Bunny Brown and his Sister Sue Giving a Show Part 22

"Oh, yes!" cried Sue.

"Can't we go in the pony sled?" Bunny asked. "There's enough snow to make it slip easy now."

"Yes, I guess we could go in the pony sled," agreed Mart. "And we can stop at Mr. Winkler's and ask Mr. Treadwell, if he's at home, if he wants us to come to rehearsal to-night."

Soon Bunny, Sue, Mart, and Lucile were riding down the street in the pony sled, having a fine time in the snow storm. It was quite a heavy fall of snow, but the weather was not very cold.

After mailing the letter the four children drove to the home of Mr.

Winkler.

"I hope the monkey does something queer," said Bunny.

"I wish the parrot would sing a funny song!" exclaimed Sue.

"Something seems to be the matter, anyhow," said Lucile, as they got out of the little sled and walked toward the front door of Mr. Winkler's house, where the actor boarded. "Look at Miss Winkler running around,"

and she pointed to the sister of the old sailor. Miss Winkler could be seen hurrying about the room from one window to another.

"Do you want us all to come to practice to-night, Mr. Treadwell?" asked Mart, as he and the children entered the house and saw the actor hurrying around after Miss Winkler.

"Come to practice? Oh, I don't know!" was the answer. "I can't talk to you right away, Mart. Something has happened!"

"What is it?" asked Lucile. "Have you heard anything about----?"

"Oh, it isn't about your kin, I'm sorry to say," was the actor's answer.

"It's just that one of my best wigs is missing--the one I wear when I dress up like General Washington. Those wigs are scarce, and I hardly ever let it out of my box. But now it is gone!"

"And I've searched high and low for it all over this house, but I can't find it!" said Miss Winkler.

Bunny and Sue did not know quite what to make of all the excitement over the lost wig which Mr. Treadwell wore on his head in certain parts of the play. So they stood to one side while the search went on. Sue looked in the sitting room, while Mr. Treadwell and Miss Winkler went into the parlor that was hardly ever opened.

Something that Bunny saw in a chair in front of the kitchen stove made him call out:

"Oh, Miss Winkler! there's a funny old man in your kitchen, and he's trying to open the cupboard door where you keep the cookies. Come and see the funny old man!"

CHAPTER XIX

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.

"w.a.n.go! 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 w.a.n.go?" 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 w.a.n.go!"

She pointed to the monkey, which, just then, ran around from behind the chair on which he had been standing. And, surely enough w.a.n.go had on the big, white wig for which Mr. Treadwell and Miss Winkler had been searching so long. The wig made w.a.n.go 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! w.a.n.go, 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.

w.a.n.go made a funny little chattering noise, and took off the wig, which he held out to the actor.