Heidi

CHAPTER VI
CLARA, THE PATIENT LITTLE INVALID

Miss Rottermeyer rose slowly and went up to the little new companion for the daughter of the house, to see what she was like. She did not seem very pleased with her appearance. Heidi was dressed in her plain little woolen frock, and her hat was an old straw one bent out of shape. The child looked innocently out from beneath it, gazing with unconcealed astonishment at the lady's towering head dress.

"What is your name?" asked Miss Rottermeyer, after examining the child for some minutes, while Heidi in return kept her eyes steadily fixed upon the lady.

"Heidi," she answered in a clear, ringing voice.

"What? what? that's no Christian name for a child; you were not christened that. What name did they give you when you were baptized?" continued Miss Rottermeyer.

"I do not remember," replied Heidi.

"What a way to answer!" said the lady, shaking her head. "Dete, is the child a simpleton or only saucy?"

"If the lady will allow me, I will speak for the child, for she is very unaccustomed to strangers," said Dete, who had given Heidi a silent poke for making such an unsuitable answer. "She is certainly not stupid nor yet saucy, she speaks exactly as she thinks. This is the first time she has ever been in a gentleman's house and she does not know good manners; but she is very willing to learn. She was christened Adelaide, after her mother, my sister, who is now dead."

"Well, that's a name that one can pronounce," remarked Miss Rottermeyer. "But I must tell you, Dete, that I am astonished to see so young a child. I told you that I wanted a companion of the same age as the young lady of the house, one who could share her lessons, and all her other occupations. Miss Clara is now over twelve; what age is this child?"

"If the lady will allow me," began Dete again, in her usual fluent manner, "I myself had lost count of her exact age; she is certainly a little younger, but not much; I cannot say precisely, but I think she is ten, or thereabouts."

"Grandfather told me I was eight," put in Heidi. Dete gave her another poke, but as the child had not the least idea why she did so she was not at all confused.

"What—only eight!" cried Miss Rottermeyer angrily. "Four years too young! Of what use is such a child! And what have you learnt? What books did you have to learn from?"

"None," said Heidi.

"How? what? How then did you learn to read?" continued the lady.

"I have never learnt to read, or Peter either," Heidi informed her.

"Mercy upon us! you do not know how to read! is it really so?" exclaimed Miss Rottermeyer, greatly horrified. "Is it possible—not able to read? What have you learnt then?"

"Nothing," said Heidi with unflinching truthfulness.

"Young woman," said the lady to Dete, "this is not at all the sort of companion we want. How could you think of bringing me a child like this?"

But Dete was not to be put down so easily, and answered warmly, "If you will allow me, the child is exactly what I thought you required; she is unlike all other children, and I thought this child seemed as if made for the place. But I must go now, for my mistress will be waiting for me; if you will permit I will come again soon and see how she is getting on." And with a bow Dete quickly left the room and ran downstairs. Miss Rottermeyer stood for a moment taken aback and then ran after Dete. But she had disappeared out the front door.

Heidi remained where she had been standing since she first came in. Clara had looked on during the interview without speaking; now she beckoned to Heidi and said, "Come here!"

Heidi went up to her.

"Would you rather be called Heidi or Adelaide?" asked Clara.

"I am never called anything but Heidi," was the child's prompt answer.

"Then I shall always call you by that name," said Clara, "it suits you. I have never heard it before, but neither have I ever seen a child like you before. Have you always had that short curly hair?"

"Yes, I think so," said Heidi.

"Are you pleased to come to Frankfurt?" went on Clara.

"No, but I shall go home again tomorrow and take grandmother a white loaf," explained Heidi.

"Well, you are a funny child!" exclaimed Clara. "Don't you know you were sent for to come here and stay with me and share my lessons? They are dreadfully dull, and I think the morning will never pass away. My tutor comes every morning at about ten o'clock, and then we go on with lessons till two, and it does seem such a long time. Sometimes he takes up the book and holds it close up to his face, as if he were very short-sighted, but I know it's only because he wants to gape, and Miss Rottermeyer takes her large handkerchief out also now and then and covers her face with it, as if she was moved by what we had been reading, but that is only because she is longing to gape too. And I myself often want to gape, but I dare not, for if Miss Rottermeyer sees me gaping she runs off at once and fetches the cod-liver oil and says I must have a dose, as I am getting weak again, and the cod-liver oil is horrible. But now it will be much more amusing, for I shall be able to lie back and listen while you learn to read."

Heidi shook her head doubtfully when she heard of learning to read.

"Oh, nonsense, Heidi, of course you must learn to read, everybody must, and my tutor is very kind, and never cross, and he will explain everything to you. But mind, when he explains anything to you, you won't be able to understand; but don't ask any questions, or else he will go on explaining and you will understand less than ever. Later, when you have learnt more and know about things yourself, then you will begin to understand what he meant."

Miss Rottermeyer now came back into the room; she had not been able to overtake Dete, and was evidently very much put out. She walked backwards and forwards in a state of agitation between the study and the dining-room, and began scolding the butler. "Make haste, Sebastian, or we shall get no dinner today at all," she said.

Then hurrying out, she called to Tinette to see that the bed-room was prepared for the little girl who had just arrived.

