Heidi

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"Don't want to," sounded the reply.

Heidi hurried up the mountain now and shouted angrily to the boy:
"Peter, if you don't come this minute, I shall do something that you
won't like."

Those words scared Peter, for his conscience was not clear. His deed
had rejoiced him till this moment, when Heidi seemed to talk as if she
knew it all. What if the grandfather should hear about it! Trembling
with fear, Peter obeyed.

"I shall only come if you promise not to do what you said," insisted
the boy.

"No, no, I won't. Don't be afraid," said Heidi compassionately: "Just
come along; it isn't so hard."

Peter, on approaching Clara, was told to help raise the lame child
from the ground on one side, while Heidi helped on the other. This
went easily enough, but difficulties soon followed. Clara was not able
to stand alone, and how could they get any further?

"You must take me round the neck," said Heidi, who had seen what poor
guides they made.

The boy, who had never offered his arm to anybody in his life, had to
be shown how first, before further efforts could be made. But it was
too hard. Clara tried to set her feet forward, but got discouraged.

"Press your feet on the ground more and I am sure it will hurt you
less," suggested Heidi.

"Do you think so?" said Clara, timidly.

But, obeying, she ventured a firmer step and soon another, uttering a
little cry as she went.

"Oh, it really has hurt me less," she said joyfully.

"Try it again," Heidi urged her. Clara did, and took another step, and
then another, and another still. Suddenly she cried aloud: "Oh, Heidi,
I can do it. Oh, I really can. Just look! I can take steps, one after
another."

Heidi rapturously exclaimed: "Oh, Clara, can you really? Can you walk?
Oh, can you take steps now? Oh, if only grandfather would come! Now
you can walk, Clara, now you can walk," she kept on saying joyfully.

Clara held on tight to the children, but with every new step she
became more firm.

"Now you can come up here every day," cried Heidi. "Now we can walk
wherever we want to and you don't have to be pushed in a chair any
more. Now you'll be able to walk all your life. Oh, what joy!"

Clara's greatest wish, to be able to be well like other people, had
been fulfilled at last. It was not very far to the flowering field.
Soon they reached it and sat down among the wealth of bloom. It was
the first time that Clara had ever rested on the dry, warm earth. All
about them the flowers nodded and exhaled their perfume. It was a
scene of exquisite beauty.

The two children could hardly grasp this happiness that had come to
them. It filled their hearts brimming full and made them silent. Peter
also lay motionless, for he had gone to sleep.

Thus the hours flew, and the day was long past noon. Suddenly all the
goats arrived, for they had been seeking the children. They did not
like to graze in the flowers, and were glad when Peter awoke with
their loud bleating. The poor boy was mightily bewildered, for he had
dreamt that the rolling-chair with the red cushions stood again before
his eyes. On awaking, he had still seen the golden nails; but soon he
discovered that they were nothing but flowers. Remembering his deed,
he obeyed Heidi's instructions willingly.

When they came back to their former place, Heidi lost no time in
setting out the dinner. The bag was very full to-day, and Heidi
hurried to fulfill her promise to Peter, who with bad conscience had
understood her threat differently. She made three heaps of the good
things, and when Clara and she were through, there was still a lot
left for the boy. It was too bad that all this treat did not give him
the usual satisfaction, for something seemed to stick in his throat.

Soon after their belated dinner, the grandfather was seen climbing up
the Alp. Heidi ran to meet him, confusedly telling him of the great
event. The old man's face shone at this news. Going over to Clara, he
said: "So you have risked it? Now we have won."

Then picking her up, he put one arm around her waist, and the other
one he stretched out as support, and with his help she marched more
firmly than ever. Heidi jumped and bounded gaily by their side. In all
this excitement the grandfather did not lose his judgment, and before
long lifted Clara on his arm to carry her home. He knew that too much
exertion would be dangerous, and rest was needed for the tired girl.

Peter, arriving in the village late that day, saw a large disputing
crowd. They were all standing about an interesting object, and
everybody pushed and fought for a chance to get nearest. It was no
other than the chair.

"I saw it when they carried it up," Peter heard the baker say. "I bet
it was worth at least five hundred francs. I should just like to know
how it has happened."

"The wind might have blown it down," remarked Barbara, who was staring
open-mouthed at the beautiful velvet cushions. "The uncle said so
himself."

