Heidi

9 A Bad Report to Mr Sesemann

There was a great bustle in the big house and much running up and down stairs a few days later, for the master had returned from his travels, and Sebastian and Tinette had one load of luggage after another to carry up from the carriage, for Mr Sesemann always brought a lot of presents and other nice things home with him.

The first thing he did was to go and find his daughter, and there was Heidi with her, for it was the late afternoon, when they were always together. Father and daughter were very fond of one another and they greeted each other very warmly. Then he put out a hand to Heidi, who had moved quietly away into a corner, and said kindly:

‘So this is our little Swiss girl. Come and shake hands. That’s right. And tell me, are you and Clara good friends? I hope you don’t squabble, so that you have to kiss and make it up and then start the whole performance again.’

‘No, Clara is always good to me,’ said Heidi.

‘And Heidi never quarrels with me,’ added Clara.

‘I’m glad to hear that,’ said her father. ‘And now, my dear, you must forgive me if I leave you. I haven’t had anything to eat all day. But I’ll come back later on and you shall see all that I’ve brought for you.’

He went along to the dining‐room, where Miss Rotten‐meier was making sure that everything was in order. There he sat down and she took a seat opposite him, with a face like a thundercloud.

‘What’s the matter?’ he asked. ‘Why this gloomy expression to welcome me home, when Clara seems in such good spirits?’

‘Mr Sesemann,’ she began pompously, ‘we have all been dreadfully deceived, Clara not least of us.’

‘Indeed?’ he returned calmly, sipping his wine.

‘You remember we agreed that Clara should have a young companion to live with her? Knowing how careful you are that she should only have about her well behaved, nicely brought up people, I thought a young Swiss girl from the mountains would be suitable. I’ve often read of these girls, who float through the world like a breath of pure Alpine air; almost, as it were, without touching the ground.’

‘I think even Swiss children must put their feet on the ground if they want to get anywhere,’ remarked Mr Sesemann drily, ‘otherwise they’d have been given wings.’

‘Oh, that’s not what I meant,’ she cried. ‘You know a real child of nature, hardly touched by this world at all.’

‘I don’t quite see what use that would be to Clara,’ observed Clara’s father.

‘I’m serious, Mr Sesemann. I have been disgracefully imposed upon!’

‘What’s disgraceful about it? I see nothing in the child herself to be so upset about.’

‘You should see the sort of people and animals she has been bringing into the house. Mr Usher will bear me out about that. And that’s not all.’

‘I don’t understand you,’ he said. But now Miss Rotten‐meier saw that she had his attention.

‘I don’t wonder. Her conduct in general has been almost past belief. I can only think she’s not quite right in the head.’

Mr Sesemann had not taken her earlier complaints seriously, but this was another matter and, if true, Clara might come to some harm. He looked at the woman as though wondering whether she herself was quite right in the head, and at that moment the door opened and Mr Usher was announced.

‘Just the man we want,’ declared Mr Sesemann. ‘Come and sit down, and have a cup of coffee. You’ll be able to clear things up for me, I’m sure. Tell me plainly what you think of my daughter’s little companion. What’s all this about her bringing animals into the house? Do you think she’s at all odd?’

The tutor began to explain in his roundabout fashion that he had only come to say how glad he was that Mr Sesemann had returned safely, but the compliments were waved aside. Mr Sesemann wanted a quick answer to his questions. But still Mr Usher began his explanations, as though he was something which had been wound up and had to go on till the works ran down.

‘If I am to express an opinion about the young person,’ he said, ‘I should like first of all to emphasize that, though she may be backward in some respects as a result of a rather neglected — or perhaps I should say late — education, and because of her prolonged sojourn in the mountains, which of course could be beneficial in itself, if not of too long duration…’

‘My dear Mr Usher,’ interrupted Mr Sesemann, ‘don’t bother about such details. Just tell me whether you have been alarmed by her bringing animals into the house and what you think of her in general as a companion for my daughter.’