Meanwhile Sebastian had flung open the folding doors leading into the dining-room with rather more noise than he need, for he was feeling cross, although he did not dare answer back when Miss Rottermeyer spoke to him; he went up to Clara's chair to wheel her into the next room. Heidi stood staring at him. Seeing her eyes fixed upon him, he suddenly growled out, "Well, what is there in me to stare at like that?" which he would certainly not have done if he had been aware that Miss Rottermeyer was just then entering the room. "You look so like Peter," answered Heidi. The housekeeper clasped her hands in horror. "Is it possible!" she stammered half-aloud, "she is now addressing the servant as if he were a friend! I never could have imagined such a child!"

Sebastian wheeled the couch into the dining-room and helped Clara on to her chair. Miss Rottermeyer took the seat beside her and made a sign to Heidi to take the one opposite. Beside Heidi's plate lay a nice white roll, and her eyes lighted up with pleasure as she saw it. When Sebastian came up to her side and handed her the dish of fish, she looked at the roll and asked, "Can I have it?" Sebastian nodded, and Heidi immediately seized the roll and put it in her pocket. Sebastian still remained standing beside Heidi; it was not his duty to speak, nor to move away until she had helped herself. Heidi looked wonderingly at him for a minute or two, and then said, "Am I to eat some of that too?" Sebastian nodded again. "Give me some then," she said, looking calmly at her plate.

"I see I shall have to teach you the first rules of behavior," said the housekeeper with a sigh. "You must not speak to Sebastian at table, or at any other time, unless you have an order to give him, and then you are not to address him as if he was some one belonging to you. Never let me hear you speak to him in that way again! It is the same with Tinette, and for myself you are to address me as you hear others doing. Clara must herself decide what you are to call her."

"Why, Clara, of course," put in the latter. Then followed a long list of rules as to general behavior, during the course of which Heidi's eyes gradually closed, for she had been up before five o'clock that morning and had had a long journey. She leaned back in her chair and fell fast asleep. Miss Rottermeyer having at last come to the end of her lecture said, "Now remember what I have said, Adelaide! Have you understood it all?"

"Heidi has been asleep for ever so long," said Clara, her face rippling all over with amusement, for she had not had such an entertaining dinner for a long time.

"It is really insupportable what one has to go through with this child," exclaimed Miss Rottermeyer, in great indignation, and she rang the bell so violently that Tinette and Sebastian both came running in; but no noise was sufficient to wake Heidi, and it was with difficulty that they roused her sufficiently to get her to her bed-room.

CHAPTER VII
THE UNFRIENDLY HOUSEKEEPER

When Heidi opened her eyes on her first morning in Frankfurt she could not think where she was. Then she rubbed them and looked about her. She was sitting up in a high white bed, in a large, wide room with very long white curtains; near the window stood two chairs covered with large flowered material and then came a sofa with the same flowers, in front of which was a round table; in the corner was a washstand, with things upon it that Heidi had never seen in her life before. But now all at once she remembered that she was in Frankfurt. She jumped out of bed and dressed herself; then she ran first to one window and then another; she wanted to see the sky and country outside; she felt like a bird in a cage behind those great curtains. But they were too heavy for her to put aside, so she crept underneath them to get to the window. But she could see nothing but walls and windows. She felt quite frightened and ran backwards and forwards, trying to open first one and then the other of the windows, for she felt that somewhere outside there must be the green grass, and the last unmelted snows on the mountain slopes. But the windows remained immovable, try what Heidi would to open them. Suddenly there was a knock on the door, and immediately after Tinette put her head inside and said, "Breakfast is ready." Heidi had no idea what an invitation so worded meant, and Tinette's face did not encourage any questioning on Heidi's part. Heidi was sharp enough to read its expression and acted accordingly. So she drew a little stool out from under the table, put it in the corner and sat down upon it, and there silently awaited what would happen next. Shortly after, Miss Rottermeyer appeared. She seemed very much put out, and called to Heidi, "What is the matter with you, Adelaide? Don't you understand what breakfast is? Come along at once!"

Heidi had no difficulty in understanding now and followed at once. Clara gave her a kindly greeting, her face looking considerably more cheerful than usual, for she looked forward to all kinds of new things happening again that day. Breakfast passed off quietly; Heidi ate her bread and butter in a perfectly correct manner, and when the meal was over and Clara wheeled back into the study, Miss Rottermeyer told her to follow and remain with Clara until the tutor should arrive and lessons begin.

As soon as the children were alone again, Heidi asked, "How can one see out from here, and look right down on to the ground?"

"You must open the window and look out," replied Clara amused.

"But the windows won't open," responded Heidi sadly.

"Yes, they will," Clara assured her. "You cannot open them, nor I either, but when you see Sebastian you can ask him to open one."

It was a great relief to Heidi to know that the windows could be opened and that one could look out. Clara now began to ask her questions about her home, and Heidi was delighted to tell her all about the mountain and the goats, and the flowery meadows.

