AREVERSIBLESANTA CLAUS

BYMEREDITH NICHOLSON

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BYFLORENCE H. MINARD

BOSTON and NEW YORKHOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY

The Riverside Press, Cambridge

1917

COPYRIGHT, 1917, BY MEREDITH NICHOLSON

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

_Published October 1917_

By Meredeth Nicholson

 A REVERSIBLE SANTA CLAUS. Illustrated. THE PROOF OF THE PUDDING. Illustrated. THE POET. Illustrated. OTHERWISE PHYLLIS. With frontispiece in color. THE PROVINCIAL AMERICAN AND OTHER PAPERS. A HOOSIER CHRONICLE. With illustrations. THE SIEGE OF THE SEVEN SUITORS. With illustrations. 

HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY

BOSTON AND NEW YORK

A Reversible Santa Claus

[Illustration: "DO YOU MIND TELLING ME JUST WHY YOU READ THAT NOTE?"_(Page 78)_]

Illustrations

"DO YOU MIND TELLING ME JUST WHY YOU READ THAT NOTE?" _Frontispiece_

THE HOPPER GRINNED, PROUD OF HIS SUCCESS, WHICH MARY AND HUMPY VIEWED WITH GRUDGING ADMIRATION 44

THE FAINT CLICK OF A LATCH MARKED THE PROWLER'S PROXIMITY TO A HEDGE 116

THE THREE MEN GATHERED ROUND THEM, STARING DULLY 150

_From Drawings by F. Minard_

 * * * * *

[Illustration]

A Reversible Santa Claus

I

Mr. William B. Aikins, _alias_ "Softy" Hubbard, _alias_ Billy The Hopper, paused for breath behind a hedge that bordered a quiet lane and peered outinto the highway at a roadster whose tail light advertised its presence tohis felonious gaze. It was Christmas Eve, and after a day of unseasonablewarmth a slow, drizzling rain was whimsically changing to snow. 

The Hopper was blowing from two hours' hard travel over rough country. Hehad stumbled through woodlands, flattened himself in fence corners toavoid the eyes of curious motorists speeding homeward or flying aboutdistributing Christmas gifts, and he was now bent upon committing himselfto an inter-urban trolley line that would afford comfortabletransportation for the remainder of his journey. Twenty miles, heestimated, still lay between him and his domicile. 

The rain had penetrated his clothing and vigorous exercise had not greatlydiminished the chill in his blood. His heart knocked violently against hisribs and he was dismayed by his shortness of wind. The Hopper was not soyoung as in the days when his agility and genius for effecting a quick"get-away" had earned for him his sobriquet. The last time his Bertillonmeasurements were checked (he was subjected to this humiliatingexperience in Omaha during the Ak-Sar-Ben carnival three years earlier)official note was taken of the fact that The Hopper's hair, long carriedin the records as black, was rapidly whitening. 

At forty-eight a crook--even so resourceful and versatile a member of thefraternity as The Hopper--begins to mistrust himself. For the greater partof his life, when not in durance vile, The Hopper had been in hiding, andthe state or condition of being a fugitive, hunted by keen-eyed agents ofjustice, is not, from all accounts, an enviable one. His latest experienceof involuntary servitude had been under the auspices of the State ofOregon, for a trifling indiscretion in the way of safe-blowing. Havingserved his sentence, he skillfully effaced himself by a year's siesta ona pine-apple plantation in Hawaii. The island climate was not whollypleasing to The Hopper, and when pine-apples palled he took passage fromHonolulu as a stoker, reached San Francisco (not greatly chastened inspirit), and by a series of characteristic hops, skips, and jumps acrossthe continent landed in Maine by way of the Canadian provinces. The Hopperneeded money. He was not without a certain crude philosophy, and it hadbeen his dream to acquire by some brilliant _coup_ a sufficient fortuneupon which to retire and live as a decent, law-abiding citizen for theremainder of his days. This ambition, or at least the means to itsfulfillment, can hardly be defended as praiseworthy, but The Hopper was asingular character and we must take him as we find him. Many prisonchaplains and jail visitors bearing tracts had striven with littlesuccess to implant moral ideals in the mind and soul of The Hopper, but hewas still to be catalogued among the impenitent; and as he moved southwardthrough the Commonwealth of Maine he was so oppressed by his poverty, ascontrasted with the world's abundance, that he lifted forty thousanddollars in a neat bundle from an express car which Providence hadsidetracked, apparently for his personal enrichment, on the upper watersof the Penobscot. Whereupon he began perforce playing his old game ofartful dodging, exercising his best powers as a hopper and skipper. Fortythousand dollars is no inconsiderable sum of money, and the success ofthis master stroke of his career was not to be jeopardized by carelessmoves. By craftily hiding in the big woods and making himself agreeableto isolated lumberjacks who rarely saw newspapers, he arrived in duecourse on Manhattan Island, where with shrewd judgment he avoided thehaunts of his kind while planning a future commensurate with his newdignity as a capitalist. 

He spent a year as a diligent and faithful employee of a garage whichserved a fashionable quarter of the metropolis; then, animated by a worthydesire to continue to lead an honest life, he purchased a chicken farmfifteen miles as the crow flies from Center Church, New Haven, and boldlyopened a bank account in that academic center in his newly adopted name ofCharles S. Stevens, of Happy Hill Farm. Feeling the need of companionship, he married a lady somewhat his junior, a shoplifter of the second class, whom he had known before the vigilance of the metropolitan policenecessitated his removal to the Far West. Mrs. Stevens's inferior talentsas a petty larcenist had led her into many difficulties, and shegratefully availed herself of The Hopper's offer of his heart and hand. 

They had added to their establishment a retired yegg who had lost an eyeby the premature popping of the "soup" (i. E. , nitro-glycerin) poured intothe crevices of a country post-office in Missouri. In offering shelter toMr. James Whitesides, _alias_ "Humpy" Thompson, The Hopper's motives hadnot been wholly unselfish, as Humpy had been entrusted with the herding ofpoultry in several penitentiaries and was familiar with the most advancedscientific thought on chicken culture. 

The roadster was headed toward his home and The Hopper contemplated it inthe deepening dusk with greedy eyes. His labors in the New York garage hadfamiliarized him with automobiles, and while he was not ignorant of thepains and penalties inflicted upon lawless persons who appropriate motorsillegally, he was the victim of an irresistible temptation to jump intothe machine thus left in the highway, drive as near home as he dared, andthen abandon it. The owner of the roadster was presumably eating hisevening meal in peace in the snug little cottage behind the shrubbery, andThe Hopper was aware of no sound reason why he should not seize thevehicle and further widen the distance between himself and asuspicious-looking gentleman he had observed on the New Haven local. 

The Hopper's conscience was not altogether at ease, as he had, thatafternoon, possessed himself of a bill-book that was protruding from thebreast-pocket of a dignified citizen whose strap he had shared in acrowded subway train. Having foresworn crime as a means of livelihood, TheHopper was chagrined that he had suffered himself to be beguiled intostealing by the mere propinquity of a piece of red leather. He was angryat the world as well as himself. People should not go about withbill-books sticking out of their pockets; it was unfair and unjust tothose weak members of the human race who yield readily to temptation. 

He had agreed with Mary when she married him and the chicken farm thatthey would respect the Ten Commandments and all statutory laws, State andFederal, and he was painfully conscious that when he confessed his sin shewould deal severely with him. Even Humpy, now enjoying a peace that he hadrarely known outside the walls of prison, even Humpy would be bitter. Thethought that he was again among the hunted would depress Mary and Humpy, and he knew that their harshness would be intensified because of hisviolation of the unwritten law of the underworld in resorting topurse-lifting, an infringement upon a branch of felony despicable andgreatly inferior in dignity to safe-blowing. 

These reflections spurred The Hopper to action, for the sooner he reachedhome the more quickly he could explain his protracted stay in New York (towhich metropolis he had repaired in the hope of making a better price foreggs with the commission merchants who handled his products), submithimself to Mary's chastisement, and promise to sin no more. By returningon Christmas Eve, of all times, again a fugitive, he knew that he wouldmerit the unsparing condemnation that Mary and Humpy would visit upon him. It was possible, it was even quite likely, that the short, stockygentleman he had seen on the New Haven local was not a "bull"--not reallya detective who had observed the little transaction in the subway; but thevery uncertainty annoyed The Hopper. In his happy and profitable year atHappy Hill Farm he had learned to prize his personal comfort, and he washumiliated to find that he had been frightened into leaving the train atBansford to continue his journey afoot, and merely because a man hadlooked at him a little queerly. 

Any Christmas spirit that had taken root in The Hopper's soul had beendisturbed, not to say seriously threatened with extinction, by theuntoward occurrences of the afternoon. 

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

II

The Hopper waited for a limousine to pass and then crawled out of hishiding-place, jumped into the roadster, and was at once in motion. Heglanced back, fearing that the owner might have heard his departure, andthen, satisfied of his immediate security, negotiated a difficult turn inthe road and settled himself with a feeling of relief to careful butexpeditious flight. It was at this moment, when he had urged the car toits highest speed, that a noise startled him--an amazing little chirrupysound which corresponded to none of the familiar forewarnings of enginetrouble. With his eyes to the front he listened for a repetition of thesound. It rose again--it was like a perplexing cheep and chirrup, changingto a chortle of glee. 

"Goo-goo! Goo-goo-goo!"

The car was skimming a dark stretch of road and a superstitious awe fellupon The Hopper. Murder, he gratefully remembered, had never been amonghis crimes, though he had once winged a too-inquisitive policeman inKansas City. He glanced over his shoulder, but saw no pursuing ghost inthe snowy highway; then, looking down apprehensively, he detected on theseat beside him what appeared to be an animate bundle, and, prompted by alouder "goo-goo, " he put out his hand. His fingers touched something warmand soft and were promptly seized and held by Something. 

The Hopper snatched his hand free of the tentacles of the unknown andshook it violently. The nature of the Something troubled him. He renewedhis experiments, steering with his left hand and exposing the right towhat now seemed to be the grasp of two very small mittened hands. 

"Goo-goo! Goody; teep wunnin'!"

"A kid!" The Hopper gasped. 

That he had eloped with a child was the blackest of the day's calamities. He experienced a strange sinking feeling in the stomach. In moments ofapprehension a crook's thoughts run naturally into periods of penalservitude, and the punishment for kidnaping, The Hopper recalled, wassevere. He stopped the car and inspected his unwelcome fellow passengerby the light of matches. Two big blue eyes stared at him from a hood andtwo mittens were poked into his face. Two small feet, wrapped tightly in ablanket, kicked at him energetically. 

"Detup! Mate um skedaddle!"

Obedient to this command The Hopper made the car skedaddle, butsuperstitious dread settled upon him more heavily. He was satisfied nowthat from the moment he transferred the strap-hanger's bill-book to hisown pocket he had been hoodooed. Only a jinx of the most malevolent typecould have prompted his hurried exit from a train to dodge an imaginary"bull. " Only the blackest of evil spirits could be responsible for thisinvoluntary kidnaping!

"Mate um wun! Mate um 'ippity stip!"

The mittened hands reached for the wheel at this juncture and anunlooked-for "jippity skip" precipitated the young passenger into TheHopper's lap. 

This mishap was attended with the jolliest baby laughter. Gently but withmuch firmness The Hopper restored the youngster to an upright position andsupported him until sure he was able to sustain himself. 

"Ye better set still, little feller, " he admonished. 

The little feller seemed in no wise astonished to find himself abroad witha perfect stranger and his courage and good cheer were not lost upon TheHopper. He wanted to be severe, to vent his rage for the day's calamitiesupon the only human being within range, but in spite of himself he felt noanimosity toward the friendly little bundle of humanity beside him. Still, he had stolen a baby and it was incumbent upon him to free himselfat once of the appalling burden; but a baby is not so easily disposed of. He could not, without seriously imperiling his liberty, return to thecottage. It was the rule of house-breakers, he recalled, to avoid babies. He had heard it said by burglars of wide experience and unquestionedwisdom that babies were the most dangerous of all burglar alarms. Allthings considered, kidnaping and automobile theft were not a happycombination with which to appear before a criminal court. The Hopper wasvexed because the child did not cry; if he had shown a bad disposition TheHopper might have abandoned him; but the youngster was the cheeriest andmost agreeable of traveling companions. Indeed, The Hopper's spirits roseunder his continued "goo-gooing" and chirruping. 

