and her cousin. "Maybe, if we knew all about it, they
aren't as mixed up as they seem."
"Yes, they are," Katharine insisted. "If they weren't, some people
wouldn't have everything, and some go without, as they do. I don't
suppose there is much of anything in the world I couldn't do, if I
wanted to, and tried hard enough for it; but everybody isn't so.
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