said Sue.

"Indeed he did," chimed in Mart and Lucile Clayton.

Just then Mr. Treadwell came through the hall into the kitchen.

"It's no use, Miss Winkler," he said. "I can't find my big wig anywhere.
If I use one like if in the play I'll have to send to New York for
another. My wig is lost."

"No, it isn't, either!" exclaimed Miss Winkler. "There it is--on Wango!"

She pointed to the monkey, which, just then, ran around from behind the
chair on which he had been standing. And, surely enough Wango had on the
big, white wig for which Mr. Treadwell and Miss Winkler had been
searching so long. The wig made Wango look like an old man.

"And he has on one of my jackets, too!" exclaimed the actor. "It's one I
use in some of my stage plays, children, where I have to have a very
short, little jacket. No wonder you thought a tramp was in Miss
Winkler's kitchen! Wango, are you trying to be an impersonator, such as
I used to be?" asked Mr. Treadwell, laughing and shaking his finger at
Mr. Jed Winkler's monkey.

Wango made a funny little chattering noise, and took off the wig, which
he held out to the actor.

"See, he's saying he's sorry!" exclaimed Lucile.

Next Wango took off the jacket. It was one of the costumes Mr. Treadwell
used on the stage.

"I guess he won't dress up again," said Mart. "I didn't know he was such
a performer."

"Oh, Wango is a regular pest for playing tricks!" said Miss Winkler. "I
tell Jed, every day, that I won't have the monkey around any longer, but
I always give in and let him stay. Now if he was as nice and quiet as
the parrot it would be all right."

And just then the parrot began to screech and to cry:

"No tramps allowed! Sic 'em, Towser!"

Really the parrot made more noise than Wango, but Miss Winkler did not
seem to think so.

"Well, I'm glad to get back my wig, anyhow," said Mr. Treadwell, as he
took that and the jacket from Wango. "This little monkey must have gone
in my room, found that I left my trunk open, and then he took out what
he wanted."

"Do you really think he knew he was dressing up like a tramp?" asked
Lucile.

"You never know what Wango thinks he's doing," said Miss Winkler. "But
I'm glad I caught him in time. There wouldn't have been a cookie left if
he had got his paws in the jar."

"Are there any cookies left now, Miss Winkler?" asked Bunny, with a
funny little side look at his sister.

"Oh, yes, there's a whole jar full," answered the sailor's sister