"Nice little Shaver!" he said, patting the child's knees. 

Little Shaver was so pleased by this friendly demonstration that he threwup his arms in an effort to embrace The Hopper. 

"Bil-lee, " he gurgled delightedly. 

The Hopper was so astonished at being addressed in his own lawful name bya strange baby that he barely averted a collision with a passing motortruck. It was unbelievable that the baby really knew his name, but perhapsit was a good omen that he had hit upon it. The Hopper's resentmentagainst the dark fate that seemed to pursue him vanished. Even though hehad stolen a baby, it was a merry, brave little baby who didn't mind atall being run away with! He dismissed the thought of planting the littleshaver at a door, ringing the bell and running away; this was no way totreat a friendly child that had done him no injury, and The Hopper highlyresolved to do the square thing by the youngster even at personalinconvenience and risk. 

The snow was now falling in generous Christmasy flakes, and the high speedthe car had again attained was evidently deeply gratifying to the youngperson, whose reckless tumbling about made it necessary for The Hopper tokeep a hand on him. 

"Steady, little un; steady!" The Hopper kept mumbling. 

His wits were busy trying to devise some means of getting rid of theyoungster without exposing himself to the danger of arrest. By this timesome one was undoubtedly busily engaged in searching for both baby andcar; the police far and near would be notified, and would be on thelookout for a smart roadster containing a stolen child. 

"Merry Christmas!" a boy shouted from a farm gate. 

"M'y Kwismus!" piped Shaver. 

The Hopper decided to run the machine home and there ponder thedisposition of his blithe companion with the care the unusualcircumstances demanded. 

"'Urry up; me's goin' 'ome to me's gwanpa's kwismus t'ee!"

"Right ye be, little un; right ye be!" affirmed The Hopper. 

The youngster was evidently blessed with a sanguine and confiding nature. His reference to his grandfather's Christmas tree impinged sharply uponThe Hopper's conscience. Christmas had never figured very prominently inhis scheme of life. About the only Christmases that he recalled with anypleasure were those that he had spent in prison, and those were markedonly by Christmas dinners varying with the generosity of a series ofwardens. 

But Shaver was entitled to all the joys of Christmas, and The Hopper hadno desire to deprive him of them. 

"Keep a-larfin', Shaver, keep a-larfin', " said the Hopper. "Ole Hop ain'ta-goin' to hurt ye!"

The Hopper, feeling his way cautiously round the fringes of New Haven, arrived presently at Happy Hill Farm, where he ran the car in among thechicken sheds behind the cottage and carefully extinguished the lights. 

"Now, Shaver, out ye come!"

Whereupon Shaver obediently jumped into his arms. 

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

III

The Hopper knocked twice at the back door, waited an instant, and knockedagain. As he completed the signal the door was opened guardedly. A man andwoman surveyed him in hostile silence as he pushed past them, kicked thedoor shut, and deposited the blinking child on the kitchen table. Humpy, the one-eyed, jumped to the windows and jammed the green shades close intothe frames. The woman scowlingly waited for the head of the house toexplain himself, and this, with the perversity of one who knows thedramatic value of suspense, he was in no haste to do. 

"Well, " Mary questioned sharply. "What ye got there, Bill?"

The Hopper was regarding Shaver with a grin of benevolent satisfaction. The youngster had seized a bottle of catsup and was making heroic effortsto raise it to his mouth, and the Hopper was intensely tickled by Shaver'sefforts to swallow the bottle. Mrs. Stevens, _alias_ Weeping Mary, was notamused, and her husband's enjoyment of the child's antics irritated her. 

"Come out with ut, Bill!" she commanded, seizing the bottle. "What ye beendoin'?"

Shaver's big blue eyes expressed surprise and displeasure at beingdeprived of his plaything, but he recovered quickly and reached for aplate with which he began thumping the table. 

"Out with ut, Hop!" snapped Humpy nervously. "Nothin' wuz said aboutkidnapin', an' I don't stand for ut!"

"When I heard the machine comin' in the yard I knowed somethin' was wrongan' I guess it couldn't be no worse, " added Mary, beginning to cry. "Youhadn't no right to do ut, Bill. Hookin' a buzz-buzz an' a kid an' when wewuz playin' the white card! You ought t' 'a' told me, Bill, what ye wentto town fer, an' it bein' Christmas, an' all. "

That he should have chosen for his fall the Christmas season of all timeswas reprehensible, a fact which Mary and Humpy impressed upon him in thestrongest terms. The Hopper was fully aware of the inopportuneness of histransgressions, but not to the point of encouraging his wife to abusehim. 

As he clumsily tried to unfasten Shaver's hood, Mary pushed him aside andwith shaking fingers removed the child's wraps. Shaver's cheeks were rosyfrom his drive through the cold; he was a plump, healthy little shaver andThe Hopper viewed him with intense pride. Mary held the hood and coat tothe light and inspected them with a sophisticated eye. They were ofexcellent quality and workmanship, and she shook her head and sigheddeeply as she placed them carefully on a chair. 

"It ain't on the square, Hop, " protested Humpy, whose lone eye expressedthe most poignant sorrow at The Hopper's derelictions. Humpy was tall andlean, with a thin, many-lined face. He was an ill-favored person at best, and his habit of turning his head constantly as though to compel hissingle eye to perform double service gave one an impression of restlesswatchfulness. 

"Cute little Shaver, ain't 'e? Give Shaver somethin' to eat, Mary. I guessmilk'll be the right ticket considerin' th' size of 'im. How ole you make'im? Not more'n three, I reckon?"

"Two. He ain't more'n two, that kid. "

"A nice little feller; you're a cute un, ain't ye, Shaver?"

Shaver nodded his head solemnly. Having wearied of playing with the platehe gravely inspected the trio; found something amusing in Humpy's bizarrecountenance and laughed merrily. Finding no response to his friendlyovertures he appealed to Mary. 

"Me wants me's paw-widge, " he announced. 

"Porridge, " interpreted Humpy with the air of one whose superior breedingmakes him the proper arbiter of the speech of children of high socialstation. Whereupon Shaver appreciatively poked his forefinger into Humpy'ssurviving optic. 

"I'll see what I got, " muttered Mary. "What ye used t' eatin' for supper, honey?"

The "honey" was a concession, and The Hopper, who was giving Shaver hiswatch to play with, bent a commendatory glance upon his spouse. 

"Go on an' tell us what ye done, " said Mary, doggedly busying herselfabout the stove. 

The Hopper drew a chair to the table to be within reach of Shaver andrelated succinctly his day's adventures. 

"A dip!" moaned Mary as he described the seizure of the purse in thesubway. 

"You hadn't no right to do ut, Hop!" bleated Humpy, who had tipped hischair against the wall and was sucking a cold pipe. And then, professionalcuriosity overmastering his shocked conscience, he added: "What'd shemeasure, Hop?"

The Hopper grinned. 

"Flubbed! Nothin' but papers, " he confessed ruefully. 

Mary and Humpy expressed their indignation and contempt in unequivocalterms, which they repeated after he told of the suspected "bull" whosepresence on the local had so alarmed him. A frank description of hisflight and of his seizure of the roadster only added to their bitterness. 

Humpy rose and paced the floor with the quick, short stride of menhabituated to narrow spaces. The Hopper watched the telltale step sodisagreeably reminiscent of evil times and shrugged his shouldersimpatiently. 

"Set down, Hump; ye make me nervous. I got thinkin' to do. "

"Ye'd better be quick about doin' ut!" Humpy snorted with an oath. 

"Cut the cussin'!" The Hopper admonished sharply. Since his retirement toprivate life he had sought diligently to free his speech of profanity andthieves' slang, as not only unbecoming in a respectable chicken farmer, but likely to arouse suspicions as to his origin and previous condition ofservitude. "Can't ye see Shaver ain't use to ut? Shaver's a little gent;he's a reg'ler little juke; that's wot Shaver is. "

"The more 'way up he is the worse fer us, " whimpered Humpy. "It'skidnapin', that's wot ut is!"

"That's wot it _ain't_, " declared The Hopper, averting a calamity to hiswatch, which Shaver was swinging by its chain. "He was took by accident Itell ye! I'm goin' to take Shaver back to his ma--ain't I, Shaver?"

"Take 'im back!" echoed Mary. 

Humpy crumpled up in his chair at this new evidence of The Hopper'sinsanity. 

"I'm goin' to make a Chris'mas present o' Shaver to his ma, " reaffirmedThe Hopper, pinching the nearer ruddy cheek of the merry, contentedguest. 

Shaver kicked The Hopper in the stomach and emitted a chortle expressiveof unshakable confidence in The Hopper's ability to restore him to hislawful owners. This confidence was not, however, manifested toward Mary, who had prepared with care the only cereal her pantry afforded, and nowapproached Shaver, bowl and spoon in hand. Shaver, taken by surprise, inspected his supper with disdain and spurned it with a vigor that sentthe spoon rattling across the floor. 

"Me wants me's paw-widge bowl! Me wants me's _own_ paw-widge bowl!" hescreamed. 

Mary expostulated; Humpy offered advice as to the best manner of dealingwith the refractory Shaver, who gave further expression to his resentmentby throwing The Hopper's watch with violence against the wall. That thetable-service of The Hopper's establishment was not to Shaver's liking wasmanifested in repeated rejections of the plain white bowl in which Maryoffered the porridge. He demanded his very own porridge bowl with theincreasing vehemence of one who is willing to starve rather than accept sopalpable a substitute. He threw himself back on the table and lay therekicking and crying. Other needs now occurred to Shaver: he wanted hispapa; he wanted his mamma; he wanted to go to his gwan'pa's. He clamoredfor Santa Claus and numerous Christmas trees which, it seemed, had beenpromised him at the houses of his kinsfolk. It was amazing and bewilderingthat the heart of one so young could desire so many things that were notimmediately attainable. He had begun to suspect that he was amongstrangers who were not of his way of life, and this was fraught with thegravest danger. 

"They'll hear 'im hollerin' in China, " wailed the pessimistic Humpy, running about the room and examining the fastenings of doors and windows. "Folks goin' along the road'll hear 'im, an' it's terms fer the wholebunch!"

The Hopper began pacing the floor with Shaver, while Humpy and Marydenounced the child for unreasonableness and lack of discipline, notoverlooking the stupidity and criminal carelessness of The Hopper inprojecting so lawless a youngster into their domestic circle. 

"Twenty years, that's wot ut is!" mourned Humpy. 

"Ye kin get the chair fer kidnapin', " Mary added dolefully. "Ye gotta get'im out o' here, Bill. "

Pleasant predictions of a long prison term with capital punishment as thehappy alternative failed to disturb The Hopper. To their surprise andsomewhat to their shame he won the Shaver to a tractable humor. There wasnothing in The Hopper's known past to justify any expectation that hecould quiet a crying baby, and yet Shaver with a child's unerring instinctrealized that The Hopper meant to be kind. He patted The Hopper's facewith one fat little paw, chokingly declaring that he was hungry. 

'"Course Shaver's hungry; an' Shaver's goin' to eat nice porridge AuntMary made fer 'im. Shaver's goin' to have 'is own porridge bowlto-morry--yes, sir-ee, oo is, little Shaver!"

Restored to the table, Shaver opened his mouth in obedience to TheHopper's patient pleading and swallowed a spoonful of the mush, Humpyholding the bowl out of sight in tactful deference to the child's delicateæsthetic sensibilities. A tumbler of milk was sipped with grateful gasps. 

[Illustration: THE HOPPER GRINNED, PROUD OF HIS SUCCESS, WHICH MARY ANDHUMPY VIEWED WITH GRUDGING ADMIRATION]

The Hopper grinned, proud of his success, while Mary and Humpy viewed hisefforts with somewhat grudging admiration, and waited patiently until TheHopper took the wholly surfeited Shaver in his arms and began pacing thefloor, humming softly. In normal circumstances The Hopper was not musical, and Humpy and Mary exchanged looks which, when interpreted, pointed tonothing less than a belief that the owner of Happy Hill Farm was bereft ofhis senses. There was some question as to whether Shaver should beundressed. Mary discouraged the idea and Humpy took a like view. 

