Everything was being made ready for the show which would be given Christmas afternoon. The children could hardly wait for the time to come, but, of course, they had to. Meanwhile, they had as much fun as they could when they were not at school or practicing their parts in the new hall built over the hardware store.
"How happy we could be living here and going to take part in a nice play if we only knew where our people were," said Lucile to her brother Mart one day.
"Yes, that's all we need to make us quite happy," said he. "But I guess we'll never see our uncles or Aunt Sallie again. Why, we haven't even heard from Mr. Jackson since our vaudeville show busted up.
"Well, I'm going to write just one more letter," went on Mart, and he got out pen, ink, and paper. "I'm going to write to that man in New York who used to act in the same play with Uncle Simon. Mr. Treadwell found that man's address the other day, and I'm going to write to him. He may know where Uncle Simon and Aunt Sallie are."
"Does he know where Uncle Bill is?" asked. Lucile.
"I don't know. I'll ask him," decided Mart.
When the letter had been written Bunny and Sue came in from school. It was snowing again, and the ground was white with the beautiful flakes. The coats of Bunny and Sue were also covered, for they had been throwing snowballs at one another. Their cheeks were red and their eyes sparkling.
"Want to walk down the street with me while I mail this letter?" asked Mart of the two children.
"Oh, yes!" cried Sue.
"Can't we go in the pony sled?" Bunny asked. "There's enough snow to make it slip easy now."