“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 to become deeply preoccupied with a pump he was operating in a basin of water for 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’ place as I wuz passin’ along.”

“I don’t think we’d better begin trying to establish alibis,” remarked Muriel, very gently, “for we might get into terrible scrapes.  Why, if Mr. Stevens hadn’t been so splendid about everything and wasn’t just the kindest 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, glancing guardedly at his neighbor.

“The main thing,” said Talbot,—­“the main thing is that Mr. Stevens has done for us all what nobody else could ever have done.  He’s made us see how foolish it is to quarrel about mere baubles.  He’s settled all our troubles for us, and for my part I’ll say his solution is entirely satisfactory.”

“Quite right,” ejaculated Wilton.  “If I ever have any delicate business negotiations that are beyond my powers I’m going to engage Mr. Stevens to handle 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 jolliest humor.

“We must be neighborly,” said Muriel, shaking hands with Mary, who was at the point of tears so great was her emotion at the success of The Hopper’s party.  “And we’re going to buy all our chickens and eggs from you.  We never have any luck raising our own.”

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

The Hopper carried Billie out to his Grandfather Wilton’s car, while Humpy walked beside him bearing the gifts from the Happy Hill Farm Christmas tree.  From the door Mary watched them depart amid a chorus of merry Christmases, out of which Billie’s little pipe rang cheerily.

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

“Them’s what I call nice folks,” said Humpy.  “They jes’ put us on an’ wore us like we wuz a pair o’ ole slippers.”

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