"Ye gotta chuck 'im quick; that's what ye gotta do, " said Mary hoarsely. "We don't want 'im sleepin' here. "

Whereupon The Hopper demonstrated his entire independence by carrying theShaver to Humpy's bed and partially undressing him. While this was inprogress, Shaver suddenly opened his eyes wide and raising one foot untilit approximated the perpendicular, reached for it with his chubby hands. 

"Sant' Claus comin'; m'y Kwismus!"

"Jes' listen to Shaver!" chuckled The Hopper. "'Course Santy is comin, 'an' we're goin' to hang up Shaver's stockin', ain't we, Shaver?"

He pinned both stockings to the foot-board of Humpy's bed. By the timethis was accomplished under the hostile eyes of Mary and Humpy, Shaverslept the sleep of the innocent. 

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

IV

They watched the child in silence for a few minutes and then Mary detacheda gold locket from his neck and bore it to the kitchen for examination. 

"Ye gotta move quick, Hop, " Humpy urged. "The white card's what we wuz allgoin' to play. We wuz fixed nice here, an' things goin' easy; an' the yardfull o' br'ilers. I don't want to do no more time. I'm an ole man, Hop. "

"Cut ut!" ordered The Hopper, taking the locket from Mary and weighing itcritically in his hand. They bent over him as he scrutinized the face onwhich was inscribed:--

 _Roger Livingston Talbot_ _June 13, 1913_

"Lemme see; he's two an' a harf. Ye purty nigh guessed 'im right, Mary. "

The sight of the gold trinket, the probability that the Shaver belonged toa family of wealth, proved disturbing to Humpy's late protestations ofvirtue. 

"They'd be a heap o' kale in ut, Hop. His folks is rich, I reckon. Ef wewuzn't playin' the white card--"

Ignoring this shocking evidence of Humpy's moral instability, The Hopperbecame lost in reverie, meditatively drawing at his pipe. 

"We ain't never goin' to quit playin' ut square, " he announced, to Mary'smanifest relief. "I hadn't ought t' 'a' done th' dippin'. It were amistake. My ole head wuzn't workin' right er I wouldn't 'a' slipped. Butye needn't jump on me no more. "

"Wot ye goin' to do with that kid? Ye tell me that!" demanded Mary, unwilling too readily to accept The Hopper's repentance at face value. 

"I'm goin' to take 'im to 'is folks, that's wot I'm goin' to do with 'im, "announced The Hopper. 

"Yer crazy--yer plum' crazy!" cried Humpy, slapping his knees excitedly. "Ye kin take 'im to an orphant asylum an' tell um ye found 'im in thatmachine ye lifted. And mebbe ye'll git by with ut an' mebbe ye won't, butye gotta keep me out of ut!"

"I found the machine in th' road, right here by th' house; an' th' kidwas in ut all by hisself. An' bein' humin an' respectible I brought 'im into keep 'im from freezin' t' death, " said The Hopper, as though repeatinglines he was committing to memory. "They ain't nobody can say as I didn't. Ef I git pinched, that's my spiel to th' cops. It ain't kidnapin'; it'slife-savin', that's wot ut is! I'm a-goin' back an' have a look at thatplace where I got 'im. Kind o' queer they left the kid out there in thebuzz-wagon; _mighty_ queer, now's I think of ut. Little house back fromthe road; lots o' trees an' bushes in front. Didn't seem to be no lights. He keeps talkin' about Chris'mas at his grandpa's. Folks must 'a' beengoin' to take th' kid somewheres fer Chris'mas. I guess it'll throw askeer into 'em to find him up an' gone. "

"They's rich, an' all the big bulls'll be lookin' fer 'im; ye'd better'phone the New Haven cops ye've picked 'im up. Then they'll come out, an'yer spiel about findin' 'im'll sound easy an' sensible like. "

The Hopper, puffing his pipe philosophically, paid no heed to Humpy'ssuggestion even when supported warmly by Mary. 

"I gotta find some way o' puttin' th' kid back without seein' no cops. I'll jes' take a sneak back an' have a look at th' place, " said TheHopper. "I ain't goin' to turn Shaver over to no cops. Ye can't take nochances with 'em. They don't know nothin' about us bein' here, but theyain't fools, an' I ain't goin' to give none o' 'em a squint at me!"

He defended his plan against a joint attack by Mary and Humpy, who saw init only further proof of his tottering reason. He was obliged to tellthem in harsh terms to be quiet, and he added to their rage by thedeliberation with which he made his preparations to leave. 

He opened the door of a clock and drew out a revolver which he examinedcarefully and thrust into his pocket. Mary groaned; Humpy beat the air inimpotent despair. The Hopper possessed himself also of a jimmy and anelectric lamp. The latter he flashed upon the face of the sleeping Shaver, who turned restlessly for a moment and then lay still again. He smoothedthe coverlet over the tiny form, while Mary and Humpy huddled in thedoorway. Mary wept; Humpy was awed into silence by his old friend'sperversity. For years he had admired The Hopper's cleverness, his geniusfor extricating himself from difficulties; he was deeply shaken to thinkthat one who had stood so high in one of the most exacting of professionsshould have fallen so low. As The Hopper imperturbably buttoned his coatand walked toward the door, Humpy set his back against it in a lastattempt to save his friend from his own foolhardiness. 

"Ef anybody turns up here an' asks for th' kid, ye kin tell 'em wot Isaid. We finds 'im in th' road right here by the farm when we're doin' th'night chores an' takes 'im in t' keep 'im from freezin'. Ye'll have th'machine an' kid here to show 'em. An' as fer me, I'm off lookin' fer hisfolks. "

Mary buried her face in her apron and wept despairingly. The Hopper, noting for the first time that Humpy was guarding the door, roughly pushedhim aside and stood for a moment with his hand on the knob. 

"They's things wot is, " he remarked with a last attempt to justify hiscourse, "an' things wot ain't. I reckon I'll take a peek at that place an'see wot's th' best way t' shake th' kid. Ye can't jes' run up to a housein a machine with his folks all settin' round cryin' an' cops askin'questions. Ye got to do some plannin' an' thinkin'. I'm goin' t' clean utall up before daylight, an' ye needn't worry none about ut. Hop ain'tworryin'; jes' leave ut t' Hop!"

There was no alternative but to leave it to Hop, and they stood mute as hewent out and softly closed the door. 

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

V

The snow had ceased and the stars shone brightly on a white world as TheHopper made his way by various trolley lines to the house from which hehad snatched Shaver. On a New Haven car he debated the prospects of moresnow with a policeman who seemed oblivious to the fact that a child hadbeen stolen--shamelessly carried off by a man with a long police record. Merry Christmas passed from lip to lip as if all creation were attuned tothe note of love and peace, and crime were an undreamed of thing. 

For two years The Hopper had led an exemplary life and he was keenly alivenow to the joy of adventure. His lapses of the day were unfortunate; hethought of them with regret and misgivings, but he was zestful forwhatever the unknown held in store for him. Abroad again with a pistol inhis pocket, he was a lawless being, but with the difference that he wasintent now upon making restitution, though in such manner as would givehim something akin to the old thrill that he experienced when he enjoyedthe reputation of being one of the most skillful yeggs in the country. Thesuccessful thief is of necessity an imaginative person; he must be able tovisualize the unseen and to deal with a thousand hidden contingencies. Atbest the chances are against him; with all his ingenuity the broad, heavyhand of the law is likely at any moment to close upon him from someunexpected quarter. The Hopper knew this, and knew, too, that in yieldingto the exhilaration of the hour he was likely to come to grief. Justicehas a long memory, and if he again made himself the object of policescrutiny that little forty-thousand dollar affair in Maine might still befixed upon him. 

When he reached the house from whose gate he had removed the roadster withShaver attached, he studied it with the eye of an experienced strategist. No gleam anywhere published the presence of frantic parents bewailing theloss of a baby. The cottage lay snugly behind its barrier of elms andshrubbery as though its young heir had not vanished into the void. TheHopper was a deliberating being and he gave careful weight to thesecircumstances as he crept round the walk, in which the snow layundisturbed, and investigated the rear of the premises. The lattice doorof the summer kitchen opened readily, and, after satisfying himself thatno one was stirring in the lower part of the house, he pried up the sashof a window and stepped in. The larder was well stocked, as though inpreparation for a Christmas feast, and he passed on to the dining-room, whose appointments spoke for good taste and a degree of prosperity in thehouseholder. 

Cautious flashes of his lamp disclosed on the table a hamper, in whichwere packed a silver cup, plate, and bowl which at once awoke the Hopper'sinterest. Here indubitably was proof that this was the home of Shaver, nowsleeping sweetly in Humpy's bed, and this was the porridge bowl for whichShaver's soul had yearned. If Shaver did not belong to the house, he hadat least been a visitor there, and it struck The Hopper as a reasonableassumption that Shaver had been deposited in the roadster while his lawfulguardians returned to the cottage for the hamper preparatory to anexcursion of some sort. But The Hopper groped in the dark for anexplanation of the calmness with which the householders accepted the lossof the child. It was not in human nature for the parents of a youngster sohandsome and in every way so delightful as Shaver to permit him to bestolen from under their very noses without making an outcry. The Hopperexamined the silver pieces and found them engraved with the name borne bythe locket. He crept through a living-room and came to a Christmastree--the smallest of Christmas trees. Beside it lay a number of packagesdesigned clearly for none other than young Roger Livingston Talbot. 

Housebreaking is a very different business from the forcible entry ofcountry post-offices, and The Hopper was nervous. This particular houseseemed utterly deserted. He stole upstairs and found doors open and adisorder indicative of the occupants' hasty departure. His attention wasarrested by a small room finished in white, with a white enameled bed, andother furniture to match. A generous litter of toys was the last proofneeded to establish the house as Shaver's true domicile. Indeed, there wasevery indication that Shaver was the central figure of this home of whosecharm and atmosphere The Hopper was vaguely sensible. A frieze of dancingchildren and watercolor sketches of Shaver's head, dabbed here and therein the most unlooked-for places, hinted at an artistic household. Thisimpression was strengthened when The Hopper, bewildered and baffled, returned to the lower floor and found a studio opening off the livingroom. The Hopper had never visited a studio before, and satisfied now thathe was the sole occupant of the house, he passed passed about shooting hislight upon unfinished canvases, pausing finally before an easel supportinga portrait of Shaver--newly finished, he discovered, by poking his fingerinto the wet paint. Something fell to the floor and he picked up a largesheet of drawing paper on which this message was written in charcoal:--

 _Six-thirty. _ _Dear Sweetheart:_--

 This is a fine trick you have played on me, you dear girl! I've been expecting you back all afternoon. At six I decided that you were going to spend the night with your infuriated parent and thought I'd try my luck with mine! I put Billie into the roadster and, leaving him there, ran over to the Flemings's to say Merry Christmas and tell 'em we were off for the night. They kept me just a minute to look at those new Jap prints Jim's so crazy about, and while I was gone you came along and skipped with Billie and the car! I suppose this means that you've been making headway with your dad and want to try the effect of Billie's blandishments. Good luck! But you might have stopped long enough to tell me about it! How fine it would be if everything could be straightened out for Christmas! Do you remember the first time I kissed you--it was on Christmas Eve four years ago at the Billings's dance! I'm just trolleying out to father's to see what an evening session will do. I'll be back early in the morning. 

 Love always, ROGER. 

Billie was undoubtedly Shaver's nickname. This delighted The Hopper. Thatthey should possess the same name appeared to create a strong bond ofcomradeship. The writer of the note was presumably the child's father andthe "Dear Sweetheart" the youngster's mother. The Hopper was not reassuredby these disclosures. The return of Shaver to his parents was far frombeing the pleasant little Christmas Eve adventure he had imagined. He hadonly the lowest opinion of a father who would, on a winter evening, carelessly leave his baby in a motor-car while he looked at pictures, andwho, finding both motor and baby gone, would take it for granted that thebaby's mother had run off with them. But these people were artists, andartists, The Hopper had heard, were a queer breed, sadly lacking incommon sense. He tore the note into strips which he stuffed into hispocket. 

Depressed by the impenetrable wall of mystery along which he was groping, he returned to the living-room, raised one of the windows and unbolted thefront door to make sure of an exit in case these strange, foolish Talbotsshould unexpectedly return. The shades were up and he shielded his lightcarefully with his cap as he passed rapidly about the room. It began tolook very much as though Shaver would spend Christmas at Happy HillFarm--a possibility that had not figured in The Hopper's calculations. 