"It is a good thing if nobody else has done it," continued the baker.
"When the gentleman from Frankfurt hears what has happened, he'll
surely find out all about it, and I should pity the culprit. I am glad
I haven't been up on the Alm for so long, else they might suspect me,
as they would anybody who happened to be up there at the time."

Many more opinions were uttered, but Peter had heard enough. He
quietly slipped away and went home. What if they should find out he
had done it? A policeman might arrive any time now and they might take
him away to prison. Peter's hair stood up on end at this alarming
thought.

He was so troubled when he came home that he did not answer any
questions and even refused his dish of potatoes. Hurriedly creeping
into bed, he groaned.

"I am sure Peter has eaten sorrel again, and that makes him groan so,"
said his mother.

"You must give him a little more bread in the morning, Brigida. Take a
piece of mine," said the compassionate grandmother.

When Clara and Heidi were lying in their beds that night, glancing up
at the shining stars, Heidi remarked: "Didn't you think to-day, Clara,
that it is fortunate God does not always give us what we pray for
fervently, because He knows of something better?"

"What do you mean, Heidi?" asked Clara.

"You see, when I was in Frankfurt I prayed and prayed to come home
again, and when I couldn't, I thought He had forgotten me. But if I
had gone away so soon you would never have come here and would never
have got well."

Clara, becoming thoughtful, said: "But, Heidi, then we could not pray
for anything any more, because we would feel that He always knows of
something better."

"But, Clara, we must pray to God every day to show we don't forget
that all gifts come from Him. Grandmama has told me that God forgets
us if we forget Him. But if some wish remains unfulfilled we must show
our confidence in Him, for he knows best."

"How did you ever think of that?" asked Clara.

"Grandmama told me, but I know that it is so. We must thank God to-day
that He has made you able to walk, Clara."

"I am glad that you have reminded me, Heidi, for I have nearly
forgotten it in my excitement."

The children both prayed and sent their thanks up to heaven for the
restoration of the invalid.

Next morning a letter was written to grandmama, inviting her to come
up to the Alp within a week's time, for the children had planned to
take her by surprise. Clara hoped then to be able to walk alone, with
Heidi for her guide.

The following days were happier still for Clara. Every morning she
awoke with her heart singing over and over again, "Now I am well! Now
I can walk like other people!"

She progressed, and took longer walks every day. Her appetite grew
amazingly, and the grandfather had to make larger slices of the bread
and butter that, to his delight, disappeared so rapidly. He had to
fill bowl after bowl of the foaming milk for the hungry children. In
that way they reached the end of the week that was to bring the
grandmama.

[Illustration]

XXIII

PARTING TO MEET AGAIN

A day before her visit the grandmama had sent a letter to announce her
coming. Peter brought it up with him next morning. The grandfather was
already before the hut with the children and his merry goats. His face
looked proud, as he contemplated the rosy faces of the girls and the
shining hair of his two goats.

Peter, approaching, neared the uncle slowly. As soon as he had
delivered the letter, he sprang back shyly, looking about him as if he
was afraid. Then with a leap he started off.

"I should like to know why Peter behaves like the Big Turk when he is
afraid of the rod," said Heidi, watching his strange behavior.

"Maybe Peter fears a rod that he deserves," said the old man.

All the way Peter was tormented with fear. He could not help thinking
of the policeman who was coming from Frankfurt to fetch him to prison.

It was a busy morning for Heidi, who put the hut in order for the
expected visitor. The time went by quickly, and soon everything was
ready to welcome the good grandmama.

The grandfather also returned from a walk, on which he had gathered a
glorious bunch of deep-blue gentians. The children, who were sitting
on the bench, exclaimed for joy when they saw the glowing flowers.

Heidi, getting up from time to time to spy down the path, suddenly
discovered grandmama, sitting on a white horse and accompanied by two
men. One of them carried plenty of wraps, for without those the lady
did not dare to pay such a visit.

The party came nearer and nearer, and soon reached the top.

"What do I see? Clara, what is this? Why are you not sitting in your
chair? How is this possible?" cried the grandmama in alarm,
dismounting hastily. Before she had quite reached the children she
threw her arms up in great excitement:

"Clara, is that really you? You have red, round cheeks, my child! I
hardly know you any more!" Grandmama was going to rush at her
grandchild, when Heidi slipped from the bench, and Clara, taking her
arm, they quietly took a little walk. The grandmama was rooted to the
spot from fear. What was this? Upright and firm, Clara walked beside
her friend. When they came back their rosy faces beamed. Rushing
toward the children, the grandmother hugged them over and over again.

