“Me, too,” said Dick. Chub viewed them scornfully.
“Of course you would,” he replied with deep sarcasm.
“Well, I would,” insisted Roy. “I’d be generous. Now—”
“I guess you’re like the Irishman,” said Chub. “His name was Pat.”
“It always is in a story,” murmured Dick.
“One day his friend Mike met him and said: ‘Pat, they tell me you’re a Socialist.’ ‘I am,’ says Pat. ‘Well, now, tell me, Pat, what is a Socialist?’ ‘A Socialist,’ says Pat, ‘is a feller that divides his property equally. ’Tis like this, do you see: if I had two million dollars I’d give you one million and I’d keep one million myself.’ ‘’Tis a grand idea,’ says Mike. ‘And if you had two farms would you give me one, Pat?’ ‘Sure would I,’ says Pat. ‘’Tis an elegant thing, this Socialism,’ says Mike. ‘But, tell me, Pat, if you had two pigs would you give me one?’ ‘Go ’long, now!’ says Pat. ‘You know I’ve got two pigs!’”
“It’s a funny story,” said Roy, mournfully, “but I miss the application, Chub.”