Flashing his lamp for a last survey a letter propped against a lamp on thetable arrested his eye. He dropped to the floor and crawled into a cornerwhere he turned his light upon the note and read, not without difficulty, the following:--

 _Seven o'clock. _ _Dear Roger:--_

 I've just got back from father's where I spent the last three hours talking over our troubles. I didn't tell you I was going, knowing you would think it foolish, but it seemed best, dear, and I hope you'll forgive me. And now I find that you've gone off with Billie, and I'm guessing that you've gone to _your_ father's to see what you can do. I'm taking the trolley into New Haven to ask Mamie Palmer about that cook she thought we might get, and if possible I'll bring the girl home with me. Don't trouble about me, as I'll be perfectly safe, and, as you know, I rather enjoy prowling around at night. You'll certainly get back before I do, but if I'm not here don't be alarmed. 

 We are so happy in each other, dear, and if only we could get our foolish fathers to stop hating each other, how beautiful everything would be! And we could all have such a merry, merry Christmas!

 MURIEL. 

The Hopper's acquaintance with the epistolary art was the slightest, buteven to a mind unfamiliar with this branch of literature it was plain thatShaver's parents were involved in some difficulty that was attributable, not to any lessening of affection between them, but to a row of some sortbetween their respective fathers. Muriel, running into the house to writeher note, had failed to see Roger's letter in the studio, and this wasvery fortunate for The Hopper; but Muriel might return at any moment, andit would add nothing to the plausibility of the story he meant to tell ifhe were found in the house. 

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

VI

Anxious and dejected at the increasing difficulties that confronted him, he was moving toward the door when a light, buoyant step sounded on theveranda. In a moment the living-room lights were switched on from theentry and a woman called out sharply:--

"Stop right where you are or I'll shoot!"

The authoritative voice of the speaker, the quickness with which she hadgrasped the situation and leveled her revolver, brought The Hopper to anabrupt halt in the middle of the room, where he fell with a discordantcrash across the keyboard of a grand piano. He turned, cowering, toconfront a tall, young woman in a long ulster who advanced toward himslowly, but with every mark of determination upon her face. The Hopperstared beyond the gun, held in a very steady hand, into a pair of fearlessdark eyes. In all his experiences he had never been cornered by a woman, and he stood gaping at his captor in astonishment. She was a very prettyyoung woman, with cheeks that still had the curve of youth, but with achin that spoke for much firmness of character. A fur toque perched alittle to one side gave her a boyish air. 

This undoubtedly was Shaver's mother who had caught him prowling in herhouse, and all The Hopper's plans for explaining her son's disappearanceand returning him in a manner to win praise and gratitude went glimmering. There was nothing in the appearance of this Muriel to encourage a hopethat she was either embarrassed or alarmed by his presence. He had beencaptured many times, but the trick had never been turned by any one socool as this young woman. She seemed to be pondering with the greatestcalmness what disposition she should make of him. In the intentness of herthought the revolver wavered for an instant, and The Hopper, withouttaking his eyes from her, made a cat-like spring that brought him to thewindow he had raised against just such an emergency. 

"None of that!" she cried, walking slowly toward him without lowering thepistol. "If you attempt to jump from that window I'll shoot! But it'scold in here and you may lower it. "

The Hopper, weighing the chances, decided that the odds were heavilyagainst escape, and lowered the window. 

"Now, " said Muriel, "step into that corner and keep your hands up where Ican watch them. "

The Hopper obeyed her instructions strictly. There was a telephone on thetable near her and he expected her to summon help; but to his surprise shecalmly seated herself, resting her right elbow on the arm of the chair, her head slightly tilted to one side, as she inspected him with greaterattention along the blueblack barrel of her automatic. Unless he made adash for liberty this extraordinary woman would, at her leisure, turn himover to the police as a housebreaker and his peaceful life as a chickenfarmer would be at an end. Her prolonged silence troubled The Hopper. Hehad not been more nervous when waiting for the report of the juries whichat times had passed upon his conduct, or for judges to fix his term ofimprisonment. 

"Yes'm, " he muttered, with a view to ending a silence that had becomeintolerable. 

Her eyes danced to the accompaniment of her thoughts, but in no way didshe betray the slightest perturbation. 

"I ain't done nothin'; hones' to God, I ain't!" he protested brokenly. 

"I saw you through the window when you entered this room and I waswatching while you read that note, " said his captor. "I thought it funnythat you should do that instead of packing up the silver. Do you mindtelling me just why you read that note?"

"Well, miss, I jes' thought it kind o' funny there wuzn't nobody round an'the letter was layin' there all open, an' I didn't see no harm inlookin'. "

"It was awfully clever of you to crawl into the corner so nobody could seeyour light from the windows, " she said with a tinge of admiration. "Isuppose you thought you might find out how long the people of the housewere likely to be gone and how much time you could spend here. Was thatit?"

"I reckon ut wuz some thin' like that, " he agreed. 

This was received with the noncommittal "Um" of a person whose thoughtsare elsewhere. Then, as though she were eliciting from an artist or man ofletters a frank opinion as to his own ideas of his attainments andprofessional standing, she asked, with a meditative air that puzzled himas much as her question:--

"Just how good a burglar are you? Can you do a job neatly and safely?"

The Hopper, staggered by her inquiry and overcome by modesty, shrugged hisshoulders and twisted about uncomfortably. 

"I reckon as how you've pinched me I ain't much good, " he replied, and wasrewarded with a smile followed by a light little laugh. He was beginningto feel pleased that she manifested no fear of him. In fact, he haddecided that Shaver's mother was the most remarkable woman he had everencountered, and by all odds the handsomest. He began to take heart. Perhaps after all he might hit upon some way of restoring Shaver to hisproper place in the house of Talbot without making himself liable to along term for kidnaping. 

"If you're really a successful burglar--one who doesn't just poke aboundin empty houses as you were doing here, but clever and brave enough tobreak into houses where people are living and steal things without makinga mess of it; and if you can play fair about it--then I think--Ithink--maybe--we can come to terms!"

"Yes'm!" faltered The Hopper, beginning to wonder if Mary and Humpy hadbeen right in saying that he had lost his mind. He was so astonished thathis arms wavered, but she was instantly on her feet and the littleautomatic was again on a level with his eyes. 

"Excuse me, miss, I didn't mean to drop 'em. I weren't goin' to donothin'. Hones' I wuzn't!" he pleaded with real contrition. "It jes'seemed kind o' funny what ye said. "

He grinned sheepishly. If she knew that her Billie, _alias_ Shaver, wasnot with her husband at his father's house, she would not be dallying inthis fashion. And if the young father, who painted pictures, and leftnotes in his studio in a blind faith that his wife would find them, --ifthat trusting soul knew that Billie was asleep in a house all of whoseinmates had done penance behind prison bars, he would very quickly becomea man of action. The Hopper had never heard of such careless parenthood!These people were children! His heart warmed to them in pity andadmiration, as it had to little Billie. 

"I forgot to ask you whether you are armed, " she remarked, with just asmuch composure as though she were asking him whether he took two lumps ofsugar in his tea; and then she added, "I suppose I ought to have asked youthat in the first place. "

"I gotta gun in my coat--right side, " he confessed. "An' that's all Igot, " he added, batting his eyes under the spell of her bewildering smile. 

With her left hand she cautiously extracted his revolver and backed awaywith it to the table. 

"If you'd lied to me I should have killed you; do you understand?"

"Yes'm, " murmured The Hopper meekly. 

She had spoken as though homicide were a common incident of her life, buta gleam of humor in the eyes she was watching vigilantly abated herseverity. 

"You may sit down--there, please!"

She pointed to a much bepillowed davenport and The Hopper sank down on it, still with his hands up. To his deepening mystification she backed to thewindows and lowered the shades, and this done she sat down with the tablebetween them, remarking, --

"You may put your hands down now, Mr. ----?"

He hesitated, decided that it was unwise to give any of his names; andrespecting his scruples she said with great magnanimity:--

"Of course you wouldn't want to tell me your name, so don't trouble aboutthat. "

She sat, wholly tranquil, her arms upon the table, both hands caressingthe small automatic, while his own revolver, of different pattern andlarger caliber, lay close by. His status was now established as that of agentleman making a social call upon a lady who, in the pleasantest mannerimaginable and yet with undeniable resoluteness, kept a deadly weaponpointed in the general direction of his person. 

A clock on the mantel struck eleven with a low, silvery note. Murielwaited for the last stroke and then spoke crisply and directly. 

"We were speaking of that letter I left lying here on the table. Youdidn't understand it, of course; you couldn't--not really. So I willexplain it to you. My husband and I married against our fathers' wishes;both of them were opposed to it. "

She waited for this to sink into his perturbed consciousness. The Hopperfrowned and leaned forward to express his sympathetic interest in thisconfidential disclosure. 

"My father, " she resumed, "is just as stupid as my father-in-law and theyhave both continued to make us just as uncomfortable as possible. Thecause of the trouble is ridiculous. There's nothing against my husband orme, you understand; it's simply a bitter jealousy between the two men dueto the fact that they are rival collectors. "

The Hopper stared blankly. The only collectors with whom he had enjoyedany acquaintance were persons who presented bills for payment. 

"They are collectors, " Muriel hastened to explain, "of ceramics--preciousporcelains and that sort of thing. "

"Yes'm, " assented The Hopper, who hadn't the faintest notion of what shemeant. 

"For years, whenever there have been important sales of these things, which men fight for and are willing to die for--whenever there has beensomething specially fine in the market, my father-in-law--he's Mr. Talbot--and Mr. Wilton--he's my father--have bid for them. There areauctions, you know, and people come from all over the world looking for achance to buy the rarest pieces. They've explored China and Japan huntingfor prizes and they are experts--men of rare taste and judgment--what youcall connoisseurs. "

The Hopper nodded gravely at the unfamiliar word, convinced that not onlywere Muriel and her husband quite insane, but that they had inherited theinfirmity. 

"The trouble has been, " Muriel continued, "that Mr. Talbot and my fatherboth like the same kind of thing; and when one has got something the otherwanted, of course it has added to the ill-feeling. This has been going onfor years and recently they have grown more bitter. When Roger and I ranoff and got married, that didn't help matters any; but just within a fewdays something has happened to make things much worse than ever. "

The Hopper's complete absorption in this novel recital was so manifestthat she put down the revolver with which she had been idling and foldedher hands. 

"Thank ye, miss, " mumbled The Hopper. 

"Only last week, " Muriel continued, "my father-in-law bought one of thosepottery treasures--a plum-blossom vase made in China hundreds of years agoand very, very valuable. It belonged to a Philadelphia collector who diednot long ago and Mr. Talbot bought it from the executor of the estate, whohappened to be an old friend of his. Father was very angry, for he hadbeen led to believe that this vase was going to be offered at auction andhe'd have a chance to bid on it. And just before that father had got holdof a jar--a perfectly wonderful piece of red Lang-Yao--that collectorseverywhere have coveted for years. This made Mr. Talbot furious at father. My husband is at his father's now trying to make him see the folly of allthis, and I visited _my_ father to-day to try to persuade him to stopbeing so foolish. You see I wanted us all to be happy for Christmas! Ofcourse, Christmas ought to be a time of gladness for everybody. Evenpeople in your--er--profession must feel that Christmas is one day in theyear when all hard feelings should be forgotten and everybody should tryto make others happy. "

"I guess yer right, miss. Ut sure seems foolish fer folks t' git mad aboutjugs like you says. Wuz they empty, miss?"

"Empty!" repeated Muriel wonderingly, not understanding at once that hervisitor was unaware that the "jugs" men fought over were valued as arttreasures and not for their possible contents. Then she laughed merrily, as only the mother of Shaver could laugh. 

"Oh! Of course they're _empty!_ That does seem to make it sillier, doesn't it? But they're like famous pictures, you know, or any beautifulwork of art that only happens occasionally. Perhaps it seems odd to youthat men can be so crazy about such things, but I suppose sometimes youhave wanted things very, very much, and--oh!"

She paused, plainly confused by her tactlessness in suggesting to a memberof his profession the extremities to which one may be led by covetousness. 

