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Show ffTf1 MUST be a little lo"e'y for i you here," said Mrs. O.irter to Millie, who was cutting up rais- : Ins In a bowl. "Oh, no. I like It." i "But you know so few people; even we are strangers to you. You've couie from so far to help me, and It worries me. 1 want you to be happy and contented con-tented with us." Millie flung her cloud of dark curls over her shoulder. "Worries you, Mrs. Carter?" She was round-eyed with as- ; tonishment. "I wouldn't know how to start worrying 1 1 like It here, fine." Mrs. Carter felt gently rebuked, j That night she mentioned Millie to her husband. "Here she is. Charles ; eight-teen eight-teen years old, no father, no mother, no money, no home, but where the State Commission chooses to send her, and she says, Charles, she wouldn't even know how to start worrying. Isn't it pathetic?" "1 don't see how it's in the least pathetic," pa-thetic," said her husband briskly. "I think it's darn good philosophy. She doesn't use up her energy wondering what will happen to her; she works hard, looks forward, never backward, , and always manages to squeeze fun out of the smallest things. I say. Her Basket Bulged and She Could Scarcely Speak. hooray for Millie !" "But It's Christmas time, Charles. We can give her so little; she needs so much. It worries me." . . "There you go again, doing the very thing she doesn't even know about. Give her what you can and be sure - she'll take it with gratitude and Joy." Millie fairly sparkled on Christmas Eve. She had baked bread and pudding pud-ding and made three pies. She had scoured the house until it shone. She bad even helped Mrs. Carter to wrap up gifts for the neighborhood. "Do . let me take them. It's fun," she begged. "1 love seeing how happy people peo-ple are In their houses." So Millie started out with a large basketful of gifts. "Poor little girl," sighed Mrs. Carter. "Everything for Other people; none for herself." '. At nine o'clock Millie was home again, cheeks red. hair blowing, looking, look-ing, as ' Mr. Carter said, like one grand big time all by herself. Her basket bulged and she could scarcely speak for excitement. "Oh, Mrs. Carter, Car-ter, there must be some mistake . . . but everywhere I went they gave me a present ... all these ... I don't understand !" She appealed to her mistress to come look for herself. On every package was "For Millie." "You see," explained a friend next day, "we simply could not resist giving her something. She looked so happy when she brought the things ... we couldn't help ourselves, and I Judge every one else felt the same way." "Tut-tut for all your worry!" grinned Mr. Carter when informed of the miracle. |