bot thundered, "and while he was trying to kill
me there in my own house the plum-blossom vase was carried off; and if
Roger 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 that
gave 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 behind
the door waited for Muriel's joy over Billie's return to communicate
itself to his father and the two grandfathers.

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

Muriel, having satisfied herself that Billie was intact,--that he even
bore the marks of maternal care,--was in the act of transferring him to
his bewildered father, when, turning a tear-stained face toward the door,
she saw The Hopper awkwardly twisting the derby which he had donned as
proper 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. His
appearance roused Billie's father to a sense of his parental
responsibility.

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

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

The quickness with which she regained her composure, the ease with which
she adjusted herself to the unforeseen situation, pleased The Hopper
greatly. He had not misjudged Muriel; she was an admirable ally, an ideal
confederate. 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 not
understand, nor was she enlightened until some time later, as to just how
The 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's
kidnapers 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 and
eggs 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