"Yes, miss, " he remarked hastily; and he rubbed his nose with the back ofhis hand, and grinned indulgently as he realized the cause of herembarrassment. It crossed his mind that she might be playing a trick ofsome kind; that her story, which seemed to him wholly fantastic and not atall like a chronicle of the acts of veritable human beings, was merely adevice for detaining him until help arrived. But he dismissed thisimmediately as unworthy of one so pleasing, so beautiful, so perfectlyqualified to be the mother of Shaver!

"Well, just before luncheon, without telling my husband where I was going, I ran away to papa's, hoping to persuade him to end this silly feud. Ispent the afternoon there and he was very unreasonable. He feels that Mr. Talbot wasn't fair about that Philadelphia purchase, and I gave it up andcame home. I got here a little after dark and found my husband had takenBillie--that's our little boy--and gone. I knew, of course, that he hadgone to _his_ father's hoping to bring him round, for both our fathers aresimply crazy about Billie. But you see I never go to Mr. Talbot's and myhusband never goes--Dear me!" she broke off suddenly. "I suppose I oughtto telephone and see if Billie is all right. "

The Hopper, greatly alarmed, thrust his head forward as she pondered this. If she telephoned to her father-in-law's to ask about Billie, the jigwould be up! He drew his hand across his face and fell back with relief asshe went on, a little absently:--

"Mr. Talbot hates telephoning, and it might be that my husband is justgetting him to the point of making concessions, and I shouldn't want tointerrupt. It's so late now that of course Roger and Billie will spend thenight there. And Billie and Christmas ought to be a combination that wouldsoften the hardest heart! You ought to see--you just ought to see Billie!He's the cunningest, dearest baby in the world!"

The Hopper sat pigeon-toed, beset by countless conflicting emotions. Hisingenuity was taxed to its utmost by the demands of this complexsituation. But for his returning suspicion that Muriel was leading up tosomething; that she was detaining him for some purpose not yet apparent, he would have told her of her husband's note and confessed that the adoredBillie was at that moment enjoying the reluctant hospitality of Happy HillFarm. He resolved to continue his policy of silence as to the young heir'swhereabouts until Muriel had shown her hand. She had not wholly abandonedthe thought of telephoning to her father-in-law's, he found, from her nextremark. 

"You think it's all right, don't you? It's strange Roger didn't leave mea note of some kind. Our cook left a week ago and there was no one herewhen he left. "

"I reckon as how yer kid's all right, miss, " he answered consolingly. 

Her voluble confidences had enthralled him, and her reference of thismatter to his judgment was enormously flattering. On the rough edges ofsociety where he had spent most of his life, fellow craftsmen hadfrequently solicited his advice, chiefly as to the disposition of theirill-gotten gains or regarding safe harbors of refuge, but to be taken intocounsel by the only gentlewoman he had ever met roused his self-respect, touched a chivalry that never before had been wakened in The Hopper'ssoul. She was so like a child in her guilelessness, and so brave amid herperplexities!

"Oh, I know Roger will take beautiful care of Billie. And now, " she smiledradiantly, "you're probably wondering what I've been driving at all thistime. Maybe"--she added softly--"maybe it's providential, your turning uphere in this way!"

She uttered this happily, with a little note of triumph and another of hersmiles that seemed to illuminate the universe. The Hopper had been calledmany names in his varied career, but never before had he been investedwith the attributes of an agent of Providence. 

"They's things wot is an' they's things wot ain't, miss; I reckon I ain'tas bad as some. I mean to be on the square, miss. "

"I believe that, " she said. "I've always heard there's honor amongthieves, and"--she lowered her voice to a whisper--"it's possible I mightbecome one myself!"

The Hopper's eyes opened wide and he crossed and uncrossed his legsnervously in his agitation. 

"If--if"--she began slowly, bending forward with a grave, earnest look inher eyes and clasping her fingers tightly--"if we could only get hold offather's Lang-Yao jar and that plum-blossom vase Mr. Talbot has--if wecould only do that!"

The Hopper swallowed hard. This fearless, pretty young woman was calmlysuggesting that he commit two felonies, little knowing that his score forthe day already aggregated three--purse-snatching, the theft of anautomobile from her own door, and what might very readily be construed asthe kidnaping of her own child!

"I don't know, miss, " he said feebly, calculating that the sum total ofeven minimum penalties for the five crimes would outrun his natural lifeand consume an eternity of reincarnations. 

"Of course it wouldn't be stealing in the ordinary sense, " she explained. "What I want you to do is to play the part of what we will call areversible Santa Claus, who takes things away from stupid people who don'tenjoy them anyhow. And maybe if they lost these things they'd behavethemselves. I could explain afterward that it was all my fault, and ofcourse I wouldn't let any harm come to _you_. I'd be responsible, and ofcourse I'd see you safely out of it; you would have to rely on me forthat. I'm trusting _you_ and you'd have to trust _me!_"

"Oh, I'd trust ye, miss! An' ef I was to get pinched I wouldn't neversqueal on ye. We don't never blab on a pal, miss!"

He was afraid she might resent being called a "pal, " but his use of theterm apparently pleased her. 

"We understand each other, then. It really won't be very difficult, forpapa's place is over on the Sound and Mr. Talbot's is right next to it, soyou wouldn't have far to go. "

Her utter failure to comprehend the enormity of the thing she wasproposing affected him queerly. Even among hardened criminals in theunderworld such undertakings are suggested cautiously; but Muriel wasordering a burglary as though it were a pound of butter or a dozen eggs!

"Father keeps his most valuable glazes in a safe in the pantry, " sheresumed after a moment's reflection, "but I can give you the combination. That will make it a lot easier. "

The Hopper assented, with a pontifical nod, to this sanguine view of thematter. 

"Mr. Talbot keeps his finest pieces in a cabinet built into thebookshelves in his library. It's on the left side as you stand in thedrawing-room door, and you look for the works of Thomas Carlyle. There's adozen or so volumes of Carlyle, only they're not books, --not really, --butjust the backs of books painted on the steel of a safe. And if you press aspring in the upper right-hand corner of the shelf just over these booksthe whole section swings out. I suppose you've seen that sort ofhiding-place for valuables?"

"Well, not exactly, miss. But havin' a tip helps, an' ef there ain't nosoup to pour--"

"Soup?" inquired Muriel, wrinkling her pretty brows. 

"That's the juice we pour into the cracks of a safe to blow out the lidwith, " The Hopper elucidated. "Ut's a lot handier ef you've got thecombination. Ut usually ain't jes' layin' around. "

"I should hope not!" exclaimed Muriel. 

She took a sheet of paper from the leathern stationery rack and fell toscribbling, while he furtively eyed the window and again put from him thethought of flight. 

"There! That's the combination of papa's safe. " She turned her wrist andglanced at her watch. "It's half-past eleven and you can catch a trolleyin ten minutes that will take you right past papa's house. The butler's anold man who forgets to lock the windows half the time, and there's one inthe conservatory with a broken catch. I noticed it to-day when I wasthinking about stealing the jar myself!"

They were established on so firm a basis of mutual confidence that when herose and walked to the table she didn't lift her eyes from the paper onwhich she was drawing a diagram of her father's house. He stood watchingher nimble fingers, fascinated by the boldness of her plan for restoringamity between Shaver's grandfathers, and filled with admiration for herresourcefulness. 

He asked a few questions as to exits and entrances and fixed in his mind avery accurate picture of the home of her father. She then proceeded toenlighten him as to the ways and means of entering the home of herfather-in-law, which she sketched with equal facility. 

"There's a French window--a narrow glass door--on the veranda. I think youmight get in _there!_" She made a jab with the pencil. "Of course I shouldhate awfully to have you get caught! But you must have had a lot ofexperience, and with all the help I'm giving you--!"

A sudden lifting of her head gave him the full benefit of her eyes and heaverted his gaze reverently. 

"There's always a chance o' bein' nabbed, miss, " he suggested withfeeling. 

Shaver's mother wielded the same hypnotic power, highly intensified, thathe had felt in Shaver. He knew that he was going to attempt what sheasked; that he was committed to the project of robbing two houses merelyto please a pretty young woman who invited his coöperation at the point ofa revolver!

"Papa's always a sound sleeper, " she was saying. "When I was a little girla burglar went all through our house and carried off his clothes and henever knew it until the next morning. But you'll have to be careful at Mr. Talbot's, for he suffers horribly from insomnia. "

"They got any o' them fancy burglar alarms?" asked The Hopper as heconcluded his examination of her sketches. 

"Oh, I forgot to tell you about that!" she cried contritely. "There'snothing of the kind at Mr. Talbot's, but at papa's there's a switch inthe living-room, right back of a bust--a white marble thing on a pedestal. You turn it off _there_. Half the time papa forgets to switch it on beforehe goes to bed. And another thing--be careful about stumbling over thatbearskin rug in the hall. People are always sticking their feet into itsjaws. "

"I'll look out for ut, miss. "

Burglar alarms and the jaws of wild beasts were not inviting hazards. Theprogramme she outlined so light-heartedly was full of complexities. It wasalmost pathetic that any one could so cheerfully and irresponsibly suggestthe perpetration of a crime. The terms she used in describing the loot hewas to filch were much stranger to him than Chinese, but it was fairlyclear that at the Talbot house he was to steal a blue-and-white thing andat the Wilton's a red one. The form and size of these articles sheillustrated with graceful gestures. 

"If I thought you were likely to make a mistake I'd--I'd go with you!" shedeclared. 

"Oh, no, miss; ye couldn't do that! I guess I can do ut fer ye. Ut's jes'a _leetle_ ticklish. I reckon ef yer pa wuz to nab me ut'd go hard withme. "

"I wouldn't let him be hard on you, " she replied earnestly. "And now Ihaven't said anything about a--a--about what we will call a _reward_ forbringing me these porcelains. I shall expect to pay you; I couldn't thinkof taking up your time, you know, for nothing!"

"Lor', miss, I couldn't take nothin' at all fer doin' ut! Ye see ut wuzsort of accidental our meetin', and besides, I ain't nohousebreaker--not, as ye may say, reg'ler. I'll be glad to do ut fer ye, miss, an' ye can rely on me doin' my best fer ye. Ye've treated me right, miss, an' I ain't a-goin' t' fergit ut!"

The Hopper spoke with feeling. Shaver's mother had, albeit at the pistolpoint, confided her most intimate domestic affairs to him. He realized, without finding just these words for it, that she had in effect decoratedhim with the symbol of her order of knighthood and he had everyhonorable--or dishonorable!--intention of proving himself worthy of herconfidence. 

"If ye please, miss, " he said, pointing toward his confiscated revolver. 

"Certainly; you may take it. But of course you won't kill anybody?"

"No, miss; only I'm sort o' lonesome without ut when I'm on a job. "

"And you do understand, " she said, following him to the door and noting inthe distance the headlight of an approaching trolley, "that I'm only doingthis in the hope that good may come of it. It isn't really criminal, youknow; if you succeed, it may mean the happiest Christmas of my life!"

"Yes, miss. I won't come back till mornin', but don't you worry none. Wegotta play safe, miss, an' ef I land th' jugs I'll find cover till I kindeliver 'em safe. "

"Thank you; oh, thank you ever so much! And good luck!"

She put out her hand; he held it gingerly for a moment in his roughfingers and ran for the car. 

VII

The Hopper, in his rôle of the Reversible Santa Claus, dropped off the carat the crossing Muriel had carefully described, waited for the car tovanish, and warily entered the Wilton estate through a gate set in thestone wall. The clouds of the early evening had passed and the starsmarched through the heavens resplendently, proclaiming peace on earth andgood-will toward men. They were almost oppressively brilliant, seenthrough the clear, cold atmosphere, and as The Hopper slipped from one bigtree to another on his tangential course to the house, he fortified hiscourage by muttering, "They's things wot is an' things wotain't!"--finding much comfort and stimulus in the phrase. 

