UNCLE BILL
"What's that, Bunny Brown?" called Miss Winkler, stepping to the door of
the parlor, in which Mr. Treadwell was looking for his missing wig.
"What's that you said about an old man?"
"There's one in your kitchen now," added Sue, for she was now looking at
the funny "old man" in the kitchen.
"One what in my kitchen?" asked Miss Winkler, in surprise.
"A funny old man," said Bunny again. "And he's after some of your nice
sugar cookies." Bunny knew Miss Winkler's sugar cookies were nice
because she sometimes gave him and Sue some. Not too often, but once in
a while.
"An old man after my cookies, is there?" cried the sailor's sister.
"Well, I'll see about that!"
Down the hall she hurried, leaving Mr. Treadwell to look for the wig
himself, and this he was doing.
"I suppose it's some tramp!" exclaimed Miss Winkler. "Wait until I take
the broom stick to him! The idea of taking my cookies! I'd rather give
'em to you children than to an old tramp. I wish your dog was here,
Bunny Brown!"
"Oh, so do I!" cried Bunny. "Splash would hang on to the tramp the way
he hangs to Mr. Treadwell's coat in the play. Oh, Sue, let's go home and
get our Splash, and sic him on the tramp!"
By this time Miss Winkler had reached the kitchen door. Bunny and Sue,
with Lucile and Mart, stood to one side, so the sailor's sister could go
in and stop the funny old man from taking her cookies.
Into the kitchen hurried Miss Winkler. There, surely enough, with his
gray head just showing over the back of a hall chair on which he was
standing, was what seemed to be an old man. He had on a black coat, and
one hand appeared to be reaching up into the cookie closet.
"Hi there! Get down out of that!" cried Miss Winkler. "The idea of you
daring to take my cookies! Get out of here! You tramp!"
And the green parrot, in his cage hanging in the kitchen, cried in his
shrill voice:
"No tramps allowed! Out you go! Sic him, Towser! Bow wow!"
Bunny, Sue, Mart, and Lucile hurried into the kitchen after Miss
Winkler. They saw her quickly take a broom from a corner.
And then, as the sailor's sister ran around in front of the chair, on
which the old man tramp seemed to be standing, she gave a scream.
"Wango! You good-for-nothing monkey you!" cried Miss Winkler. "The idea
of pretending you were a tramp! I've a good notion to take this broom to
you, anyhow!"
There was a chatter from the chair and the gray head dropped down out of
sight.
"Oh, was it Wango?" cried Bunny Brown.
"Indeed it was!" said Miss Winkler. "The idea of his fooling us all like
that!"
"But he looked just like an old man with gray hair," said Sue.
"Indeed he did," chimed in Mart and Lucile Clayton.
Just then Mr. Treadwell came through the hall into the kitchen.
"It's no use, Miss Winkler," he said. "I can't find my big wig anywhere.
If I use one like if in the play I'll have to send to New York for
another. My wig is lost."
"No, it isn't, either!" exclaimed Miss Winkler. "There it is--on Wango!"
She pointed to the monkey, which, just then, ran around from behind the
chair on which he had been standing. And, surely enough Wango had on the
big, white wig for which Mr. Treadwell and Miss Winkler had been
searching so long. The wig made Wango look like an old man.
"And he has on one of my jackets, too!" exclaimed the actor. "It's one I
use in some of my stage plays, children, where I have to have a very
short, little jacket. No wonder you thought a tramp was in Miss
Winkler's kitchen! Wango, are you trying to be an impersonator, such as
I used to be?" asked Mr. Treadwell, laughing and shaking his finger at
Mr. Jed Winkler's monkey.
Wango made a funny little chattering noise, and took off the wig, which
he held out to the actor.
"See, he's saying he's sorry!" exclaimed Lucile.
Next Wango took off the jacket. It was one of the costumes Mr. Treadwell
used on the stage.
"I guess he won't dress up again," said Mart. "I didn't know he was such
a performer."
"Oh, Wango is a regular pest for playing tricks!" said Miss Winkler. "I
tell Jed, every day, that I won't have the monkey around any longer, but
I always give in and let him stay. Now if he was as nice and quiet as
the parrot it would be all right."
And just then the parrot began to screech and to cry:
"No tramps allowed! Sic 'em, Towser!"
Really the parrot made more noise than Wango, but Miss Winkler did not
seem to think so.