Looking over to the bench, she beheld the uncle, who sat there
smiling. Taking Clara's arm in hers, she walked over to him,
continually venting her delight. When she reached the old man, she
took both his hands in hers and said:

"My dear, dear uncle! What have we to thank you for! This is your
work, your care and nursing--"

"But our Lord's sunshine and mountain air," interrupted the uncle,
smiling.

Then Clara called, "Yes, and also Schwaenli's good, delicious milk.
Grandmama, you ought to see how much goat-milk I can drink now; oh, it
is so good!"

"Indeed I can see that from your cheeks," said the grandmama, smiling.
"No, I hardly recognize you any more. You have become broad and round!
I never dreamt that you could get so stout and tall! Oh, Clara, is it
really true? I cannot look at you enough. But now I must telegraph
your father to come. I shan't tell him anything about you, for it will
be the greatest joy of all his life. My dear uncle, how are we going
to manage it? Have you sent the men away?"

"I have, but I can easily send the goatherd."

So they decided that Peter should take the message. The uncle
immediately whistled so loud that it resounded from all sides. Soon
Peter arrived, white with fear, for he thought his doom had come. But
he only received a paper that was to be carried to the post-office of
the village.

Relieved for the moment, Peter set out. Now all the happy friends sat
down round the table, and grandmama was told how the miracle had
happened. Often the talk was interrupted by exclamations of surprise
from grandmama, who still believed it was all a dream. How could this
be her pale, weak little Clara? The children were in a constant state
of joy, to see how their surprise had worked.

Meanwhile Mr. Sesemann, having finished his business in Paris, was
also preparing a surprise. Without writing his mother he traveled to
Ragatz on a sunny summer morning. He had arrived on this very day,
some hours after his mother's departure, and now, taking a carriage,
he drove to Mayenfeld.

The long ascent to the Alp from there seemed very weary and far to
the traveller. When would he reach the goat-herd's hut? There were
many little roads branching off in several directions, and sometimes
Mr. Sesemann doubted if he had taken the right path. But not a soul
was near, and no sound could be heard except the rustling of the wind
and the hum of little insects. A merry little bird was singing on a
larch-tree, but nothing more.

Standing still and cooling his brow, he saw a boy running down the
hill at topmost speed. Mr. Sesemann called to him, but with no
success, for the boy kept at a shy distance.

"Now, my boy, can't you tell me if I am on the right path to the hut
where Heidi lives and the people from Frankfurt are staying?"

A dull sound of terror was the only reply. Peter shot off and rushed
head over heels down the mountain-side, turning wild somersaults on
his perilous way. His course resembled the course his enemy had taken
some days ago.

[Illustration: PETER SHOT OFF AND RUSHED DOWN THE MOUNTAIN-SIDE,
TURNING WILD SOMERSAULTS ON HIS PERILOUS WAY]

"What a funny, bashful mountaineer!" Mr. Sesemann remarked to himself,
thinking that the appearance of a stranger had upset this simple son
of the Alps. After watching the downward course of the boy a little
while, he soon proceeded on his way.

In spite of the greatest effort, Peter could not stop himself, and
kept rolling on. But his fright and terror were still more terrible
than his bumps and blows. This stranger was the policeman, that was a
certain fact! At last, being thrown against a bush, he clutched it
wildly.

"Good, here's another one!" a voice near Peter said. "I wonder who is
going to be pushed down tomorrow, looking like a half-open
potato-bag?" The village baker was making fun of him. For a little
rest after his weary work, he had quietly watched the boy.

Peter regained his feet and slunk away. How did the baker know the
chair had been pushed? He longed to go home to bed and hide, for there
alone he felt safe. But he had to go up to the goats, and the uncle
had clearly told him to come back as quickly as he could. Groaning, he
limped away up to the Alp. How could he run now, with his fear and all
his poor, sore limbs?

Mr. Sesemann had reached the hut soon after meeting Peter, and felt
reassured. Climbing further, with renewed courage, he at last saw his
goal before him, but not without long and weary exertion. He saw the
Alm-hut above him, and the swaying fir-trees. Mr. Sesemann eagerly
hurried to encounter his beloved child. They had seen him long ago
from the hut, and a treat was prepared for him that he never
suspected.

