up
an entertainment and they made 'most fifty dollars for the Blind Home."

"I hope we can make as much," said Lucile. "It's dreadful to be blind. I
feel so sorry for our Uncle Bill. I wish we could find him."

"And I wish we could find Uncle Simon and Aunt Sallie," added Mart. "But
still we like it here," he hastened to add, lest Bunny and Sue might
think he and his sister did not care for all that Mr. and Mrs. Brown had
done for them.

In the week that followed Mr. Treadwell, when he was not working in Mr.
Brown's office, keeping books, wrote away at the little play. Mart, too,
when he was not busy at the dock, helping Bunker Blue, did what he could
to get ready for the show. The children did not tell any one except
their fathers and mothers what it was to be about.

"It must be a secret," said Bunny Brown. "Then everybody will buy a
ticket to come and see it."

"But where are we going to have the show?" asked Sue of Bunny one night.

"I don't know," Bunny answered.

"I must begin to look around for a place for you," said Mr. Brown. "I
did think we could use the old moving picture theater, but that has been
sold and is being torn down. But we'll find some place. How are you
coming on with the children's play?" he asked the impersonator.

"Very well, I think," was the answer. "We'll soon be ready for a trial,
or rehearsal, as it is called. Have you heard anything about the uncle
and aunt of Mart and Lucile?" he asked.

"No," replied Mr. Brown, "I haven't. I have written several letters
hoping to get some word, but I haven't as yet. I can't even find out
where Mr. and Mrs. Jackson are. They might have found the address of the
children's Aunt Sallie and Uncle Simon. But Jackson seems to have
vanished after his show failed."

"Yes, that often happens," said Mr. Treadwell.

"If we could only find our Uncle Bill he could tell us just what we want
to know," said Mart. "But I don't know where he is."

"Could he, by any chance, be in this Blind Home just outside of your
town?" asked the actor.

"No, I thought of that, and inquired," said Mr. Brown. "There is no
person named Clayton in the place. Well, we'll just keep on hoping."

The weather was now getting colder. Thanksgiving came, and there were
jolly good times in the Brown home. Mart and Lucile said they had never
had such a happy holiday since their own folks were with them, and Mr.
Treadwell, who was invited to dinner, told such funny jokes and stories,