Heidi

13 Home Again

Mr Sesemann went upstairs feeling both anxious and annoyed, and he knocked loudly on Miss Rotten‐meier’s door. She awoke with a start to hear him say, ‘Please get up quickly and come to the dining‐room. We have to make preparations for a journey.’ She looked at her clock: its hands pointed to only half past four. She had never got up so early in her life. What could have happened? She was in such a state of curiosity and excitement that she hardly knew what she was doing, and kept looking for garments which she had already put on.

Mr Sesemann then went along the passage and pulled vigorously at the bells which communicated with the rooms where the servants slept. Sebastian, John, and Tinette all leapt out of bed and threw on their clothes just any how, thinking the ghost must have attacked their master and that he was calling for help. They sped to the dining‐room one after the other, all rather dishevelled, and were taken aback to find Mr Sesemann looking as brisk and cheerful as usual, and not at all as though he had seen a ghost. John was dispatched to fetch the carriage and horses at once, Tinette to waken Heidi and get her ready for a journey. Sebastian was sent to fetch Detie from the house where she worked.

Meanwhile Miss Rottenmeier completed her toilet, though she had put on her cap the wrong way round, so that from a distance it looked as though she were walking backwards, but Mr Sesemann rightly attributed this to her having been disturbed so early. He wasted no time on explanations, but told her to find a trunk immediately, and pack all Heidi’s belongings in it. ‘Put some of Clara’s things in as well,’ he added. ‘The child must be well provided for. Hurry, now, there’s no time to lose.’

Miss Rottenmeier was so astonished that she just stood and stared at him. She had been expecting him to tell her some terrible story about the ghost (which she would not have minded hearing by daylight). Instead she was met with these extremely businesslike (if rather inconvenient) orders. She could not understand it, and simply waited blankly for some sort of explanation. But Mr Sesemann left her, without saying anything further, and went to Clara’s bedroom. As he expected, she had been awakened by all the commotion and was most anxious to know what had happened, so he sat down at her bedside and told her the whole story, ending up, ‘Dr Classen is afraid Heidi’s health has suffered, and says she might even go up on the roof in her sleep. You can understand how dangerous that would be. So I’ve made up my mind that she must go home at once. We can’t risk anything happening to her, can we?’

Clara was very distressed at this news and tried hard to make her father change his mind, but he stood firm, only promising that if she was sensible and did not make a fuss, he would take her to Switzerland the following year. Then, seeing there were no two ways about it, she gave in, but she begged that, as a small consolation, Heidi’s trunk should be brought to her room to be packed, so that she could put in some nice things which Heidi would like. To this her father willingly agreed.

By this time Detie had arrived and was wondering uneasily why she had been sent for at such an unearthly hour. Mr Sesemann repeated to her what he had learnt about Heidi’s condition. ‘I want you to take her home at once, this very day,’ he said. Detie was very upset, remembering how Uncle Alp had told her never to show her face again upon the mountain. To have to take Heidi back to him like this, after the way she had carried her off, was asking too much of her.

‘Please do excuse me,’ she said glibly, ‘but it is not possible for me to go today, nor yet tomorrow. We’re very busy, and I really couldn’t even ask for the day off just now. Indeed, I don’t quite know when I could manage it.’

Mr Sesemann saw through her excuses, and sent her away without another word. He told Sebastian instead to prepare himself at once for a journey.

‘You’ll take the child as far as Basle today,’ he said, ‘and go on with her to her home tomorrow. I’ll give you a letter for her grandfather so there will be no need for you to explain anything and you can come straight back here. When you get to Basle, go to the hotel whose name I’ve written on this visiting card. I’m well known there, and when you show it you’ll be given a good room for the child, and they’ll find a room for you too. And now listen to me,’ he went on, ‘this is very important. You must make sure all the windows in her room are shut securely so that she can’t open them. Then, once she’s in bed, you are to lock her bedroom door on the outside for she walks in her sleep, and in a strange house it might be very dangerous if she wandered downstairs and tried to open the front door. Do you understand?’

‘So that’s what it was,’ exclaimed Sebastian, as the truth suddenly dawned upon him.

‘Yes, that was it. You’re a great coward and you can tell John he’s another. You made fine fools of yourselves, all of you!’ And with that Mr Sesemann went to his study to write to Uncle Alp. Somewhat shamefaced, Sebastian muttered to himself, ‘I wish I hadn’t let that idiot of a John push me back into the room, when he saw the figure in white! If only I’d gone after it. I certainly would if I saw it now.’ But of course by that time the sun was lighting up every corner of the room.

Meanwhile Heidi was waiting in her bedroom, dressed in her Sunday frock and wondering what was going to happen. Tinette considered her so far beneath her notice that she never threw her two words where one would do, and she had simply wakened her, told her to dress, and had taken her clothes out of the wardrobe.

When Mr Sesemann came back to the dining‐room with his letter, breakfast was on the table. ‘Where’s the child?’ he asked, and Heidi was at once fetched, and came in, giving him her usual ‘Good morning.’

‘Well, child, is that all you have to say?’ he inquired.

She looked at him questioningly.

‘I do believe nobody’s told you,’ he said with a smile. ‘You’re going home today.’

‘Home,’ she gasped, so overwhelmed that for the moment she could hardly breathe.

‘Well? Aren’t you pleased?’

‘Oh yes, I am,’ she said fervently, and the colour came into her cheeks.