As he made the last steps, he saw two forms coming towards him. A tall
girl, with light hair and rosy face, was leaning on Heidi, whose dark
eyes sparkled with keen delight. Mr. Sesemann stopped short, staring
at this vision. Suddenly big tears rushed from his eyes, for this
shape before him recalled sweet memories. Clara's mother had looked
exactly like this fair maiden. Mr. Sesemann at this moment did not
know if he was awake or dreaming.

"Papa, don't you know me any more?" Clara called with beaming eyes.
"Have I changed so much?"

Mr. Sesemann rushed up to her, folding her in his arms. "Yes, you
_have_ changed. How is it possible? Is it really true? Is it really
you, Clara?" asked the over-joyed father, embracing her again and
again, and then gazing at her, as she stood tall and firm by his side.

His mother joined them now, for she wanted to see the happiness of her
son.

"What do you say to this, my son? Isn't our surprise finer than
yours?" she greeted him. "But come over to our benefactor now,--I mean
the uncle."

"Yes, indeed, I also must greet our little Heidi," said the gentleman,
shaking Heidi's hand. "Well? Always fresh and happy on the mountain? I
guess I don't need to ask, for no Alpine rose can look more blooming.
Ah, child, what joy this is to me!"

With beaming eyes the child looked at the kind gentleman who had
always been so good to her. Her heart throbbed in sympathy with his
joy. While the two men, who had at last approached each other, were
conversing, grandmama walked over to the grove. There, under the
fir-trees, another surprise awaited her. A beautiful bunch of
wondrously blue gentians stood as if they had grown there.

"How exquisite, how wonderful! What a sight!" she exclaimed, clapping
her hands. "Heidi, come here! Have you brought me those? Oh, they are
beautiful!"

The children had joined her, Heidi assuring her that it was another
person's deed.

"Oh grandmama, up on the pasture it looks just like that," Clara
remarked. "Just guess who brought you the flowers?"

At that moment a rustle was heard, and they saw Peter, who was trying
to sneak up behind the trees to avoid the hut. Immediately the old
lady called to him, for she thought that Peter himself had picked the
flowers for her. He must be creeping away out of sheer modesty, the
kind lady thought. To give him his reward, she called:

"Come here, my boy! don't be afraid."

Petrified with fear, Peter stood still. What had gone before had
robbed him of his courage. He thought now that all was over with him.
With his hair standing up on end and his pale face distorted by
anguish, he approached.

"Come straight to me, boy," the old lady encouraged him. "Now tell me,
boy, if you have done that."

In his anxiety, Peter did not see the grandmama's finger that pointed
to the flowers. He only saw the uncle standing near the hut, looking
at him penetratingly, and beside him the policeman, the greatest
horror for him in the world. Trembling in every limb, Peter answered,
"Yes!"

"Well, but what are you so frightened about?"

"Because--because it is broken and can never be mended again," Peter
said, his knees tottering under him.

The grandmama now walked over to the hut: "My dear uncle," she asked
kindly, "is this poor lad out of his mind?"

"Not at all," was the reply; "only the boy was the wind which blew
away the wheel-chair. He is expecting the punishment he well
deserves."

Grandmama was very much surprised, for she vowed that Peter looked far
from wicked. Why should he have destroyed the chair? The uncle told
her that he had noticed many signs of anger in the boy since Clara's
advent on the Alp. He assured her that he had suspected the boy from
the beginning.

"My dear uncle," the old lady said with animation, "we must not punish
him further. We must be just. It was very hard on him when Clara
robbed him of Heidi, who is and was his greatest treasure. When he had
to sit alone day after day, it roused him to a passion which drove him
to this wicked deed. It was rather foolish, but we all get so when we
get angry."

The lady walked over to the boy again, who was still quivering with
fear.

Sitting down on the bench, she began:

"Come, Peter, I'll tell you something. Stop trembling and listen. You
pushed the chair down, to destroy it. You knew very well that it was
wicked and deserved punishment. You tried very hard to conceal it, did
you not? But if somebody thinks that nobody knows about a wicked deed,
he is wrong; God always knows it. As soon as He finds that a man is
trying to conceal an evil he has done, He wakens a little watchman in
his heart, who keeps on pricking the person with a thorn till all his
rest is gone. He keeps on calling to the evildoer: 'Now you'll be
found out! Now your punishment is near!'--His joy has flown, for fear
and terror take its place. Have you not just had such an experience,
Peter?"

Peter nodded, all contrite. He certainly had experienced this.

