Heidi

10 Grandmamma’s Visit

Next day everyone was very busy preparing for the expected guest. It was easy to see that she was an important person in that household and was accustomed to being treated as such. Tinette put on a nice new cap in her honour. Sebastian collected all the footstools he could find and put them in convenient places so that she would find one ready wherever she sat down. Miss Rotten‐meier fussed about the place, inspecting everything, as though determined to show her authority and that she did not mean to be deprived of any of it by the new arrival.

As the carriage came rolling up to the front door, Sebastian and Tinette ran downstairs. Miss Rottenmeier followed in a more dignified fashion to receive the guest. Heidi had been told to stay in her room until she was sent for, so that Clara and her grandmother could have a little while alone. So Heidi sat there, quietly saying over to herself the words with which she had been told to address the old lady. They sounded so strange to her that she rearranged them, thinking Miss Rottenmeier must surely have made a mistake, and that ‘Madam’ must come first. Before long Tinette stuck her head round the door, and said sharply, ‘You’re to go to the study.’

Heidi did as she was told, and as she came into the room, Mrs Sesemann said in a friendly voice, ‘Come over here, my dear, and let me have a good look at you.’

Heidi went to her and said clearly and carefully, ‘Good evening, Madam Gracious.’

‘What was that?’ laughed the old lady. ‘Is that how you address people up in the mountains?’

‘No, no one’s called that at home,’ said Heidi gravely.

‘Nor here either. In the nursery I’m always just “Grand‐mamma” and that’s what you shall call me too. You’ll remember that all right, won’t you?’

‘Yes, I’ve used that name.’

‘Good,’ said Grandmamma, with an understanding nod, patting her cheek. Then she looked closely at her and nodded again, liking what she saw, for the child’s eyes were grave and steady as they looked back, and Heidi saw such a kind expression on the old lady’s face that she loved her at once. Indeed everything about Grandmamma was delightful to Heidi. She had pretty white hair and wore a dainty lace cap, with two broad ribbons which fluttered behind, as though there was always a gentle breeze blowing round her. Heidi thought that specially attractive.

‘And what’s your name?’ Grandmamma asked.

‘My real name’s Heidi, but now it’s supposed to be Adelheid, so I answer if I’m called that.’ At that moment Miss Rottenmeier came into the room and Heidi stopped in confusion, remembering that she was still so unaccustomed to her full name that she frequently did not answer when that lady called her by it.

‘I’m sure you’ll agree, Mrs Sesemann,’ said the disagreeable woman, ‘that it is better to call her by a name that can be used without embarrassment, especially to the servants.’

‘My good Rottenmeier,’ replied Mrs Sesemann, ‘if she’s always been called Heidi and is used to that name, I shall certainly call her that.’

Miss Rottenmeier did not at all like being addressed by her surname alone, but she always had to put up with it from the old lady who was set in her ways. When she had made up her mind to a thing, there was no changing it. Besides, Mrs Sesemann was still very active, and missed nothing that went on in the house.

The next afternoon Clara went to rest as usual and her grandmother sat beside her in an armchair to have a little nap too. After it, she felt quite refreshed, and went along to the dining‐room to find the housekeeper, but the room was empty.

‘Perhaps she’s having a little sleep too,’ she thought, and went on to Miss Rottenmeier’s bedroom and knocked sharply on the door. It was opened after a moment by that lady, who looked rather taken aback at sight of her visitor.

‘I just want to know where Heidi is, and what she does with herself in the afternoons,’ said Mrs Sesemann.

‘She sits in her room,’ Miss Rottenmeier replied. ‘She might be doing something useful if she had the least inclination that way, but instead she makes the most ridiculous plans and even tries to carry them out — things I could really hardly mention in polite society.’

‘Depend upon it I should do exactly the same, if I were left alone like that. And probably you wouldn’t care to mention my ideas in polite society either. Go and bring her to my room. I want to give her some books I’ve brought with me.’

