"He came! He came!" she screamed, as a tousled, flame-colored head showed at the window opposite. Hannah brushed by her parents and, running to the window nearest Virginia's room, repeated her message. Then she came back into the nursery, still oblivious of mother and father, and stared about her in ecstasy. The occasion called for some expression of thanksgiving--what could it be? A seven-year-old child hasn't words for such a big emotion. She could think of but one thing to do. Reverently bowing her little bronze head, she made the sign of the cross--upside down! THE END End of Project Gutenberg's The Little Mixer, by Lillian Nicholson Shearon