Meanwhile her tutor had arrived; Miss Rottermeyer, however, did not bring him straight into the study but drew him first aside into the dining-room, where she poured forth her troubles. It appeared that she had written some time back to Mr. Sesemann to tell him that his daughter very much desired to have a companion. Miss Rottermeyer had wished for this arrangement on her own behalf, as it would relieve her from having always to entertain the sick girl. The father had answered that he was quite willing to let his daughter have a companion, provided she was treated in every way like his own child. But now she went on to explain how dreadfully she had been taken in about the child, and related all the unimaginable things of which she had already been guilty, so that not only would he have to begin with teaching her the A B C, but would have to start with the most rudimentary instruction as regarded everything to do with daily life. She could see only one way out of this disastrous state of affairs, and that was for the tutor to declare that it was impossible for the two to learn together without detriment to Clara, who was so far ahead of the other; that would be a good excuse for getting rid of the child. But she dared not send her home without Mr. Sesemann's order, since he was aware that by this time the companion had arrived. The tutor was a cautious man and said that if the little girl was backward in some things she was probably advanced in others, and a little regular teaching would soon set the balance right. When Miss Rottermeyer saw that he was not ready to support her, and evidently quite ready to undertake teaching the alphabet, she opened the study door, which she quickly shut again as soon as he had gone through remaining on the other side herself, for she had a perfect horror of the A B C. She walked up and down the dining-room, thinking over in her own mind how the servants were to be told to address Adelaide. The father had written that she was to be treated exactly like his own daughter, and this would especially refer, she imagined, to the servants. She was not allowed, however, a very long interval of time for consideration, for suddenly the sound of a frightful crash was heard in the study, followed by frantic cries for Sebastian. She rushed into the room. There on the floor lay in a confused heap, books, exercise-books and inkstand, with the table-cloth on the top, while from beneath them a dark stream of ink was flowing all across the floor. Heidi had disappeared.

"Here's a state of things!" exclaimed Miss Rottermeyer. "Table-cloth, books, work-basket, everything lying in the ink! It was that unfortunate child, I suppose!"

"Yes, Heidi did it," explained Clara, "but quite by accident; she must on no account be punished; she jumped up in such violent haste to get away that she dragged the table-cloth along with her, and so everything went over. There were a number of vehicles passing, that is why she rushed off like that; perhaps she has never seen a carriage."

"Is it not as I said? She has not the smallest notion about anything! But where is the child who has caused all this trouble? Surely she has not run away! What would Mr. Sesemann say to me?" She ran out of the room and down the stairs. There, at the bottom, standing in the open doorway, was Heidi, looking in amazement up and down the street.

"What are you doing? What are you thinking of to run away like that?" called Miss Rottermeyer.

"I heard the sound of the fir trees, but I cannot see where they are, and now I cannot hear them any more," answered Heidi, looking disappointedly in the direction whence the noise of the passing carriages had reached her, and which to Heidi had seemed like the blowing of the south wind in the trees, so that in great joy of heart she had rushed out to look at them.

"Fir trees! do you suppose we are in the woods? What ridiculous ideas are these? Come upstairs and see the mischief you have done!"

Heidi followed Miss Rottermeyer upstairs; she was quite astonished to see the disaster she had caused, for in her joy and haste to get to the fir trees she had been unaware of having dragged everything after her.

"I excuse you doing this as it is the first time, but do not let me hear of you doing it a second time," said Miss Rottermeyer pointing to the floor. "During your lesson time you are to sit still and attend. If you cannot do this I shall have to tie you to your chair. Do you understand?"

"Yes," replied Heidi, "but I will certainly not move again," for now she understood that it was a rule to sit still while she was being taught.

When Clara had been placed on her couch after dinner, and the housekeeper had retired to her room, Heidi waited for Sebastian who was coming up from the kitchen with a tray of silver tea-things, which he had to put away in the dining-room cupboard. As he reached the top stair Heidi went up to him and addressed him in the formal manner she had been ordered to use by Miss Rottermeyer.

Sebastian looked surprised and said somewhat curtly, "What is it you want, miss?"

"How can a window be opened?"

"Why, like that!" and Sebastian flung up one of the large windows.

Heidi ran to it, but she was not tall enough to see out, for her head only reached the sill.

"There, now miss can look out and see what is going on below," said Sebastian as he brought her a high wooden stool to stand on.

Heidi climbed up, and at last, as she thought, was going to see what she had been longing for. But she drew back her head with a look of great disappointment on her face.

"Why, there is nothing outside but the stony streets," she said mournfully; "but if I went right round to the other side of the house what should I see there, Sebastian?"

"Nothing but what you see here," he told her.

"Then where can I go to see right away over the whole valley?"

"You would have to climb to the top of a high tower, a church tower, like that one over there with the gold ball above it."

Heidi got down quickly from her stool, ran to the door, down the steps and out into the street. She passed a great many people, but they all seemed in such a hurry that Heidi thought they had not time to tell her which way to go. Then suddenly at one of the street corners she saw a boy carrying a hand-organ on his back and a funny-looking animal on his arm. Heidi ran up to him and said, "Where is the tower with the gold ball on the top?"

"I don't know," was the answer.

"Do you know any other church with a high tower?"

"Yes, I know one."

"Come then and show it me."

"Show me first what you will give me," and the boy held out his hand as he spoke. Heidi searched about in her pocket and presently drew out a card on which was painted a garland of beautiful red roses; she looked at it first for a moment or two, for she felt rather sorry to part with it; Clara had only that morning made her a present of it—but then, to look down into the valley and see all the lovely green slopes! "There," said Heidi holding out the card, "would you like to have that?"

