But every one did his or her best, and soon it was felt that the play was coming on “in fine shape,” as the actor said.  It was easier for Mart and Lucile to learn their parts, as they were used to appearing on the stage.

When the children were not practicing they had fun on the snow and ice, for winter had set in early that year, and there was plenty of coasting and skating.

One day Mart and his sister came back to the Brown house, having been downtown to see how the new hall for the play was coming on—­Raymond Hall it was to be called.

“Is it ’most ready?” asked Bunny, who opened the door for the boy acrobat and his singing sister.

“Yes,” was the answer.  “Mr. Raymond has had the stage built and they are putting in the seats to-day.  Was there any mail for us, Bunny?” Mart asked.

“No,” answered the little boy.

“Oh dear!” sighed Lucile.  “I don’t believe we’ll ever hear from our folks.  I guess they’ve forgotten us!”

“Maybe you’ll hear at Christmas,” said Sue softly.  “You get things at Christmas you don’t get in all the year, and maybe you’ll get the letter you want, Lucile.”

“I hope so,” was the answer.  “It’s lonesome not to have any folks writing to you.  But of course we love it here!” she made haste to add, for indeed the Browns were very kind to the boy and the girl, and also to Mr. Treadwell, who seemed to like it in Bellemere.

At last the new hall was finished, the farm scenery Mr. Brown had bought was moved in, and one bright, sunny day, with the sparkling white snow on the ground outside, the boys and girls gathered over the hardware store for practice.

“Now we will try the first act,” said Mr. Treadwell, when the meadow scene had been set up on the stage, and it “looked as real as anything!” as Sue whispered to Sadie West.

“Take your places!” said the actor.  “Remember now, Bunny and Sue are supposed to be picking daisies in the meadow, and you other children are picking buttercups.  All at once an old tramp comes along the road—­which is the front of the stage, as I’ve told you.”

“Oh, I don’t want to play if there’s going to be an old twamp in it!” exclaimed little Belle Hanson.  “I don’t like twamps!  They’s awful dirty!”

“It isn’t a real tramp,” said Mr. Treadwell.  “I dress up like one, Belle,” for he had arranged to have a number of costumes for himself so he could take different parts in the little play.

“Well, if it’s just a play twamp all wight,” said Belle.  “They’s wagged maybe, but not dirty.”

The children were told what they must do and say for the first act.  They had practiced it over and over again, but even then some of them would forget at times.

“Now we’re all ready,” said Mr. Treadwell, at length.  “Start to pick daisies, Bunny and Sue, and the rest of you pick buttercups.  Then I’ll make believe I’m a tramp and come along the road.”