“No indeed!” laughed Mr. Clayton.  “I never thought of that.  But I suppose some bad people like to make faces at me, and, as you say, if ever they do I sha’n’t see them.”

“I don’t guess anybody would make faces at you when you play on the piano,” said Bunny Brown.

“I don’t guess so, either,” added Sue.

There was more talk, and then it was time for Mr. Brown and the children to go back home.  Mr. Clayton promised to write a telegram to Lucile’s other uncle and aunt.  He could write even though he was blind, and Mr. Harrison, at the Home for the Blind, promised to send the message.

“Then you’ll hear from Uncle Simon and Aunt Sallie soon,” said the blind man.

“I hope we hear before the play!” exclaimed Lucile.  “It will make me so much happier when I sing.”

“Perhaps you’ll come over to the hall the night or the performance,” suggested Mr. Brown to Mr. Clayton.  “You can hear what goes on.”

“I’ll try to come,” agreed the blind man.

Very happy, now that they had found their uncle, Mart and Lucile went home with Mr. Brown, Bunny, and Sue, promising to come often again to see Mr. Clayton.

“Wasn’t it queer,” said Mart, “that, after all, he should come to the same Home we’re going to help with the farm play?”

“Very strange, indeed,” said Mr. Brown.

“And now, if we can only get word from Uncle Simon and Aunt Sallie, how happy we’ll be!” exclaimed Lucile.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll hear soon, my dear,” said Mrs. Brown when they had reached home and told her the good news.

Then followed a time of anxious waiting, with Lucile and Mart looking almost every hour for a message from their uncle and aunt so far away.  And they and the other children were kept busy getting ready for the play.  For it was almost Christmas and time for the great performance.

The tickets had been printed, and all the mistakes corrected in the type that Charlie Star had set up.  Many tickets had been sold, and it looked as though everything would be all right.

“I do hope we won’t make any mistakes,” said Bunny to his sister one day, as they were talking about the coming play.

“I hope so, too,” she answered.  “Wouldn’t it be terrible if we got on the stage and forgot what we were going to say?”

“Yes, it would,” agreed Bunny.  “I’m going to keep on saying my lines over and over again all the while.  Then I won’t forget.”

“Don’t be too anxious, my dears,” said Mrs. Brown, as she heard the children talking this way.  “Sometimes the more you try to remember things like that, the more easily you forget.  Just do your best, put your whole mind on it, and I’m sure you will remember the right words to say, and the right actions to do.”

“It’s easier to remember what to do than what to say,” declared Bunny.  “Mr. Treadwell tells us to act just as we would if we weren’t on the stage, but of course we can’t say anything we happen to think of—­we have to say the right words.”