The boy drew back his hand and shook his head.

"What would you like then?" asked Heidi, not sorry to put the card back in her pocket.

"Money."

"I have none, but Clara has; I am sure she will give me some; how much do you want?"

"Five cents."

"Come along then."

They started off together along the street, and on the way Heidi asked her companion what he was carrying on his back; it was a hand-organ, he told her, which played beautiful music when he turned the handle. All at once they found themselves in front of an old church with a high tower; the boy said, "There it is."

Heidi caught sight of a bell in the wall which she now pulled with all her might. "If I go up to the tower you must wait here, for I do not know the way back, and you will have to show me."

"What will you give me then for that?"

"Another five cents."

They heard the key turning inside, and then some one pulled open the heavy, creaking door; an old man came out and at first looked with surprise and then in anger at the children, as he began scolding them: "What do you mean by ringing me down like this? Can't you read what is written over the bell, 'For those who wish to go up the tower'?"

"But I do want to go up the tower," said Heidi.

"What do you want up there?" said the old man. "Has somebody sent you?"

"No," replied Heidi, "I only wanted to go up and look down on the valley."

"Get along home with you and don't try this trick again, or you may not come off so easily a second time," and with that he turned and was about to shut the door. But Heidi took hold of his coat and said beseechingly, "Let me go up, just once."

He looked round, and his mood changed as he saw her pleading eyes; he took hold of her hand and said kindly, "Well, if you really wish it so much, I will take you."

The boy sat down on the church steps to show that he was content to wait where he was.

When they had climbed to the top of the tower, the old man lifted Heidi up that she might look out of the open window.

She saw beneath her a sea of roofs, towers, and chimney-pots; she quickly drew back her head and said in a sad, disappointed voice, "It is not at all what I thought."

"You see now, a child like you does not understand anything about a view! Come along down and don't go ringing at my bell again!"

On the way down they passed the tower-keeper's room. At the far end of this was a large basket, in front of which sat a big grey cat.

Heidi went up to the basket and broke out into expressions of delight.

"Oh, the sweet little things! the darling kittens," she kept on saying, as she jumped from side to side of the basket so as not to lose any of the droll gambols of the seven or eight little kittens that were scrambling and rolling and falling over one another.

"Would you like to have one?" said the old man, who enjoyed watching the child's pleasure.

"For myself, to keep?" said Heidi excitedly, who could hardly believe such happiness was to be hers.

"Yes, of course, more than one if you like—in short, you can take away the whole lot if you have room for them," for the old man was only too glad to think he could get rid of his kittens without more trouble.

"But how can I take them with me?" asked Heidi, and was going quickly to see how many she could carry away in her hands, when the old cat sprang at her so fiercely that she shrank back in fear.

"I will take them for you, if you tell me where," said the old man, stroking the cat to quiet her.

"To Mr. Sesemann's, the big house where there is a gold dog's head on the door, with a ring in its mouth," explained Heidi.

The old man had had charge of the tower for many a long year and knew every house far and near.

"I know the house," he said, "but when shall I bring them, and who shall I ask for—you are not one of the family, I am sure."

"No, but Clara will be so delighted when I take her the kittens."

"If I could just take one or two away with me! one for myself and one for Clara, may I?"

"Well, wait a moment," said the man, and he drew the cat cautiously away into his room, and leaving her by a bowl of milk came out again and shut the door. "Now take two of them."

Heidi's eyes shone with delight. She picked up a white kitten and another striped white and yellow, and put one in the right, the other in the left pocket. Then she went downstairs. The boy was still sitting outside on the steps.

In a very short time they had reached the door with the large dog's head for a knocker. Heidi rang the bell. Sebastian opened it quickly, and when he saw it was Heidi, "Make haste! make haste," he cried in a hurried voice.

Heidi sprang hastily in and Sebastian shut the door after her, leaving the boy, whom he had not noticed, standing in wonder on the steps.

"Make haste, little miss," said Sebastian again; "go straight into the dining-room, they are already at table; Miss Rottermeyer looks like a loaded cannon. What could make the little miss run off like that?"

Heidi walked into the room. The housekeeper did not look up, Clara did not speak; there was an uncomfortable silence. Sebastian pushed her chair up for her, and when she was seated Miss Rottermeyer said sternly: "Adelaide, you have behaved in a most unmannerly way by running out of the house as you did, without asking permission, without any one knowing a word about it; and then to go wandering about till this hour; I never heard of such behavior before."

"Miau!" came the answer back.

This was too much for the lady's temper; with raised voice she exclaimed, "You dare, Adelaide, after your bad behavior, to answer me as if it were a joke?"

"I did not—" began Heidi—"Miau! miau!"

"That will do," Miss Rottermeyer tried to say, but her voice was almost stifled with anger. "Get up and leave the room."

Heidi stood up frightened, and again made an attempt to explain. "I really did not—" "Miau! miau! miau!"

"But, Heidi," now put in Clara, "when you see that it makes Miss Rottermeyer angry, why do you keep on saying miau?"

"It isn't I, it's the kittens," Heidi was at last given time to say.

"How! what! kittens!" shrieked Miss Rottermeyer. "Sebastian! Tinette! Find the horrid little things! take them away!" And she rose and fled into the study and locked the door.

