Reversible Santa Claus, by 
Meredith Nicholson 
 
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Title: A Reversible Santa Claus 
Author: Meredith Nicholson 
Release Date: February 14, 2005 [EBook #15044] 
Language: English 
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A 
REVERSIBLE SANTA CLAUS *** 
 
Produced by Suzanne Shell, Emmy and the PG Online Distributed 
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A REVERSIBLE SANTA CLAUS 
BY MEREDITH NICHOLSON
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY FLORENCE H. MINARD 
BOSTON and NEW YORK HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 
The Riverside Press, Cambridge 
1917 
COPYRIGHT, 1917, BY MEREDITH NICHOLSON 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 
Published October 1917 
By Meredeth Nicholson 
A REVERSIBLE SANTA CLAUS. Illustrated. THE PROOF OF THE 
PUDDING. Illustrated. THE POET. Illustrated. OTHERWISE 
PHYLLIS. With frontispiece in color. THE PROVINCIAL 
AMERICAN AND OTHER PAPERS. A HOOSIER CHRONICLE. 
With illustrations. THE SIEGE OF THE SEVEN SUITORS. With 
illustrations. 
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 
BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
 
A Reversible Santa Claus 
[Illustration: "DO YOU MIND TELLING ME JUST WHY YOU 
READ THAT NOTE?" (Page 78)] 
Illustrations 
"DO YOU MIND TELLING ME JUST WHY YOU READ THAT 
NOTE?" Frontispiece 
THE HOPPER GRINNED, PROUD OF HIS SUCCESS, WHICH
MARY AND HUMPY VIEWED WITH GRUDGING ADMIRATION 
44 
THE FAINT CLICK OF A LATCH MARKED THE PROWLER'S 
PROXIMITY TO A HEDGE 116 
THE THREE MEN GATHERED ROUND THEM, STARING 
DULLY 150 
From Drawings by F. Minard 
* * * * * 
[Illustration] 
 
A Reversible Santa Claus 
 
I 
Mr. William B. Aikins, alias "Softy" Hubbard, alias Billy The Hopper, 
paused for breath behind a hedge that bordered a quiet lane and peered 
out into the highway at a roadster whose tail light advertised its 
presence to his felonious gaze. It was Christmas Eve, and after a day of 
unseasonable warmth a slow, drizzling rain was whimsically changing 
to snow. 
The Hopper was blowing from two hours' hard travel over rough 
country. He had stumbled through woodlands, flattened himself in 
fence corners to avoid the eyes of curious motorists speeding 
homeward or flying about distributing Christmas gifts, and he was now 
bent upon committing himself to an inter-urban trolley line that would 
afford comfortable transportation for the remainder of his journey. 
Twenty miles, he estimated, still lay between him and his domicile. 
The rain had penetrated his clothing and vigorous exercise had not 
greatly diminished the chill in his blood. His heart knocked violently
against his ribs and he was dismayed by his shortness of wind. The 
Hopper was not so young as in the days when his agility and genius for 
effecting a quick "get-away" had earned for him his sobriquet. The last 
time his Bertillon measurements were checked (he was subjected to this 
humiliating experience in Omaha during the Ak-Sar-Ben carnival three 
years earlier) official note was taken of the fact that The Hopper's hair, 
long carried in the records as black, was rapidly whitening. 
At forty-eight a crook--even so resourceful and versatile a member of 
the fraternity as The Hopper--begins to mistrust himself. For the greater 
part of his life, when not in durance vile, The Hopper had been in 
hiding, and the state or condition of being a fugitive, hunted by 
keen-eyed agents of justice, is not, from all accounts, an enviable one. 
His latest experience of involuntary servitude had been under the 
auspices of the State of Oregon, for a trifling indiscretion in the way of 
safe-blowing. Having served his sentence, he skillfully effaced himself 
by a year's siesta on a pine-apple plantation in Hawaii. The island 
climate was not wholly pleasing to The Hopper, and when pine-apples 
palled he took passage from Honolulu as a stoker, reached San 
Francisco (not greatly chastened in spirit), and by a series of 
characteristic hops, skips, and jumps across the continent landed in 
Maine by way of the Canadian provinces. The Hopper needed money. 
He was not without a certain crude philosophy, and it had been his 
dream to acquire by some brilliant coup a sufficient fortune upon which 
to retire and live as a decent, law-abiding citizen for the remainder of 
his days. This ambition, or at least the means to its fulfillment, can 
hardly be defended as praiseworthy, but The Hopper was a singular 
character and we must take him as we find him. Many prison chaplains 
and jail visitors bearing tracts had striven with little success to implant 
moral ideals in the mind and soul of The Hopper, but he was still to be 
catalogued among the impenitent; and as he moved southward through 
the Commonwealth of Maine he was so oppressed by his poverty, as    
    
		
	
	
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