Meanwhile she drank the glass of milk offered by the sympathising old Highland woman, who evidently approved of the adventurous English girl, then sat down to rest beside Little Sunny.
But Sunny had no idea of resting. She never has, unless in bed and asleep. Now she was bent upon also climbing a mountain,—a granite boulder about three feet high.
“Look, mamma, look at Sunny! Sunny’s going to climb a mountain, like Lizzie.”
Up she scrambled, with both arms and legs,—catching at the edges of the boulder, but tumbling back again and again. Still she was not daunted.
“Don’t help me!—don’t help me!” she kept saying. “Sunny wants to climb a mountain all by her own self.”
Which feat she accomplished at last, and succeeded in standing upright on the top of the boulder, very hot, very tired, but triumphant.
“Look, mamma! Look at Sunny! Here she is!”
Mamma looked; in fact had been looking out of the corner of her eye the whole time, though not assisting at all in the courageous effort.
“Yes, I see. Sunny has climbed a mountain. Clever little girl! Mamma is so pleased!”