Arriving at the conservatory in due course, he found that Muriel'saverments as to the vulnerability of that corner of her father's housewere correct in every particular. He entered with ease, sniffed the warm, moist air, and, leaving the door slightly ajar, sought the pantry, loweredthe shades, and, helping himself to a candle from a silver candelabrum, readily found the safe hidden away in one of the cupboards. He wassurprised to find himself more nervous with the combination in his handthan on memorable occasions in the old days when he had broken intocountry postoffices and assaulted safes by force. In his haste he twicefailed to give the proper turns, but the third time the knob caught, andin a moment the door swung open disclosing shelves filled with vases, bottles, bowls, and plates in bewildering variety. A chest of silverappealed to him distractingly as a much more tangible asset than thepottery, and he dizzily contemplated a jewel-case containing a diamondnecklace with a pearl pendant. The moment was a critical one in TheHopper's eventful career. This dazzling prize was his for the taking, andhe knew the operator of a fence in Chicago who would dispose of thenecklace and make him a fair return. But visions of Muriel, the beautiful, the confiding, and of her little Shaver asleep on Humpy's bed, rose beforehim. He steeled his heart against temptation, drew his candle along theshelf and scrutinized the glazes. There could be no mistaking the redLang-Yao whose brilliant tints kindled in the candle-glow. He lifted ittenderly, verifying the various points of Muriel's description, set itdown on the floor and locked the safe. 

He was retracing his steps toward the conservatory and had reached themain hall when the creaking of the stairsteps brought him up with a start. Some one was descending, slowly and cautiously. For a second time and withgrateful appreciation of Muriel's forethought, he carefully avoided theferocious jaws of the bear, noiselessly continued on to the conservatory, crept through the door, closed it, and then, crouching on the steps, awaited developments. The caution exercised by the person descending thestairway was not that of a householder who has been roused from slumberby a disquieting noise. The Hopper was keenly interested in this fact. 

With his face against the glass he watched the actions of a tall, elderlyman with a short, grayish beard, who wore a golf-cap pulled low on hishead--points noted by The Hopper in the flashes of an electric lamp withwhich the gentleman was guiding himself. His face was clearly the originalof a photograph The Hopper had seen on the table at Muriel's cottage--Mr. Wilton, Muriel's father, The Hopper surmised; but just why the owner ofthe establishment should be prowling about in this fashion taxed hisspeculative powers to the utmost. Warned by steps on the cement floor ofthe conservatory, he left the door in haste and flattened himself againstthe wall of the house some distance away and again awaited developments. 

Wilton's figure was a blur in the star-light as he stepped out into thewalk and started furtively across the grounds. His conduct greatlydispleased The Hopper, as likely to interfere with the further carryingout of Muriel's instructions. The Lang-Yao jar was much too large to gointo his pocket and not big enough to fit snugly under his arm, and as thewalk was slippery he was beset by the fear that he might fall and smashthis absurd thing that had caused so bitter an enmity between Shaver'sgrandfathers. The soft snow on the lawn gave him a surer footing and hecrept after Wilton, who was carefully pursuing his way toward a housewhose gables were faintly limned against the sky. This, according toMuriel's diagram, was the Talbot place. The Hopper greatly mistrustedconditions he didn't understand, and he was at a loss to account forWilton's strange actions. 

[Illustration: THE FAINT CLICK OF A LATCH MARKED THE PROWLER'S PROXIMITYTO A HEDGE]

He lost sight of him for several minutes, then the faint click of a latchmarked the prowler's proximity to a hedge that separated the two estates. The Hopper crept forward, found a gate through which Wilton had enteredhis neighbor's property, and stole after him. Wilton had been swallowed upby the deep shadow of the house, but The Hopper was aware, from anoccasional scraping of feet, that he was still moving forward. He crawledover the snow until he reached a large tree whose boughs, sharply limnedagainst the stars, brushed the eaves of the house. 

The Hopper was aroused, tremendously aroused, by the unaccountableactions of Muriel's father. It flashed upon him that Wilton, in his deephatred of his rival collector, was about to set fire to Talbot's house, and incendiarism was a crime which The Hopper, with all his moralobliquity, greatly abhorred. 

Several minutes passed, a period of anxious waiting, and then a soundreached him which, to his keen professional sense, seemed singularly likethe forcing of a window. The Hopper knew just how much pressure isnecessary to the successful snapping back of a window catch, and Wiltonhad done the trick neatly and with a minimum amount of noise. The windowthus assaulted was not, he now determined, the French window suggested byMuriel, but one opening on a terrace which ran along the front of thehouse. The Hopper heard the sash moving slowly in the frame. He reachedthe steps, deposited the jar in a pile of snow, and was soon peering intoa room where Wilton's presence was advertised by the fitful flashing ofhis lamp in a far corner. 

"He's beat me to ut!" muttered The Hopper, realizing that Muriel's fatherwas indeed on burglary bent, his obvious purpose being to purloin, extract, and remove from its secret hiding-place the coveted plum-blossomvase. Muriel, in her longing for a Christmas of peace and happiness, hadnot reckoned with her father's passionate desire to possess the porcelaintreasure--a desire which could hardly fail to cause scandal, if it did notland him behind prison bars. 

This had not been in the programme, and The Hopper weighed judicially hisfurther duty in the matter. Often as he had been the chief actor indaring robberies, he had never before enjoyed the high privilege ofwatching a rival's labors with complete detachment. Wilton must have knownof the concealed cupboard whose panel fraudulently represented the worksof Thomas Carlyle, the intent spectator reflected, just as Muriel hadknown, for though he used his lamp sparingly Wilton had found his way toit without difficulty. 

The Hopper had no intention of permitting this monstrous larceny to becommitted in contravention of his own rights in the premises, and he wasconsidering the best method of wresting the vase from the hands of theinsolent Wilton when events began to multiply with startling rapidity. Thepanel swung open and the thief's lamp flashed upon shelves of pottery. 

At that moment a shout rose from somewhere in the house, and the librarylights were thrown on, revealing Wilton before the shelves and theirprecious contents. A short, stout gentleman with a gleaming bald pate, clad in pajamas, dashed across the room, and with a yell of rage flunghimself upon the intruder with a violence that bore them both to thefloor. 

"Roger! Roger!" bawled the smaller man, as he struggled with hisadversary, who wriggled from under and rolled over upon Talbot, whose armswere clasped tightly about his neck. This embrace seemed likely tocontinue for some time, so tenaciously had the little man gripped hisneighbor. The fat legs of the infuriated householder pawed the air as hehugged Wilton, who was now trying to free his head and gain a position ofgreater dignity. Occasionally, as opportunity offered, the little manyelled vociferously, and from remote recesses of the house came answeringcries demanding information as to the nature and whereabouts of thedisturbance. 

The contestants addressed themselves vigorously to a spiritedrough-and-tumble fight. Talbot, who was the more easily observed by reasonof his shining pate and the pink stripes of his pajamas, appeared to berevolving about the person of his neighbor. Wilton, though taller, lackedthe rotund Talbot's liveliness of attack. 

An authoritative voice, which The Hopper attributed to Shaver's father, anxiously demanding what was the matter, terminated The Hopper'senjoyment of the struggle. Enough was the matter to satisfy The Hopperthat a prolonged stay in the neighborhood might be highly detrimental tohis future liberty. The combatants had rolled a considerable distance awayfrom the shelves and were near a door leading into a room beyond. A youngman in a bath-wrapper dashed upon the scene, and in his precipitatearrival upon the battle-field fell sprawling across the prone figures. TheHopper, suddenly inspired to deeds of prowess, crawled through the window, sprang past the three men, seized the blue-and-white vase which Wilton hadseparated from the rest of Talbot's treasures, and then with one hopgained the window. As he turned for a last look, a pistol cracked and helanded upon the terrace amid a shower of glass from a shattered pane. 

A woman of unmistakable Celtic origin screamed murder from a third-storywindow. The thought of murder was disagreeable to The Hopper. Shaver'sfather had missed him by only the matter of a foot or two, and as he hadno intention of offering himself again as a target he stood not upon theorder of his going. 

He effected a running pick-up of the Lang-Yao, and with this art treasureunder one arm and the plum-blossom vase under the other, he sprinted forthe highway, stumbling over shrubbery, bumping into a stone bench that allbut caused disaster, and finally reached the road on which he continuedhis flight toward New Haven, followed by cries in many keys and afusillade of pistol shots. 

Arriving presently at a hamlet, where he paused for breath in the rear ofa country store, he found a basket and a quantity of paper in which hecarefully packed his loot. Over the top he spread some faded lettuceleaves and discarded carnations which communicated something of a blitheholiday air to his encumbrance. Elsewhere he found a bicycle under a shed, and while cycling over a snowy road in the dark, hampered by a basketcontaining pottery representative of the highest genius of the Orient, wasnot without its difficulties and dangers, The Hopper made rapid progress. 

Halfway through New Haven he approached two policemen and slowed down toallay suspicion. 

"Merry Chris'mas!" he called as he passed them and increased his weightupon the pedals. 

The officers of the law, cheered as by a greeting from Santa Claushimself, responded with an equally hearty Merry Christmas. 

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

VIII

At three o'clock The Hopper reached Happy Hill Farm, knocked as before atthe kitchen door, and was admitted by Humpy. 

"Wot ye got now?" snarled the reformed yeggman. 

"He's gone and done ut ag'in!" wailed Mary, as she spied the basket. 

"I sure done ut, all right, " admitted The Hopper good-naturedly, as he setthe basket on the table where a few hours earlier he had deposited Shaver. "How's the kid?"

Grudging assurances that Shaver was asleep and hostile glances directed atthe mysterious basket did not disturb his equanimity. 

Humpy was thwarted in an attempt to pry into the contents of the basket bya tart reprimand from The Hopper, who with maddening deliberation drewforth the two glazes, found that they had come through the night'svicissitudes unscathed, and held them at arm's length, turning them aboutin leisurely fashion as though lost in admiration of their loveliness. Then he lighted his pipe, seated himself in Mary's rocker, and told hisstory. 

It was no easy matter to communicate to his irritable and contumeliousauditors the sense of Muriel's charm, or the reasonableness of her requestthat he commit burglary merely to assist her in settling a family row. Mary could not understand it; Humpy paced the room nervously, shaking hishead and muttering. It was their judgment, stated with much frankness, that if he had been a fool in the first place to steal the child, hischaracter was now blackened beyond any hope by his later crimes. Mary weptcopiously; Humpy most annoyingly kept counting upon his fingers as hereckoned the "time" that was in store for all of them. 

"I guess I got into ut an' I guess I'll git out, " remarked The Hopperserenely. He was disposed to treat them with high condescension, asincapable of appreciating the lofty philosophy of life by which he wassustained. Meanwhile, he gloated over the loot of the night. 

"Them things is wurt' mints; they's more valible than di'mon's, themthings is! Only eddicated folks knows about 'em. They's fer emp'rors andkings t' set up in their palaces, an' men goes nutty jes' hankerin' fer'em. The pigtails made 'em thousand o' years back, an' th' secret diedwith 'em. They ain't never goin' to be no more jugs like them settin'right there. An' them two ole sports give up their business jes' t' chasethings like them. They's some folks goes loony about chickens, an' hosses, an' fancy dogs, but this here kind o' collectin' 's only fer millionaires. They's more difficult t' pick than a lucky race-hoss. They's barrels o'that stuff in them houses, that looked jes' as good as them there, butnowheres as valible. "

An informal lecture on Chinese ceramics before daylight on Christmasmorning was not to the liking of the anxious and nerve-torn Mary andHumpy. They brought The Hopper down from his lofty heights to practicalquestions touching his plans, for the disposal of Shaver in the firstinstance, and the ceramics in the second. The Hopper was singularlyunmoved by their forebodings. 

"I guess th' lady got me to do ut!" he retorted finally. "Ef I do time ferut I reckon's how she's in fer ut, too! An' I seen her pap breakin' into ahouse an' I guess I'd be a state's witness fer that! I reckon they ain'tgoin' t' put nothin' over on Hop! I guess they won't peep much aboutkidnapin' with th' kid safe an' us pickin' 'im up out o' th' road an'shelterin' 'im. Them folks is goin' to be awful nice to Hop fer all hedone fer 'em. " And then, finding that they were impressed by his defense, thus elaborated, he magnanimously referred to the bill-book which hadstarted him on his downward course. 

"That were a mistake; I grant ye ut were a mistake o' jedgment. I'm goin'to keep to th' white card. But ut's kind o' funny about thatpoke--queerest thing that ever happened. "

He drew out the book and eyed the name on the flap. Humpy tried to grabit, but The Hopper, frustrating the attempt, read his colleague a sharplesson in good manners. He restored it to his pocket and glanced at theclock. 

