“Robber!” shouted Talbot.  “You entered my house at the instance of this man; it was you—­”

“I never saw the gent before,” declared The Hopper hotly.  “I ain’t never had no thin’ to do with neither o’ ye.”

“He’s telling the truth!” protested Muriel, laughing hysterically.  “I did it—­I got him to take them!”

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

“Stand back,” commanded The Hopper, “an’ stop callin’ names!  I guess ef I’m yanked fer this I ain’t th’ only one that’s goin’ t’ do time fer house breakin’.”

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

“Ef ye don’t set down—­the whole caboodle o’ ye—­I’ll smash ’em—­I’ll smash ’em both!  I’ll bust ’em—­sure as shootin’!” shouted The Hopper.

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

“You gents ain’t got no business to be fussin’ an’ causin’ yer childern trouble.  An’ ye ain’t goin’ to have these pretty jugs to fuss about no more.  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 orderly an’ peace’ble, or I’ll tromp on ’em!  Looky here, Shaver, wot Santy Claus brought ye!”

“Nice dood Sant’ Claus!” cried Billie, diving under the davenport in quest of the wandering chicks.

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

Then suddenly Wilton laughed—­a loud laugh expressive of relief.  He turned to Talbot and put out his hand.

“It looks as though Muriel and her friend here had cornered us!  The idea of pooling our trophies and giving them as a Christmas present to Billie appeals to me strongly.  And, besides we’ve got to prepare somebody to love these things after we’re gone.  We can work together and train Billie to be the greatest collector in America!”

“Please, father,” urged Roger as Talbot frowned and shook his head impatiently.

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

“Well,” said Talbot, a reluctant smile crossing his face, “I guess it’s all in the family anyway.”

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