eep breaths of awe, there were so many of them. There must be so much
weather in those little black books--so many pleasant days, rainy days,
storms, and snows!

It was Rebecca Mary who remembered that it was Tuesday, and that it had
showered a little Wednesday--shone Thursday--showered again on Friday.
Rebecca Mary was the jog to Aunt Olivia's memory. It gave her now, at
the beginning of her own diary career, an experienced feeling, as if she
knew already how to keep a diary. It made it seem a much simpler matter
to begin.

And then, of course, the minister's littlest little boy--really it was
the minister's littlest little boy who had started Rebecca Mary. He had
volunteered a peep into his own diary, and made whispered explanations
and suggestions. He let Rebecca Mary read some of the entries: "MUNDY,
plesent and good. TUSDY, rany and bad. WENSDY, sum plesent and not
good enuf to hirt. THIRSDY" but he had hastily withdrawn the book at
"Thirsdy," and a tidal-wave of warm red blood had flowed up over his
little brown ears and in around all the little brown islands of his
freckles. So Rebecca Mary had begun hastily to talk of other things.
For the minister's littlest little boy had explained that the first
Statement in each entry referred to the weather and the second to the
deportment of the writer, and Rebecca Mary had remarked a sympathetic
resemblance between the two statements. She had caught a fleeting
glimpse of the weather part of "Thirsdy"--she could guess the rest.
Better let the curtain fall on "Thirsdy." On her way home Rebecca Mary
decided to keep a diary herself. Her first day's record had been a good
deal like the "Mundy" of the minister's littlest little boy, only there
were more a's in the weather. After that, little by little, she branched
out into a certain originality--the Rebecca Mary sort. If she had
not been hampered by circumstances, it would have been easier to be
original. The most hampering circumstance was the cookbook itself, which
she was driven to use in her new undertaking. There was room on the
blank leaves and above and below the recipes for cake and pudding
and pie. The book was one Aunt Olivia had given her long ago to draw
impossible pictures in.

In the beginning Rebecca Mary tried pasting pieces of "empty" paper
over the pies and puddings and cakes, but the empty paper was too
transparent. In rather startling places things were liable to show
through.

As: "SUNDAY.--It rained