"Well, I'm glad to get back my wig, anyhow," said Mr. Treadwell, as he
took that and the jacket from Wango. "This little monkey must have gone
in my room, found that I left my trunk open, and then he took out what
he wanted."
"Do you really think he knew he was dressing up like a tramp?" asked
Lucile.
"You never know what Wango thinks he's doing," said Miss Winkler. "But
I'm glad I caught him in time. There wouldn't have been a cookie left if
he had got his paws in the jar."
"Are there any cookies left now, Miss Winkler?" asked Bunny, with a
funny little side look at his sister.
"Oh, yes, there's a whole jar full," answered the sailor's sister.
"Are you--aren't you going to give Wango any?" asked Bunny.
"Give Wango any? Give my good sugar cookies to that monkey? Well, I
guess not!" cried Miss Winkler. Then, as she looked at Bunny and Sue, a
more gentle look came over her face.
"But I guess I'll give you children some," she said. "If it hadn't been
that you saw Wango he might have cleaned out my cupboard. Yes, I'll give
you children some cookies."
So she brought the jar from the cupboard, and not only gave some of her
cookies--which were really very good--to Bunny and Sue, but also to
Mart and Lucile. And even Mr. Treadwell had some.
As for Wango--well, I'll tell you a little secret. He had some of the
cookies, too. For when Miss Winkler wasn't looking, Bunny and Sue fed
the jolly little monkey some bits of their cake. Wango was very fond of
sweet things.
And so the lost wig was found, and Miss Winkler didn't have to drive the
gray-haired tramp out of her kitchen with a broom, for which I suppose
she was very glad.
Mr. Treadwell had time, now, to talk to Mart and the other children
about the farm play, and he told them there would have to be a number of
rehearsals, or practices, yet, before they would be ready to give a
performance Christmas afternoon.
The children were drilled over and over again in their parts, until at
last, a few days before Christmas, the actor said:
"Well, now I am satisfied. I think we are ready for the show!"
And, oh, how glad Bunny, Sue, and the others were! All their hard work
would amount to something now.
One night, about three days before Christmas, Mr. Brown came home from
the dock office one evening with Mr. Treadwell and Mart, who had
finished their work.
"I had a letter from the Home for the Blind to-day," said Mr. Brown, as
they sat at the supper table, for Mr. Treadwell had been invited to
share the meal. "The superintendent would like to have me call, so he
can tell me something about the work of the home and the poor people who
have to stay there in the darkness. He thinks if I tell the audience
that comes to see the children's play something about the Home for the
Blind more people will be glad to help."
"I think they would," said Mrs. Brown. "Why don't you go over?"
"I will," answered Mr. Brown. "There isn't much to do to-morrow, so I'll
go and take Bunny and Sue with me. Would you like to go?" he asked Mart
and Lucile.
They said they would, and the next day the five of them went over in Mr.
Brown's automobile. Mr. Treadwell was invited, but he said he had to go
to the hall to make sure all the scenery for the play was ready.
The Home for the Blind was in a big red brick building on the side of a
hill about two miles across the valley from Bellemere. It did not take
long to get there in the automobile, for though there was snow on the
ground the roads were good.
Mr. Harrison, the superintendent of the home, welcomed Mr. Brown and the
children.
"Now please don't think this is a sad place," said Mr. Harrison. "Though
the men and women and the boys and girls here can not see, they get
along very well, considering. So don't think it's too sad.
"Of course it is sad enough, but it might be worse. That's what all our
blind folk have come to think--that it might be worse. They have ways of
'seeing,' even if they have eyes that are no longer any use to them. I
just want you to go over our place, and then you will be more glad than
ever, I hope, that you are going to help us with your little play. For
we need many things. We need books, printed in the kind of type that the
blind can read, and we need many things so that our blind men and women
can work and make articles to sell. The money you are going to give us
from your play will help to buy these things."
Then, indeed, Bunny Brown and his sister Sue were very glad they had
decided to have a play, and they saw men and women and boys and girls
who did not seem to be without their sight, for they went about almost
as quickly as Bunny and Sue did.
"That's because they have learned their way," said Mr. Harrison. "Our
blind folks know their way around here just as you can walk around some
parts of your house in the dark."
He led them toward the music room, for there was one where the blind
inmates played and sang, and as Mr. Brown and the children went through
the door Lucile uttered a low cry at the sight of a man who was just
getting up from the piano.
"Uncle Bill!" cried Lucile. "Uncle Bill! Oh, we have found you at
last!"