"We gotta do somethin' about Shaver's stockin's. Ut ain't fair fer a kidto wake up an' think Santy missed 'im. Ye got some candy, Mary; we kin putcandy into 'em; that's reg'ler. "

Humpy brought in Shaver's stockings and they were stuffed with the candyand popcorn Mary had provided to adorn their Christmas feast. Humpyinventoried his belongings, but could think of nothing but a revolver thatseemed a suitable gift for Shaver. This Mary scornfully rejected asimproper for one so young. Whereupon Humpy produced a Mexican silverdollar, a treasured pocket-piece preserved through many tribulations, anddropped it reverently into one of the stockings. Two brass buttons ofunknown history, a mouth-organ Mary had bought for a neighbor boy whoassisted at times in the poultry yard, and a silver spectacle case ofuncertain antecedents were added. 

"We ought t' 'a' colored eggs fer 'im!" said The Hopper with suddeninspiration, after the stockings had been restored to Shaver's bed. "Someyaller an' pink eggs would 'a' been the right ticket. "

Mary scoffed at the idea. Eggs wasn't proper fer Christmas; eggs was ferEaster. Humpy added the weight of his personal experience of Christianholidays to this statement. While a trusty in the Missouri penitentiarywith the chicken yard in his keeping, he remembered distinctly that eggswere in demand for purposes of decoration by the warden's childrensometime in the spring; mebbe it was Easter, mebbe it was Decoration Day;Humpy was not sure of anything except that it wasn't Christmas. 

The Hopper was meek under correction. It having been settled that coloredeggs would not be appropriate for Christmas he yielded to their demandthat he show some enthusiasm for disposing of his ill-gotten treasuresbefore the police arrived to take the matter out of his hands. 

"I guess that Muriel'll be glad to see me, " he remarked. "I guess me andher understands each other. They's things wot is an' things wot ain't; an'I guess Hop ain't goin' to spend no Chris'mas in jail. It's the white cardan' poultry an' eggs fer us; an' we're goin' t' put in a couple moreincubators right away. I'm thinkin' some o' rentin' that acre across th'brook back yonder an' raisin' turkeys. They's mints in turks, ef ye kinkeep 'em from gettin' their feet wet an' dyin' o' pneumonia, which wipesout thousands o' them birds. I reckon ye might make some coffee, Mary. "

The Christmas dawn found them at the table, where they were renewing apledge to play "the white card" when a cry from Shaver brought them totheir feet. 

Shaver was highly pleased with his Christmas stockings, but his pleasurewas nothing to that of The Hopper, Mary, and Humpy, as they stood aboutthe bed and watched him. Mary and Humpy were so relieved by The Hopper'spromises to lead a better life that they were now disposed to treat theirguest with the most distinguished consideration. Humpy, absenting himselfto perform his morning tasks in the poultry-houses, returned bringing abasket containing six newly hatched chicks. These cheeped and ran overShaver's fat legs and performed exactly as though they knew they were apart of his Christmas entertainment. Humpy, proud of having thought of thechicks, demanded the privilege of serving Shaver's breakfast. Shaver atehis porridge without a murmur, so happy was he over his new playthings. 

Mary bathed and dressed him with care. As the candy had stuck to thestockings in spots, it was decided after a family conference that Shaverwould have to wear them wrong side out as there was no time to be wastedin washing them. By eight o'clock The Hopper announced that it was timefor Shaver to go home. Shaver expressed alarm at the thought of leavinghis chicks; whereupon Humpy conferred two of them upon him in the bestimitation of baby talk that he could muster. 

"Me's tate um to me's gwanpas, " said Shaver; "chickee for me's twogwanpas, "--a remark which caused The Hopper to shake for a moment withmirth as he recalled his last view of Shaver's "gwanpas" in a death gripupon the floor of "Gwanpa" Talbot's house. 

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

IX

When The Hopper rolled away from Happy Hill Farm in the stolen machine, accompanied by one stolen child and forty thousand dollars' worth ofstolen pottery, Mary wept, whether because of the parting with Shaver, orbecause she feared that The Hopper would never return, was not clear. 

Humpy, too, showed signs of tears, but concealed his weakness byperforming a grotesque dance, dancing grotesquely by the side of the car, much to Shaver's joy--a joy enhanced just as the car reached the gate, where, as a farewell attention, Humpy fell down and rolled over and overin the snow. 

The Hopper's wits were alert as he bore Shaver homeward. By this time itwas likely that the confiding young Talbots had conferred over thetelephone and knew that their offspring had disappeared. Doubtless the NewHaven police had been notified, and he chose his route with discretion toavoid unpleasant encounters. Shaver, his spirits keyed to holiday pitch, babbled ceaselessly, and The Hopper, highly elated, babbled back at him. 

They arrived presently at the rear of the young Talbots' premises, and TheHopper, with Shaver trotting at his side, advanced cautiously upon thehouse bearing the two baskets, one containing Shaver's chicks, the otherthe precious porcelains. In his survey of the landscape he noted withtrepidation the presence of two big limousines in the highway in front ofthe cottage and decided that if possible he must see Muriel alone and makehis report to her. 

The moment he entered the kitchen he heard the clash of voices in angrydispute in the living-room. Even Shaver was startled by the violence ofthe conversation in progress within, and clutched tightly a fold of TheHopper's trousers. 

"I tell you it's John Wilton who has stolen Billie!" a man criedtempestuously. "Anybody who would enter a neighbor's house in the dead ofnight and try to rob him--rob him, yes, and _murder_ him in the mostbrutal fashion--would not scruple to steal his own grandchild!"

"Me's gwanpa, " whispered Shaver, gripping The Hopper's hand, "an' 'im'smad. "

That Mr. Talbot was very angry indeed was established beyond cavil. However, Mr. Wilton was apparently quite capable of taking care of himselfin the dispute. 

"You talk about my stealing when you robbed me of my Lang-Yao--bribed myservants to plunder my safe! I want you to understand once for all, RogerTalbot, that if that jar isn't returned within one hour, --within one hour, sir, --I shall turn you over to the police!"

"Liar!" bellowed Talbot, who possessed a voice of great resonance. "Youcan't mitigate your foul crime by charging me with another! I never sawyour jar; I never wanted it! I wouldn't have the thing on my place!"

Muriel's voice, full of tears, was lifted in expostulation. 

"How can you talk of your silly vases when Billie's lost! Billie's beenstolen--and you two men can think of nothing but pot-ter-ree!"

Shaver lifted a startled face to The Hopper. 

"Mamma's cwyin'; gwanpa's hurted mamma!"

The strategic moment had arrived when Shaver must be thrust forward as aninterruption to the exchange of disagreeable epithets by his grandfathers. 

"You trot right in there t' yer ma, Shaver. Ole Hop ain't goin' t' let 'emhurt ye!"

He led the child through the dining room to the living-room door andpushed him gently on the scene of strife. Talbot, senior, was pacing thefloor with angry strides, declaiming upon his wrongs, --indeed, his thememight have been the misery of the whole human race from the vigor of hislamentations. His son was keeping step with him, vainly attempting topersuade him to sit down. Wilton, with a patch over his right eye, wastrying to disengage himself from his daughter's arms with the obviousintention of doing violence to his neighbor. 

"I'm sure papa never meant to hurt you; it was all a dreadful mistake, "she moaned. 

"He had an accomplice, " Talbot thundered, "and while he was trying to killme there in my own house the plum-blossom vase was carried off; and ifRoger hadn't pushed him out of the window after his hireling--I'd--I'd--"

A shriek from Muriel happily prevented the completion of a sentence thatgave every promise of intensifying the prevailing hard feeling. 

"Look!" Muriel cried. "It's Billie come back! Oh, Billie!"

She sprang toward the door and clasped the frightened child to her heart. The three men gathered round them, staring dully. The Hopper from behindthe door waited for Muriel's joy over Billie's return to communicateitself to his father and the two grandfathers. 

"Me's dot two chick-ees for Kwismus, " announced Billie, wriggling in hismother's arms. 

Muriel, having satisfied herself that Billie was intact, --that he evenbore the marks of maternal care, --was in the act of transferring him tohis bewildered father, when, turning a tear-stained face toward the door, she saw The Hopper awkwardly twisting the derby which he had donned asproper for a morning call of ceremony. She walked toward him with quick, eager step. 

"You--you came back!" she faltered, stifling a sob. 

"Yes'm, " responded The Hopper, rubbing his hand across his nose. Hisappearance roused Billie's father to a sense of his parentalresponsibility. 

"You brought the boy back! You are the kidnaper!"

"Roger, " cried Muriel protestingly, "don't speak like that! I'm sure thisgentleman can explain how he came to bring Billie. "

The quickness with which she regained her composure, the ease with whichshe adjusted herself to the unforeseen situation, pleased The Hoppergreatly. He had not misjudged Muriel; she was an admirable ally, an idealconfederate. She gave him a quick little nod, as much as to say, "Go on, sir; we understand each other perfectly, "--though, of course, she did notunderstand, nor was she enlightened until some time later, as to just howThe Hopper became possessed of Billie. 

[Illustration: THE THREE MEN GATHERED ROUND THEM, STARING DULLY]

Billie's father declared his purpose to invoke the law upon his son'skidnapers no matter where they might be found. 

"I reckon as mebbe ut wuz a kidnapin' an' I reckon as mebbe ut wuzn't, "The Hopper began unhurriedly. "I live over Shell Road way; poultry andeggs is my line; Happy Hill Farm. Stevens's the name--Charles S. Stevens. An' I found Shaver--'scuse me, but ut seemed sort o' nat'ral name fer'im?--I found 'im a settin' up in th' machine over there by my place, chipper's ye please. I takes 'im into my house an' Mary'--that's th'missus--she gives 'im supper and puts 'im t' sleep. An' we thinks mebbesomebody'd come along askin' fer 'im. An' then this mornin' I calls th'New Haven police, an' they tole me about you folks, an' me and Shavercomes right over. "

This was entirely plausible and his hearers, The Hopper noted with relief, accepted it at face value. 

"How dear of you!" cried Muriel. "Won't you have this chair, Mr. Stevens!"

"Most remarkable!" exclaimed Wilton. "Some scoundrelly tramp picked up thecar and finding there was a baby inside left it at the roadside like thebrute he was!"

Billie had addressed himself promptly to the Christmas tree, to his veryown Christmas tree that was laden with gifts that had been assembled bythe family for his delectation. Efforts of Grandfather Wilton to extractfrom the child some account of the man who had run away with him wereunavailing. Billie was busy, very busy, indeed. After much patient efforthe stopped sorting the animals in a bright new Noah's Ark to point hisfinger at The Hopper and remark:--

"'Ims nice mans; 'ims let Bil-lee play wif 'ims watch!"

As Billie had broken the watch his acknowledgment of The Hopper's courtesyin letting him play with it brought a grin to The Hopper's face. 

Now that Billie had been returned and his absence satisfactorily accountedfor, the two connoisseurs showed signs of renewing their quarrel. Responsive to a demand from Billie, The Hopper got down on the floor toassist in the proper mating of Noah's animals. Billie's father wasscrutinizing him fixedly and The Hopper wondered whether Muriel's handsomeyoung husband had recognized him as the person who had vanished throughthe window of the Talbot home bearing the plum-blossom vase. The thoughtwas disquieting; but feigning deep interest in the Ark he listenedattentively to a violent tirade upon which the senior Talbot was launched. 

"My God!" he cried bitterly, planting himself before Wilton in abelligerent attitude, "every infernal thing that can happen to a manhappened to me yesterday. It wasn't enough that you robbed me and tried tomurder me--yes, you did, sir!--but when I was in the city I was robbed inthe subway by a pickpocket. A thief took my bill-book containinginvaluable data I had just received from my agent in China giving me aclue to porcelains, sir, such as you never dreamed of! Some more of yourwork--Don't you contradict me! You don't contradict me! Roger, he doesn'tcontradict me!"

Wilton, choking with indignation at this new onslaught, was unable tocontradict him. 

Pained by the situation, The Hopper rose from the floor and coughedtimidly. 

"Shaver, go fetch yer chickies. Bring yer chickies in an' put 'em on th'boat. "

Billie obediently trotted off toward the kitchen and The Hopper turned hisback upon the Christmas tree, drew out the pocket-book and faced thecompany. 

