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."