"You have made a mistake," the grandmama continued, "by thinking that
you would hurt Clara by destroying her chair. It has so happened that
what you have done has been the greatest good for her. She would
probably never have tried to walk, if her chair had been there. If she
should stay here, she might even go up to the pasture every single
day. Do you see, Peter? God can turn a misdeed to the good of the
injured person and bring trouble on the offender. Have you understood
me, Peter? Remember the little watchman when you long to do a wicked
deed again. Will you do that?"

"Yes, I shall," Peter replied, still fearing the policeman, who had
not left yet.

"So now that matter is all settled," said the old lady in conclusion.
"Now tell me if you have a wish, my boy, for I am going to give you
something by which to remember your friends from Frankfurt. What is
it? What would you like to have?"

Peter, lifting his head, stared at the grandmama with round,
astonished eyes. He was confused by this sudden change of prospect.

Being again urged to utter a wish, he saw at last that he was saved
from the power of the terrible man. He felt as if the most crushing
load had fallen off him. He knew now that it was better to confess at
once, when something had gone wrong, so he said: "I have also lost the
paper."

Reflecting a while, the grandmama understood and said: "That is right.
Always confess what is wrong, then it can be settled. And now, what
would you like to have?"

So Peter could choose everything in the world he wished. His brain got
dizzy. He saw before him all the wonderful things in the fair in
Mayenfeld. He had often stood there for hours, looking at the pretty
red whistles and the little knives; unfortunately Peter had never
possessed more than half what those objects cost.

He stood thinking, not able to decide, when a bright thought struck
him.

"Ten pennies," said Peter with decision.

"That certainly is not too much," the old lady said with a smile,
taking out of her pocket a big, round thaler, on top of which she
laid twenty pennies. "Now I'll explain this to you. Here you have as
many times ten pennies as there are weeks in the year. You'll be able
to spend one every Sunday through the year."

"All my life?" Peter asked quite innocently.

The grandmama began to laugh so heartily at this that the two men came
over to join her.

Laughingly she said: "You shall have it my boy; I will put it in my
will and then you will do the same, my son. Listen! Peter the goatherd
shall have a ten-penny piece weekly as long as he lives."

Mr. Sesemann nodded.

Peter, looking at his gift, said solemnly: "God be thanked!" Jumping
and bounding, he ran away. His heart was so light that he felt he
could fly.

A little later the whole party sat round the table holding a merry
feast. After dinner, Clara, who was lively as never before, said to
her father:

"Oh, Papa, if you only knew all the things grandfather did for me. It
would take many days to tell you; I shall never forget them all my
life. Oh, if we could please him only half as much as what he did for
me."

"It is my greatest wish, too, dear child," said her father; "I have
been trying to think of something all the time. We have to show our
gratitude in some way."

Accordingly Mr. Sesemann walked over to the old man, and began: "My
dear friend, may I say one word to you. I am sure you believe me when
I tell you that I have not known any real joy for years. What was my
wealth to me when I could not cure my child and make her happy! With
the help of the Lord you have made her well. You have given her a new
life. Please tell me how to show my gratitude to you. I know I shall
never be able to repay you, but what is in my power I shall do. Have
you any request to make? Please let me know."

The uncle had listened quietly and had looked at the happy father.

"Mr. Sesemann, you can be sure that I also am repaid by the great joy
I experience at the recovery of Clara," said the uncle firmly. "I
thank you for your kind offer, Mr. Sesemann. As long as I live I have
enough for me and the child. But I have one wish. If this could be
fulfilled, my life would be free of care."

"Speak, my dear friend," urged Clara's father.

"I am old," continued the uncle, "and shall not live many years. When
I die I cannot leave Heidi anything. The child has no relations except
one, who even might try to take advantage of her if she could. If you
would give me the assurance, Mr. Sesemann, that Heidi will never be
obliged to go into the world and earn her bread, you would amply repay
me for what I was able to do for you and Clara."

"My dear friend, there is no question of that," began Mr. Sesemann;
"the child belongs to us! I promise at once that we shall look after
her so that there will not be any need of her ever earning her bread.
We all know that she is not fashioned for a life among strangers.
Nevertheless, she has made some true friends, and one of them will be
here very shortly. Dr. Classen is just now completing his last
business in Frankfurt. He intends to take your advice and live here.
He has never felt so happy as with you and Heidi. The child will have
two protectors near her, and I hope with God's will, that they may be
spared a long, long time."

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