"I beg yer pardon, gents, but mebbe this is th' book yer fightin' about. Kind o' funny like! I picked ut up on th' local yistiddy afternoon. I wuzgoin' t' turn ut int' th' agint, but I clean fergot ut. I guess thempapers may be valible. I never touched none of 'em. "

Talbot snatched the bill-book and hastily examined the contents. His browrelaxed and he was grumbling something about a reward when Billiereappeared, laboriously dragging two baskets. 

"Bil-lee's dot chick-_ees_! Bil-lee's dot pitty dishes. Bil-lee makedishes go 'ippity!"

Before he could make the two jars go 'ippity, The Hopper leaped acrossthe room and seized the basket. He tore off the towel with which he hadcarefully covered the stolen pottery and disclosed the contents forinspection. 

"'Scuse me, gents; no crowdin', " he warned as the connoisseurs sprangtoward him. He placed the porcelains carefully on the floor under theChristmas tree. "Now ye kin listen t' me, gents. I reckon I'm goin' t'have somethin' t' say about this here crockery. I stole 'em--I stole 'emfer th' lady there, she thinkin' ef ye didn't have 'em no more ye'd stoprowin' about 'em. Ye kin call th' bulls an' turn me over ef ye likes; butI ain't goin' t' have ye fussin' an' causin' th' lady trouble no more. Iain't goin' to stand fer ut!"

"Robber!" shouted Talbot. "You entered my house at the instance of thisman; it was you--"

"I never saw the gent before, " declared The Hopper hotly. "I ain't neverhad no thin' to do with neither o' ye. "

"He's telling the truth!" protested Muriel, laughing hysterically. "I didit--I got him to take them!"

The two collectors were not interested in explanations; they were hungrilyeyeing their property. Wilton attempted to pass The Hopper and reach theChristmas tree under whose protecting boughs the two vases were lookingtheir loveliest. 

"Stand back, " commanded The Hopper, "an' stop callin' names! I guess efI'm yanked fer this I ain't th' only one that's goin' t' do time fer housebreakin'. "

This statement, made with considerable vigor, had a sobering effect uponWilton, but Talbot began dancing round the tree looking for a chance topounce upon the porcelains. 

"Ef ye don't set down--the whole caboodle o' ye--I'll smash 'em--I'llsmash 'em both! I'll bust 'em--sure as shootin'!" shouted The Hopper. 

They cowered before him; Muriel wept softly; Billie played with hischickies, disdainful of the world's woe. The Hopper, holding the two angrymen at bay, was enjoying his command of the situation. 

"You gents ain't got no business to be fussin' an' causin' yer childerntrouble. An' ye ain't goin' to have these pretty jugs to fuss about nomore. I'm goin' t' give 'em away; I'm goin' to make a Chris'mas present of'em to Shaver. They're goin' to be little Shaver's right here, all orderlyan' peace'ble, or I'll tromp on 'em! Looky here, Shaver, wot Santy Clausbrought ye!"

"Nice dood Sant' Claus!" cried Billie, diving under the davenport in questof the wandering chicks. 

Silence held the grown-ups. The Hopper stood patiently by the Christmastree, awaiting the result of his diplomacy. 

Then suddenly Wilton laughed--a loud laugh expressive of relief. He turnedto Talbot and put out his hand. 

"It looks as though Muriel and her friend here had cornered us! The ideaof pooling our trophies and giving them as a Christmas present to Billieappeals to me strongly. And, besides we've got to prepare somebody to lovethese things after we're gone. We can work together and train Billie to bethe greatest collector in America!"

"Please, father, " urged Roger as Talbot frowned and shook his headimpatiently. 

Billie, struck with the happy thought of hanging one of his chickies onthe Christmas tree, caused them all to laugh at this moment. It wasdifficult to refuse to be generous on Christmas morning in the presence ofthe happy child!

"Well, " said Talbot, a reluctant smile crossing his face, "I guess it'sall in the family anyway. "

The Hopper, feeling that his work as the Reversible Santa Claus wasfinished, was rapidly retreating through the dining-room when Muriel andRoger ran after him. 

"We're going to take you home, " cried Muriel, beaming. 

"Yer car's at the back gate, all right-side-up, " said The Hopper, "but Ikin go on the trolley. "

"Indeed you won't! Roger will take you home. Oh, don't be alarmed! Myhusband knows everything about our conspiracy. And we want you to comeback this afternoon. You know I owe you an apology for thinking--forthinking you were--you were--a--"

"They's things wot is an' things wot ain't, miss. Circumstantial evidencesends lots o' men to th' chair. Ut's a heap more happy like, " The Hoppercontinued in his best philosophical vein, "t' play th' white card, helpin'widders an' orfants an' settlin' fusses. When ye ast me t' steal them jugsI hadn't th' heart t' refuse ye, miss. I wuz scared to tell ye I had yerbaby an' ye seemed so sort o' trustin' like. An' ut bein' Chris'mus an'all. "

When he steadfastly refused to promise to return, Muriel announced thatthey would visit The Hopper late in the afternoon and bring Billie alongto express their thanks more formally. 

"I'll be glad to see ye, " replied The Hopper, though a little doubtfullyand shame-facedly. "But ye mustn't git me into no more house-breakin'scrapes, " he added with a grin. "It's mighty dangerous, miss, feramachures, like me an' yer pa!"

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

X

Mary was not wholly pleased at the prospect of visitors, but she fell towork with Humpy to put the house in order. At five o'clock not one, butthree automobiles drove into the yard, filling Humpy with alarm lest atlast The Hopper's sins had overtaken him, and they were all about to behauled away to spend the rest of their lives in prison. It was not thepolice, but the young Talbots, with Billie and his grandfathers, on theirway to a family celebration at the house of an aunt of Muriel's. 

The grandfathers were restored to perfect amity, and were deeply curiousnow about The Hopper, whom the peace-loving Muriel had cajoled intorobbing their houses. 

"And you're only an honest chicken farmer, after all!" exclaimed Talbot, senior, when they were all sitting in a semicircle about the fireplace inMary's parlor. "I hoped you were really a burglar; I always wanted to knowa burglar. "

Humpy had chopped down a small fir that had adorned the front yard and hadset it up as a Christmas tree--an attention that was not lost upon Billie. The Hopper had brought some mechanical toys from town, and Humpy essayedthe agreeable task of teaching the youngster how to operate them. Maryproduced coffee and pound cake for the guests; The Hopper assumed therôle of lord of the manor with a benevolent air that was intended as muchto impress Mary and Humpy as the guests. 

"Of course, " said Mr. Wilton, whose appearance was the least bit comicalby reason of his bandaged head, --"of course it was very foolish for a manof your sterling character to allow a young woman like my daughter tobully you into robbing houses for her. Why, when Roger fired at you as youwere jumping out of the window, he didn't miss you more than a foot! Itwould have been ghastly for all of us if he had killed you!"

"Well, o' course it all begun from my goin' into th' little house lookin'fer Shaver's folks, " replied The Hopper. 

"But you haven't told us how you came to find our house, " said Roger, suggesting a perfectly natural line of inquiries that caused Humpy tobecome deeply preoccupied with a pump he was operating in a basin of waterfor Billie's benefit. 

"Well, ut jes' looked like a house that Shaver would belong to, cute an'comfortable like, " said The Hopper; "I jes' suspicioned it wuz th' placeas I wuz passin' along. "

"I don't think we'd better begin trying to establish alibis, " remarkedMuriel, very gently, "for we might get into terrible scrapes. Why, if Mr. Stevens hadn't been so splendid about _everything_ and wasn't just thekindest man in the world, he could make it very ugly for me. "

"I shudder to think of what he might do to me, " said Wilton, glancingguardedly at his neighbor. 

"The main thing, " said Talbot, --"the main thing is that Mr. Stevens hasdone for us all what nobody else could ever have done. He's made us seehow foolish it is to quarrel about mere baubles. He's settled all ourtroubles for us, and for my part I'll say his solution is entirelysatisfactory. "

"Quite right, " ejaculated Wilton. "If I ever have any delicate businessnegotiations that are beyond my powers I'm going to engage Mr. Stevens tohandle them. "

"My business's hens an' eggs, " said The Hopper modestly; "an' we're doin'purty well. "

When they rose to go (a move that evoked strident protests from Billie, who was enjoying himself hugely with Humpy) they were all in the jolliesthumor. 

"We must be neighborly, " said Muriel, shaking hands with Mary, who was atthe point of tears so great was her emotion at the success of The Hopper'sparty. "And we're going to buy all our chickens and eggs from you. Wenever have any luck raising our own. "

Whereupon The Hopper imperturbably pressed upon each of the visitors aneat card stating his name (his latest and let us hope his last!) with theproper rural route designation of Happy Hill Farm. 

The Hopper carried Billie out to his Grandfather Wilton's car, while Humpywalked beside him bearing the gifts from the Happy Hill Farm Christmastree. From the door Mary watched them depart amid a chorus of merryChristmases, out of which Billie's little pipe rang cheerily. 

When The Hopper and Humpy returned to the house, they abandoned theparlor for the greater coziness of the kitchen and there took account ofthe events of the momentous twenty-four hours. 

"Them's what I call nice folks, " said Humpy. "They jes' put us on an' woreus like we wuz a pair o' ole slippers. "

"They wuzn't uppish--not to speak of, " Mary agreed. "I guess that girl'sgot more gumption than any of 'em. She's got 'em straightened up now and Iguess she'll take care they don't cut up no more monkey-shines about thatChinese stuff. Her husban' seemed sort o' gentle like. "

"Artists is that way, " volunteered The Hopper, as though from deepexperience of art and life. "I jes' been thinkin' that knowin' folks likethat an' findin' 'em humin, makin' mistakes like th' rest of us, kind o'makes ut seem easier fer us all t' play th' game straight. Ut's goin' tobe th' white card fer me--jes' chickens an' eggs, an' here's hopin' thebulls don't ever find out we're settled here. "

Humpy, having gone into the parlor to tend the fire, returned with twoenvelopes he had found on the mantel. There was a check for a thousanddollars in each, one from Wilton, the other from Talbot, with "MerryChristmas" written across the visiting-cards of those gentlemen. TheHopper permitted Mary and Humpy to examine them and then laid them on thekitchen table, while he deliberated. His meditations were so prolongedthat they grew nervous. 

"I reckon they could spare ut, after all ye done fer 'em, Hop, " remarkedHumpy. 

"They's millionaires, an' money ain't nothin' to 'em, " said The Hopper. 

"We can buy a motor-truck, " suggested Mary, "to haul our stuff to town;an' mebbe we can build a new shed to keep ut in. "

The Hopper set the catsup bottle on the checks and rubbed his cheek, squinting at the ceiling in the manner of one who means to be careful ofhis speech. 

"They's things wot is an' things wot ain't, " he began. "We ain't none o'us ever got nowheres bein' crooked. I been figurin' that I still got abouttwenty thousan' o' that bunch o' green I pulled out o' that express car, planted in places where 'taint doin' nobody no good. I guess ef I do utcareful I kin send ut back to the company, a little at a time, an' they'dnever know where ut come from. "

Mary wept; Humpy stared, his mouth open, his one eye rolling queerly. 

"I guess we kin put a little chunk away every year, " The Hopper went on. "We'd be comfortabler doin' ut. We could square up ef we lived longenough, which we don't need t' worry about, that bein' the Lord'sbusiness. You an' me's cracked a good many safes, Hump, but we never madeno money at ut, takin' out th' time we done. "

"He's got religion; that's wot he's got!" moaned Humpy, as though thismarked the ultimate tragedy of The Hopper's life. 

"Mebbe ut's religion an' mebbe ut's jes' sense, " pursued The Hopper, unshaken by Humpy's charge. "They wuz a chaplin in th' Minnesoty pen asused t' say ef we're all square with our own selves ut's goin' to be allright with God. I guess I got a good deal o' squarin' t' do, but I'm goin't' begin ut. An' all these things happenin' along o' Chris'mus, an' littleShaver an' his ma bein' so friendly like, an' her gittin' me t' helpstraighten out them ole gents, an' doin' all I done an' not gettin'pinched seems more 'n jes' luck; it's providential's wot ut is!"

This, uttered in a challenging tone, evoked a sob from Humpy, whoannounced that he "felt like" he was going to die. 

"It's th' Chris'mus time, I reckon, " said Mary, watching The Hopperdeposit the two checks in the clock. "It's the only decent Chris'mus Iever knowed!"

THE END