When Sebastian entered the dining-room, Clara had the kittens on her lap, and Heidi was kneeling beside her, both laughing and playing with the tiny, graceful little animals.

"Sebastian," exclaimed Clara as he came in, "you must help us; you must find a bed for the kittens where Miss Rottermeyer will not spy them out, for she is so afraid of them that she will send them away at once; but we want to keep them, and have them out whenever we are alone. Where can you put them?"

"I will see to that," answered Sebastian willingly. "I will make a bed in a basket and put it in some place where the lady is not likely to go; you leave it to me." He set about the work at once, sniggling to himself the while, for he guessed there would be a further rumpus about this some day, and Sebastian was not without a certain pleasure in the thought of Miss Rottermeyer being a little disturbed.

After some time had elapsed, Miss Rottermeyer opened the door a crack and called through, "Have you taken those dreadful little animals away, Sebastian?"

He assured her twice that he had done so; and quickly and quietly catching up the kittens from Clara's lap, disappeared with them.

Miss Rottermeyer retired without speaking, Clara and Heidi following, happy in their minds at knowing that the kittens were lying in a comfortable bed.

CHAPTER VIII
SURPRISES FOR THE CHILDREN

"Oho!" thought Sebastian, laughing to himself, "the little miss has evidently been up to more mischief." Then, drawing the boy inside he said aloud, "I understand now, come with me and wait outside the door till I tell you to go in. Be sure you begin playing your organ the instant you get inside the room; the lady is very fond of music."

Sebastian knocked at the study door, and a voice said, "Come in."

"There is a boy outside who says he must speak to Miss Clara herself," Sebastian announced.

Clara was delighted at such an extraordinary and unexpected message.

"Let him come in at once," replied Clara.

The boy was already inside the room, and according to Sebastian's directions immediately began to play his organ. Miss Rottermeyer hearing the music rushed into the room and saw the ragged boy turning away at his organ in the most energetic manner.

"Leave off! leave off at once!" she screamed. But her voice was drowned by the music. She was making a dash for the boy, when she saw something on the ground crawling towards her feet—a dreadful dark object—a tortoise. At this sight she jumped higher than she had for many long years before, shrieking with all her might, "Sebastian! Sebastian!"

"Take them all out, boy and animal! Get them away at once!" she commanded him.

Sebastian pulled the boy away, the latter having quickly caught up his tortoise, and when he had got him outside he put something into his hand. "There is the ten cents from Miss Clara, and another ten cents for the music. You did it all quite right!" and with that he shut the front door upon him.

Quietness reigned again in the study, and lessons began once more; Miss Rottermeyer now stayed in the study in order to prevent any further dreadful goings-on.

But soon another knock came to the door, and Sebastian again stepped in, this time to say that someone had brought a large basket with orders that it was to be given at once to Miss Clara.

"For me?" said Clara in astonishment, her curiosity very much excited, "bring it in at once that I may see what it is like."

Sebastian carried in a large covered basket and retired.

"I think the lessons had better be finished first before the basket is unpacked," said Miss Rottermeyer.

Clara could not conceive what was in it, and cast longing glances towards it. In the middle of one of her declensions she suddenly broke off and said to the tutor, "Mayn't I just give one peep inside to see what is in it before I go on?"

"On some considerations I am for it, on others against it," he began in answer; "for it, on the ground that if your whole attention is directed to the basket—" but the speech remained unfinished. The cover of the basket was loose, and at this moment one, two, three, and then two more kittens came suddenly tumbling on to the floor and racing about the room in every direction. They jumped over the tutor's boots, climbed up Miss Rottermeyer's dress, rolled about her feet, sprang up on to Clara's couch, scratching, scrambling, and mewing. Clara kept on exclaiming, "Oh, the dear little things! how pretty they are! Look, Heidi, at this one; look, look, at that one over there!" And Heidi in her delight kept running after them first into one corner and then into the other. The tutor stood up by the table not knowing what to do. Miss Rottermeyer was unable at first to speak at all, so overcome was she with horror, and she did not dare rise from her chair for fear that all the dreadful little animals should jump upon her at once. At last she found voice to call loudly, "Tinette! Tinette! Sebastian! Sebastian!"

They came in answer to her summons and gathered up the kittens; by degrees they got them all inside the basket again and then carried them off to put with the other two.

When Miss Rottermeyer learned that Heidi was to blame for having the kittens brought into the house she was very angry and said:

"Adelaide, you little barbarian, you shall be put in a dark cellar with the rats and black beetles."

Heidi listened in silence and surprise to her sentence, for she had never seen a cellar such as was now described; the place known at her grandfather's as the cellar, where the fresh cheeses and the new milk were kept, was a pleasant and inviting place; neither did she know at all what rats and black beetles were like.

But now Clara interrupted in great distress. "No, no, Miss Rottermeyer, you must wait till papa comes; he has written to say that he will soon be home, and then I will tell him everything, and he will say what is to be done with Heidi."

Miss Rottermeyer could not do anything against this superior authority, especially as the father was really expected very shortly. She rose and said with some displeasure, "As you will, Clara, but I too shall have something to say to Mr. Sesemann." And with that she left the room.

