The Cookbook Diary



Rebecca Mary decided to keep a diary. It was not an inspiration,
though it was rather like one in its suddenness. Of course she had
always known that Aunt Olivia kept a diary. When she was very small
she had stretched a-tiptoe and with little pointing forefinger counted
rows and rows of little black books that Aunt Olivia had "kept."
Each little black book had its year-label pasted neatly on the back.
Rebecca Mary breathed deep 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withdrawn the book at "Thirsdy," and a tidal-wave of warm red blood