‘I should not like to say anything against the child,’ Mr Usher replied carefully, ‘for if, on the one hand, her conduct is somewhat unconventional as a result of her primitive way of life before she came to Frankfurt, this change is for her, I make bold to say, undoubtedly important and…’

Mr Sesemann got up. ‘Excuse me, Mr Usher, don’t let me disturb you, but I must just get back to my daughter.’ He hurried out and did not return, but went to the study and sat down beside Clara. Heidi stood up when he entered the room and as he wanted her out of the way for a few minutes, he said:

‘My dear, will you go and fetch me — now whatever was it I wanted? — oh yes, a glass of water.’

‘Fresh water?’

‘Yes, fresh cold water.’ Heidi vanished.

He pulled his chair closer to his daughter and stroked her hand. ‘Now Clara dear, I want you to tell me about these animals your little playmate has been bringing into the house, and why does Miss Rottenmeier think she is not quite right in the head?’

Clara told him just what had happened, about the tortoise and the kittens, the rolls and everything. When she had finished, her father laughed heartily.

‘Well well, then you don’t want me to send her home, Clara? You’re not tired of her?’

‘Oh no, Papa,’ she cried. ‘Since Heidi’s been here, delightful things have happened nearly every day. It’s much more amusing, and she tells me all sorts of interesting things.’

‘That’s all right then. And here comes your little friend. Have you brought me nice cold water, my dear?’

‘Straight from the fountain,’ said Heidi, handing it to him.

‘But you didn’t go to the fountain all by yourself?’ said Clara.

‘Yes I did. And I had to go a long way, because there were so many people round the first two fountains that I had to go on to the next street and fetch it from there. And I met a gentleman with white hair and he sent his kind regards to Mr Sesemann.’

‘Well, you’ve had quite a journey,’ said Mr Sesemann with a smile. ‘I wonder who the gentleman was.’

‘He stopped by the fountain and said, “As you’ve got a glass, please give me a drink. Who are you fetching the water for?” And I said, “For Mr Sesemann.” Then he laughed and said he hoped you would enjoy it.’

‘Describe him to us,’ said Mr Sesemann.

‘He had a nice smile, and wore a thick gold chain with a gold thing hanging on it which had a red stone in the middle. And he had a stick with a horse’s head handle.’

‘The doctor,’ cried Clara and her father with one voice, and he smiled at the thought of what his old friend would have to say about this unusual search for water to quench his thirst.

That evening, he told Miss Rottenmeier, as they were discussing household matters, that Heidi was to stay. ‘The child seems perfectly normal and Clara loves having her here,’ he explained. ‘You mustn’t regard her funny little ways as faults, and I want you, please, to make sure that she’s always kindly treated. If you find her too much to manage on your own — well, you’ll have some help soon for my mother will be coming for her usual long visit and she can manage anyone, as you know.’

‘Yes indeed, Mr Sesemann,’ replied Miss Rottenmeier, rather crestfallen, for she did not particularly relish this news.

Mr Sesemann was only at home a fortnight, then had to go to Paris on business. Clara was very disappointed that he could not stay longer, and to cheer her up he told her about her grandmother’s promised visit, and almost as soon as he had left, a letter came to say that old Mrs Sesemann was on her way, and would arrive on the following day. She asked for the carriage to be sent to fetch her from the station.

Clara was delighted, and talked so much about Grandmamma that Heidi began to speak of her as Grand‐mamma too. Miss Rottenmeier frowned when she heard her, but the little girl was so used to seeing disapproval on that face that she did not pay much attention to it. But as she was going to bed that night, Miss Rottenmeier called her and told her she was never to address Mrs Sesemann as ‘Grandmamma’. ‘You must call her “Gracious Madam”. Do you understand?’ Heidi was puzzled, but encountered such a forbidding look in the lady’s eye that she did not like to ask her why.