Two days now went by without further disturbance. Miss Rottermeyer, however, could not recover her equanimity; she was perpetually reminded by Heidi's presence of the deception that had been played upon her, and it seemed to her that ever since the child had come into the house everything had been topsy-turvy, and she could not bring things into proper order again. Clara had grown much more cheerful; she no longer found time hang heavy during the lesson hours, for Heidi was continually making a diversion of some kind or other. She jumbled all her letters up together and seemed quite unable to learn them, and when the tutor tried to draw her attention to their different shapes, and to help her by showing her that this was like a little horn, or that like a bird's bill, she would suddenly exclaim in a joyful voice, "That is a goat!" "That is a bird of prey!". For the tutor's descriptions suggested all kinds of pictures to her mind, but left her still incapable of the alphabet. In the later afternoons Heidi always sat with Clara, and told her of the mountain and of her life upon it, and the longing to return would become so overpowering that she always finished with the words, "Now I must go home! tomorrow I must really go!" But Clara would try to quiet her and tell Heidi that she must wait till her father returned, and then they would see what was to be done. After dinner Heidi had to sit alone in her room for a couple of hours, for she understood now that she might not run about outside at Frankfurt as she did on the mountain, and so she did not attempt it.

At times she could hardly contain herself for the longing to be back home again. She remembered that Dete had told her that she could go home whenever she liked. So it came about one day that Heidi felt she could not bear it any longer. She tied all the rolls up in her red shawl, put on her straw hat, and went downstairs. But just as she reached the hall-door she met Miss Rottermeyer, just returning from a walk, which put a stop to Heidi's journey.

"What have you dressed yourself like that for?" exclaimed Miss Rottermeyer. "What do you mean by this? Have I not strictly forbidden you to go running about in the streets? And here you are ready to start off again, and going out looking like a beggar."

"I was not going to run about, I was going home," said Heidi frightened.

"What are you talking about! Going home! What would Mr. Sesemann say if he knew! And what is the matter with his house, I should like to know! Have you ever in your life before had such a house to live in, such a table, or so many to wait upon you? Have you?"

"No," replied Heidi.

"I should think not, indeed!" continued the exasperated lady. "You are an ungrateful little thing to be always thinking of what naughty thing you can do next!"

Then Heidi's feelings got the better of her, and she poured forth her trouble. "Indeed I only want to go home, for if I stay so long away Snowflake will begin crying again, and grandmother is waiting for me, and Greenfinch will get beaten, because I am not there to give Peter any cheese, and I can never see here how the sun says good-night to the mountains; and if the great bird were to fly over Frankfurt he would croak louder than ever about people huddling all together and teaching each other bad things, and not going to live up on the rocks, where it is so much better."

"Heaven have mercy on us, the child is out of her mind!" cried Miss Rottermeyer, and she turned and went quickly up the steps. "Go and bring that unhappy little creature in at once," she ordered Sebastian.

"What, are you in trouble again?" said Sebastian in a pleasant voice, as he led Heidi back up the stairs. He tried to cheer her up by telling her he was taking good care of all the kittens. But she was too sad to care and silently crept away to her room.

At supper that evening she sat without moving or eating; all she did was to hastily hide her roll in her pocket.

Next day Miss Rottermeyer made up her mind that she would supplement Heidi's clothing with various garments from Clara's wardrobe, so as to give her a decent appearance when Mr. Sesemann returned. She confided her intention to Clara, who was quite willing to give up any number of dresses and hats to Heidi; so the lady went upstairs to overhaul the child's belongings and see what was to be kept and what thrown away. She returned, however, in the course of a few minutes with an expression of horror upon her face.

"What is this, Adelaide, that I find in your wardrobe!" she exclaimed. "I never heard of any one doing such a thing before! In a cupboard meant for clothes, Adelaide, what do I see at the bottom but a heap of rolls! Will you believe it, Clara, bread in a wardrobe! a whole pile of bread!"

"Tinette," she called, "go upstairs and take away all those rolls out of Adelaide's cupboard and the old straw hat on the table."

"No! no!" screamed Heidi. "I must keep the hat, and the rolls are for grandmother," and she was rushing to stop Tinette when Miss Rottermeyer caught hold of her: "You will stop here, and all that bread and rubbish shall be taken to the place they belong to," she said in a determined tone as she kept her hand on the child to prevent her running forward.

Heidi flung herself down on Clara's couch and broke into a wild fit of weeping, sobbing out at intervals, "Now grandmother's bread is all gone! They were all for grandmother, and now they are taken away, and grandmother won't have one," and she wept as if her heart would break.

She could not get over her sobs for a long time; she would never have been able to leave off crying at all if it had not been for Clara's promise that she should have fresh, new rolls to take to grandmother when the time came for her to go home.

When Heidi got into bed that night she found her old straw hat lying under the counterpane. She snatched it up with delight, made it more out of shape still in her joy, and then, after wrapping a handkerchief round it, she stuck it in a corner of the cupboard as far back as she could.

It was Sebastian who had hidden it there for her; he had been in the dining-room when Tinette was called, and had heard all that went on with the child and the latter's loud weeping. So he followed Tinette, and when she came out of Heidi's room carrying the rolls and the hat, he caught up the hat and said, "I will see to this old thing."