‘Books!’ exclaimed Miss Rottenmeier, clasping her hands together. ‘Books are no use to her! In all the time she has been here, she hasn’t even learnt her alphabet. It seems quite impossible to teach her, as Mr Usher will tell you. If he hadn’t the patience of a saint, he would have given her up long ago.’

‘That’s strange. The child doesn’t look stupid. Go and fetch her anyway. She can at least look at the pictures.’ Miss Rottenmeier wanted to say something more, but Mrs Sesemann turned and quickly left her room. She was very surprised to hear that Heidi was so slow to learn and made up her mind to find out why. She had no intention of asking Mr Usher, however. She knew he was quite a good man, and she always made a point of greeting him very politely when they happened to meet, but she took good care not to land herself in conversation with him as she found his pompous way of expressing himself quite unbearable.

Heidi soon came to her, and was delighted to have the beautiful big picture books to look at. Then, all of a sudden, she gave a little cry and burst into tears. Mrs Sesemann glanced at the picture which had upset her, and saw that it was of a green meadow where many animals grazed, watched over by a shepherd leaning on a long staff. The sun was setting and the meadow was bathed in golden light. She patted Heidi’s hand and said in a very kind voice:

‘Come child, don’t cry. I suppose it reminded you of something. But there’s a nice story to it, which I’ll tell you this evening, and there are lots of other stories in the book to read. Now dry your eyes for I want to talk to you. Sit here where I can see you properly.’

It was some time before Heidi could stop crying, and Mrs Sesemann let her alone while she composed herself. As she grew calmer, the old lady said, ‘That’s right. Now we can have a nice little talk. First tell me, child, how you are getting on with your lessons. What have you learnt?’

‘Nothing,’ said Heidi, with a sigh, ‘but I knew I should not be able to.’

‘What do you mean by that? What is it you don’t think you can learn?’

‘To read. It’s too difficult.’

‘What makes you think that?’

‘Peter said so, and he ought to know because he’s tried and tried but he just can’t learn.’

‘He must be a very odd boy then. But you mustn’t simply take his word for it. You must try hard yourself. I don’t think you can have paid proper attention to Mr Usher’s lessons.’

‘It’s no use,’ said Heidi in a hopeless tone.

‘Now listen to me, Heidi, you’ve never learnt to read because you believed what Peter told you. Now you must believe what I say, that in a little while you will be able to read quite well, as most children do, being on the whole like you and not like Peter. And as soon as you can read, you shall have the book with the picture of the shepherd in the meadow for your very own, and then you’ll be able to read the story for yourself and find out what happens to him and his animals. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’

Heidi had been listening eagerly, with shining eyes. Then she sighed and exclaimed, ‘I wish I could read now!’

‘It won’t take you long, I’m sure,’ Grandmamma told her. ‘Now we must go and see Clara. Let us take the books with us.’ And hand in hand they went to the study.

A change had come over Heidi since the day she had tried to go home and Miss Rottenmeier had given her such a scolding. She now understood that, in spite of what Detie had told her, she could not go away when she wanted to, and that she would have to stay in Frankfurt for a long time, perhaps for ever. She believed that Mr Sesemann would think her very ungrateful if she said she wanted to go away, and probably Grandmamma and Clara would think the same, if they knew. So she dared not tell anyone how she felt, but went about mournfully, with a heavy heart. She had begun to lose her appetite and grew quite pale. When she was alone in her quiet room at night, she often lay awake for hours, thinking of home and the mountains, and when she fell asleep at last, it was to dream of them so vividly that she woke in the morning expecting to run joyfully down the ladder from the loft — and found herself, after all, still in the big bed in Frankfurt, so far away. The disappointment of that awakening often made her cry miserably, burying her face in her pillow so that no one should hear.

Grandmamma saw her unhappiness but said nothing for a few days, waiting to see if it would pass. When there was no improvement, and she had noticed traces of tears on the little face on several mornings, she took Heidi into her room and asked very kindly what the matter was and why she was so sad.

Heidi was afraid of vexing her if she told her the truth, and answered, ‘I can’t tell you.’

‘Can’t? Could you tell Clara then?’

