“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.”