CHAPTER IX
MR. SESEMANN TAKES HEIDI'S PART

He found Miss Rottermeyer in the dining-room and when he had taken his place she sat down opposite to him, looking so gloomy that he turned to her and said, "What is the matter?"

"Mr. Sesemann," began the lady in a solemn voice, "we have been frightfully imposed upon."

"Indeed, in what way?" asked Mr. Sesemann as he went on calmly drinking his wine.

"Well, I supposed I was getting a well-behaved and nicely brought up little Swiss girl for Clara's companion but I have been shockingly, disgracefully imposed upon."

"But how? what is there shocking and disgraceful? I see nothing shocking in the child," remarked Mr. Sesemann quietly.

"If you only knew the kind of people and animals she has brought into the house during your absence! The tutor can tell you more about that."

"Animals? what am I to understand by animals, Miss Rottermeyer?"

"It is past understanding; the whole behavior of the child would be past understanding, if it were not that at times she is evidently not in her right mind."

At that moment the door opened and the tutor was announced. "Ah! here is some one," exclaimed Mr. Sesemann, "who will help to clear up matters for me. Take a seat," he continued, as he held out his hand to the tutor. "And now tell me, what is the matter with this child that has come to be a companion to my daughter?"

The tutor started in his usual style. "If I must give my opinion about this little girl, I should like first to state that, if on one side, there is a lack of development which has been caused by the more or less careless way in which she has been brought up—"

"My good friend," interrupted Mr. Sesemann, "you are giving yourself more trouble than you need. I only want to know what your opinion is as to her being a fit companion or not for my daughter?"

"I should not like in any way to prejudice you against her," began the tutor once more; "for if on the one hand there is a certain inexperience of the ways of society, owing to the uncivilized life she led up to the time of her removal to Frankfurt, on the other hand she is endowed with certain good qualities, and, taken on the whole—"

"Excuse me, my dear sir, do not disturb yourself, but I must—I think my daughter will be wanting me," and with that Mr. Sesemann quickly left the room and went into the study to talk to Clara.

"And now, my dear," he said, drawing his chair nearer and laying her hand in his, "what kind of animals has your little companion brought into the house, and why does Miss Rottermeyer think that she is not always in her right mind?"

Clara had no difficulty in answering. She told her father everything about the tortoise and the kittens, and explained to him what Heidi had said the day Miss Rottermeyer had been put in such a fright. Mr. Sesemann laughed heartily at her recital. "So you do not want me to send the child home again," he asked, "you are not tired of having her here?"

"Oh, no, no," Clara exclaimed, "please do not send her away. Time has passed much more quickly since Heidi has been here, for something fresh happens every day, and it used to be so dull, and she has always so much to tell me."

That evening when Mr. Sesemann and Miss Rottermeyer were alone, settling the household affairs, he informed her that he intended to keep Heidi, for his daughter liked her as a companion. "I desire," he continued, "that the child shall be in every way kindly treated, and that her peculiarities shall not be looked upon as crimes. If you find her too much for you alone, I can hold out a prospect of help for I am expecting my mother here on a long visit, and she, as you know, can get along with anybody, whatever they may be like."

"O yes, I know," replied Miss Rottermeyer, but there was no tone of relief in her voice as she thought of the coming help.

Mr. Sesemann was only home for a short time; he left for Paris again before the fortnight was over, comforting Clara with the prospect of her grandmother's arrival, which was to take place in a few days' time. Clara talked so much about her grandmother that Heidi began also to call her "grandmamma," which brought forth a look of displeasure from Miss Rottermeyer. As she was going to her room that night, Miss Rottermeyer waylaid her, and gave her strict orders not to call Mrs. Sesemann "grandmamma," but always to say "madam."

CHAPTER X
CLARA'S LOVABLE GRANDMOTHER

"No," replied Heidi gravely, "I never knew any one with that name before."

"Nor I either," laughed the grandmother again as she patted Heidi's cheek. "Never mind! when I am with the children I am always grandmamma; you won't forget that name, will you?"

"No, no," Heidi assured her, "I often used to say it at home."

"I understand," said the grandmother, with a cheerful little nod of the head. Then she looked more closely at Heidi, and the child looked back at her with steady, serious eyes, for there was something kind and warm-hearted about this newcomer that pleased Heidi, and indeed everything about the grandmother attracted her. She had such beautiful white hair, and two long lace ends hung down from the cap on her head and waved gently about her face every time she moved, as if a soft breeze were blowing round her, which gave Heidi a peculiar feeling of pleasure.

"And what is your name, child?" the grandmother now asked.

"I am always called Heidi; but as I am now to be called Adelaide, I will try and take care—" Heidi stopped short, for Miss Rottermeyer was at this moment entering the room.

"Mrs. Sesemann will no doubt agree with me," she interrupted, "that it was necessary to choose a name that could be pronounced easily, if only for the sake of the servants."

"My worthy Rottermeyer," replied Mrs. Sesemann, "if a person is called 'Heidi' and has grown accustomed to that name, I call her by the same, and so let it be."

Miss Rottermeyer was always very much annoyed that the old lady continually addressed her by her surname only; but it was no use minding, for the grandmother always went her own way, and so there was no help for it. Moreover, the grandmother was a keen old lady, and had all her five wits about her, and she knew what was going on in the house as soon as she entered it.