‘Oh no, I can’t tell anyone,’ said Heidi so sadly that the old lady’s heart ached for her.

‘Listen to me,’ she said, ‘if we’re in trouble and can’t tell any ordinary person, why, there is always God whom we can tell, and if we ask Him to help us, He always will. Do you understand? You do pray to God every night, don’t you, to thank Him for all the good things and to ask Him to protect you from harm?’

‘No, I don’t,’ was the reply, ‘never.’

‘Haven’t you been taught to pray, Heidi? Don’t you know how?’

‘I used to pray with my own grandmother, but that’s a long, long time ago. I’ve almost forgotten about it.’

‘Ah — and when you are sad, and have no one to turn to for help, can’t you see what a comfort it is to tell God all about it, knowing that He will help? Believe me, He always finds some way of making us happy again.’

Heidi’s eyes brightened. ‘May I tell Him everything, really everything?’ she asked.

‘Yes, everything.’

Heidi slipped her hand out of the old lady’s.

‘May I go now?’ she asked.

‘Of course, child.’

She ran to her own room, sat down on her stool, and folded her hands. Then she poured out all her troubles to God and begged Him to help her to get home to her grandfather.

One morning, about a week later, Mr Usher asked if he might speak to Mrs Sesemann on an important matter. He was invited to her room, where she received him in her usual friendly way.

‘Come in and sit down, Mr Usher,’ she said. ‘I’m pleased to see you. What is it you want to speak to me about? No complaints, I hope?’

‘On the contrary, Madam,’ he replied. ‘Something has come to pass which I had long given up hoping for. Indeed I think no one who knew the facts would have expected it. Yet, there it is — the impossible has happened.’

‘Are you going to tell me that little Heidi has learnt to read at last?’ asked Mrs Sesemann. The young man opened his eyes very wide.

‘Why, that you should suggest such a possibility, Madam, is almost as surprising as the fact itself. Up till now, in spite of all my efforts, she seemed quite unable to learn even the letters, and I had reluctantly come to the conclusion that she would have to be left to try to learn them in her own way, without any further help from me. Now she has mastered them almost overnight, as it were, and can read — and more correctly than most beginners. It’s really remarkable.’

‘There are many strange things in this life,’ agreed Mrs Sesemann, well pleased. ‘Perhaps this time there was a new desire to learn. In any case, let us be thankful the child has got thus far, and let us hope she will continue to make progress.’

She then went with the tutor to the door and, as he went downstairs, hurried to the study to find out for herself about this good news. She found Heidi reading aloud to Clara, and quite excited at the new world which had been opened to her, as the black letters on the page came alive and turned into stories about all kinds of people and things.

That evening, at supper, Heidi found the big picture book beside her place. She looked brightly at Grand‐mamma, who nodded and said, ‘Yes, it’s yours now.’

‘For ever and ever? Even when I go home?’ asked Heidi, flushing with pleasure.

‘Yes, of course, and tomorrow we’ll start to read it.’ ‘But you won’t be going home, Heidi, not for ages,’ put in Clara. ‘Grandmamma will be leaving soon and then I shall need you more than ever.’

Before going to sleep that night, Heidi had a good look at her lovely book, and thereafter, reading was her greatest delight. Sometimes in the evening Grandmamma would say, ‘Now Heidi shall read to us,’ and that made her very proud. She seemed to understand the stories better when she read them aloud, and Grandmamma was always ready with any explanation that was necessary. Her favourite story, which she constantly reread, was about the shepherd whose picture had brought the tears to her eyes when she first saw it. Now she knew it showed him happily tending his father’s sheep and goats in sunny meadows, like those on the mountain. In the next picture he had left his good home and was minding a stranger’s pigs in a foreign land. Here the sun was not shining and the countryside was grey and misty. The young man looked pale and thin in that picture, for he had nothing but scraps to eat. The last one showed his old father running with outstretched arms to greet him as he returned home sorrowful, and in rags.

With so many nice stories to read and pictures to look at, the days of Grandmamma’s visit passed happily, but all too quickly.