The little boy told.

“Yes, put him down in the cellar,” said Mr. Raymond.  “That ought to keep him quiet.  I’ll turn on the electric lights down there for you, so you can see.  Otherwise you might tumble downstairs in the dark.”

Bunny had been down in the hardware store cellar before, once when his father was looking at a certain piece of iron for a boat, the iron being stowed away down in the basement, and at other times, when he himself wanted to buy some odds or ends from the hardware man to make some toy.  So Bunny knew his way down into the cellar.

“I’ll come and get you after the play,” said Bunny to Peter, as he set the basket, with the rooster in it, on a big box.

Peter didn’t answer.  He didn’t even crow.  I guess he didn’t like the dark.  He might have thought it was night, when the electric lights were turned out after Bunny had gone upstairs, and Peter may have gone to roost.

Bunny tramped upstairs and went on with his parts in the play.  Everything went along nicely, and every one said the last act, the one in the orchard, was fine.  Bunny and Sue did well, as did Lucile, Mart and the others.

“I wish we could think of some way so my rooster would only crow at the right time,” said George, when talking to Bunny, after the rehearsal was over.

Bunny Brown wished so, too, for he wanted the little play to be as real as it could, so the people who saw it would be glad they had come to pay money to help the Home for the Blind.

Mr. Clayton sent word from the Home that he would surely be on hand at the performance Christmas afternoon.  He also said he had not yet received any word from the other uncle and aunt of the two vaudeville children.

“Oh, dear,” sighed Lucile on Christmas eve, as she and her brother sat in the Brown home, “I do hope we can find Uncle Simon and Aunt Sallie!”

“So do I hope you do,” said Sue.  “But, oh, won’t we have fun to-morrow at the play!  And to-morrow is Christmas.  I’m going to hang up my stocking.  Are you going to hang up your stocking?” she asked Mart and Lucile.

“Well, I don’t know,” answered the boy slowly.  “I guess, seeing that we haven’t heard from Uncle Simon and Aunt Sallie yet, that maybe it wouldn’t be any use for us to hang up our stockings, Sue.”

“Oh, I think it would,” said Mrs. Brown, with a funny little smile.  “You tell Mart and Lucile to hang them up, Sue.  I don’t believe Santa Claus will forget them.”

“There!” cried Sue.  “You must do as mother says.  Come on, Bunny!” she added.  “Let’s get our stockings ready, and we’ll go to bed early.  Christmas will come sooner then.  Why, where’s Bunny?” she asked, as she looked out in the kitchen where she had last seen her brother.  “Bunny!” she called.  “Come on, hang up our stockings!”

But Bunny Brown did not answer.

“Bunny isn’t here!” said Sue.  “Where is Bunny?”