When on the following day Clara lay down as usual on her couch after dinner, the grandmother sat down beside her for a few minutes and closed her eyes, then she got up again as lively as ever, and trotted off into the dining-room. No one was there. "Heidi is asleep, I suppose," she said to herself, and then going up to Miss Rottermeyer's room she gave a loud knock at the door. She waited a few minutes and then Miss Rottermeyer opened the door and drew back in surprise at this unexpected visit.

"Where is the child, and what is she doing all this time?" said Mrs. Sesemann.

"She is sitting in her room, where she could well employ herself if she had the least idea of making herself useful; but you have no idea, Mrs. Sesemann, of the out-of-the-way things this child imagines and does."

"I should do the same if I had to sit in there like that child, I can tell you; go bring her to my room; I have some pretty books with me that I should like to give her."

"That is just the misfortune," said Miss Rottermeyer with a despairing gesture, "what use are books to her? She has not been able to learn her A B C's even, all the long time she has been here; it is quite impossible to get the least idea of them into her head, and that the tutor himself will tell you; if he had not the patience of an angel he would have given up teaching her long ago."

"That is very strange," said Mrs. Sesemann, "she does not look to me like a child who would be unable to learn her alphabet."

Heidi now appeared and gazed with open-eyed delight and wonder at the beautiful colored pictures in the books which the grandmother gave her to look at. All of a sudden the child gave a start and burst into sobs, for she had turned to a picture of a green pasture, full of young animals, some grazing and others nibbling at the shrubs. In the middle was a shepherd leaning upon his staff and looking on at his happy flock.

The grandmother laid her hand kindly on Heidi's. "Don't cry, dear child, don't cry," she said, "the picture has reminded you perhaps of something. But see, there is a beautiful tale to the picture which I will tell you this evening. And there are other nice tales of all kinds to read and to tell again. But now we must have a little talk together, so dry your tears and come and stand in front of me and tell me how you are getting on in your school-time; do you like your lessons, and have you learnt a great deal?"

"O no!" replied Heidi sighing, "but I knew beforehand that it was not possible to learn."

"What is it you think impossible to learn?"

"Why, to read, it is too difficult."

"You don't say so! and who told you that?"

"Peter told me, and he knew all about it, for he had tried and tried and could not learn it."

"Peter must be a very odd boy then! But listen, Heidi, you must not always go by what Peter says. You must believe what I tell you—and I tell you that you can learn to read in a very little while, as many other children do, who are made like you and not like Peter. As soon as you are able to read you shall have that book for your own."

Heidi had listened with eager attention to the grandmother's words and now with a sigh exclaimed, "Oh, if only I could read now!"

"It won't take you long now to learn, that I can see; and now we must go down to Clara; bring the books with you." And hand in hand the two returned to the study.

Since the day when Heidi had so longed to go home, and Miss Rottermeyer had met her and scolded her on the steps, and told her how wicked and ungrateful she was to try and run away, a change had come over the child. She at last understood that she could not go home when she wished as Dete had told her, but that she would have to stay on in Frankfurt for a long, long time, perhaps for ever. The weight of trouble on the little heart grew heavier and heavier; she could no longer eat her food, and every day she grew a little paler. She lay awake for long hours at night, for as soon as she was alone and everything was still around her, the picture of the mountain with its sunshine and flowers rose vividly before her eyes; and when at last she fell asleep it was to dream of the rocks and the snow-field turning crimson in the evening light, and waking in the morning she would think herself back at the hut and prepare to run joyfully out into the sun—and then—there was her large bed, and here she was in Frankfurt far, far away from home. And Heidi would often lay her face down on the pillow and weep long and quietly so that no one might hear her.

Her unhappiness did not escape the grandmother's notice. One day she called her into her room, and said, "Now tell me, Heidi, what is the matter; are you in trouble?"

But Heidi, afraid if she told the truth that the grandmother would think her ungrateful, and would then leave off being so kind to her, answered, "I can't tell you."

"Well, could you tell Clara about it?"

"Oh no, I cannot tell any one," said Heidi in so positive a tone, and with a look of such trouble on her face, that the grandmother felt full of pity for the child.

"Then, dear child, let me tell you what to do: you know that when we are in great trouble, and cannot speak about it to anybody, we must turn to God and pray Him to help. You say your prayers every evening do you not?"

"No, I never say any prayers," answered Heidi.

"Have you never been taught to pray, Heidi; do you not know even what it means?"

"I used to say prayers with the first grandmother, but that is a long time ago, and I have forgotten them."

"That is the reason, Heidi, that you are so unhappy, because you know no one who can help you. Think what a comfort it is to be able to tell everything to God, and pray Him for the help that no one else can give us. And He can aid us and give us everything that will make us happy again."

A sudden gleam of joy came into Heidi's eyes. "May I tell Him everything, everything?"

"Yes, everything, Heidi, everything."

Heidi drew her hand away, which the grandmother was holding affectionately between her own, and said quickly, "May I go?"

"Yes, of course," was the answer, and Heidi ran out of the room into her own, and sitting herself on a stool, folded her hands together and told God about everything that was making her so sad and unhappy, and begged Him earnestly to help her and to let her go home to her grandfather.

It was about a week after this that the tutor informed Mrs. Sesemann that Heidi had really learnt to read at last.