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

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

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

Mary expostulated; Humpy offered advice as to the best manner of dealing
with the refractory Shaver, who gave further expression to his resentment
by throwing The Hopper's watch with violence against the wall. That the
table-service of The Hopper's establishment was not to Shaver's liking was
manifested in repeated rejections of the plain white bowl in which Mary
offered the porridge. He demanded his very own porridge bowl with the
increasing vehemence of one who is willing to starve rather than accept so
palpable a substitute. He threw himself back on the table and lay there
kicking and crying. Other needs now occurred to Shaver: he wanted his
papa; he wanted his mamma; he wanted to go to his gwan'pa's. He clamored
for Santa Claus and numerous Christmas trees which, it seemed, had been
promised him at the houses of his kinsfolk. It was amazing and bewildering
that the heart of one so young could desire so many things that were not
immediately attainable. He had begun to suspect that he was among
strangers who were not of his way of life, and this was fraught with the