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Wednesday
We climbed Sky Hill Monday afternoon. That's a mountain near here; not an awfully high mountain, perhaps— no snow on the summit— but at least you are pretty breathless when you reach the top. 
The lower slopes are covered with woods, but the top is just piled rocks and open moor. 
We stayed up for the sunset and built a fire and cooked our supper. Master Jervie did the cooking; he said he knew how better than me and he did, too, because he's used to camping. 
Then we came down by moonlight, and, when we reached the wood trail where it was dark, by the light of an electric bulb that he had in his pocket. 
It was such fun! He laughed and joked all the way and talked about interesting things. 
He's read all the books I've ever read, and a lot of others besides. It's astonishing how many different things he knows.
We went for a long tramp this morning and got caught in a storm. Our clothes were drenched before we reached home but our spirits not even damp. 
You should have seen Mrs. Semple's face when we dripped into her kitchen. 
'Oh, Master Jervie— Miss Judy! You are soaked through. Dear! Dear! What shall I do? That nice new coat is perfectly ruined.'
She was awfully funny; you would have thought that we were ten years old, and she a distracted mother. 
I was afraid for a while that we weren't going to get any jam for tea.

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