‘That’s right. Now you must eat a good breakfast,’ and he took his place at the table and signed to her to join him. She tried hard but couldn’t swallow even a morsel of bread. She was not sure whether she was awake or still dreaming, and might not find herself presently standing at the front door again in her nightgown.

‘Tell Sebastian to take plenty of food with him,’ Mr Sesemann said to Miss Rottenmeier, as that lady came into the room. ‘The child is not eating anything at all — and that is not to be wondered at.’ He turned to Heidi. ‘Now go to Clara, my child, and stay with her until the carriage arrives.’ That was just what Heidi wanted to do, and she found Clara with a big trunk open beside her.

‘Come and look at the things I’ve had put in for you,’ Clara cried. ‘I hope you’ll like them. Look, there are frocks and aprons and hankies and some sewing things. Oh, and this!’ Clara held up a basket. Heidi peeped and jumped for joy, for inside were twelve beautiful rolls for Grannie. In their delight the children quite forgot that they were so soon to part, and when they heard someone call, ‘The carriage is here,’ there was no time to be sad. Heidi ran to the room which had been hers, to fetch the book which Grandmamma had given her. She always kept it under her pillow, for she could never bear to be parted from it, so she felt sure no one would have packed it. She put it in the basket. Then she looked in the cupboard and fetched out her precious old hat. Her red scarf was there too, for Miss Rottenmeier had not thought it worth putting in the trunk. Heidi wrapped it round her other treasure and put it on top of the basket where it was very conspicuous. Then she put on a pretty little hat which she had been given, and left the room.

She and Clara had to say goodbye quickly, for Mr Sesemann was waiting to put Heidi in the carriage, and Miss Rottenmeier was standing at the top of the stairs to say goodbye too. She saw the funny‐looking red bundle at once, and snatched it out of the basket and threw it on the floor. ‘Really, Adelheid,’ she scolded, ‘you can’t leave this house carrying a thing like that, and you won’t need it any more. Goodbye.’ After that Heidi did not dare to pick it up again, but she gave Mr Sesemann an imploring look.

‘Let the child take what she likes with her,’ he said sharply. ‘If she wanted kittens and tortoises too, there would be no reason to get so excited, Miss Rottenmeier.’

Heidi took up her precious bundle, her eyes shining with gratitude and happiness. ‘Goodbye,’ said Mr Sesemann, shaking hands before she got into the carriage. ‘Clara and I will often think of you. I hope you’ll have a good journey.’

‘Thank you for everything,’ said Heidi, ‘and please thank the doctor too, and give him my love.’ She remembered that the doctor had said that everything would be all right the next day, so she was sure he must have helped to make this come true. She was lifted into the carriage, the basket and a bag of provisions were handed up, then Sebastian got in.

‘Goodbye and a pleasant journey,’ Mr Sesemann called after them, as the carriage drove off.

Soon Heidi was sitting in the train, with the basket on her lap. She would not let go of it for an instant, because of the precious rolls inside. Every now and then she peeped at them and sighed with satisfaction. For a long time she spoke never a word, for she was only beginning to realize that she was really on her way home to Grandfather, and would see the mountains and Peter and Grannie. As she thought about them all, she suddenly grew anxious, and asked, ‘Sebastian, Peter’s Grannie won’t be dead, will she?’

‘Let’s hope not,’ he replied. ‘She’ll be alive all right, I expect.’

Heidi fell silent again, looking forward to the moment when she would actually give the rolls to her kind old friend. Presently she said again, ‘I wish I knew for certain that Grannie’s still alive.’

‘Oh, she’ll be alive all right. Why shouldn’t she be?’ said Sebastian, who was nearly asleep. Soon Heidi’s eyes closed too. She was so tired after her disturbed night and early rising that she dozed off, and slept soundly till Sebastian shook her by the arm, crying, ‘Wake up. We have to get out here. We’re at Basle.’

For several hours more next day they continued their journey by train, and Heidi still sat with the basket on her lap. She would not let Sebastian take it, even for a moment. She was very silent, but inside she grew more and more excited. Then, just when she was least expecting it, she heard a voice calling, ‘Mayenfeld, Mayenfeld.’ She and Sebastian jumped up in surprise, and scrambled out on the platform with the trunk. Then the train went puffing on down the valley and Sebastian looked after it with regret. He preferred travelling comfortably and without effort, and did not look forward to climbing a mountain. He felt sure it would be very dangerous, and the country seemed to him only half‐civilized. He looked about for someone to tell them the safest way to Dörfli, and near the station entrance he noticed a small cart to which a skinny pony was harnessed. A big man was carrying out to it some heavy sacks which had come off the train, and to him Sebastian put his question.

‘All the paths here are safe,’ was the answer. That did not satisfy Sebastian, who went on to ask how they could best avoid falling down precipices, and how to get a trunk up to Dörfli. The man glanced at it, then said, ‘If it’s not too heavy, I’ll take it on my cart. I’m going to Dörfli myself.’

After that it was a short step to persuade him to take Heidi, as well as her trunk, with him and to send her on the last part of the journey up the mountain with someone from the village.

‘I can go alone. I know the way all right from there,’ Heidi put in, after listening attentively to the conversation. Sebastian was delighted at having got out of the climb. He took Heidi to one side and gave her a fat packet and a letter for her grandfather. ‘The packet’s for you, a present from Mr Sesemann,’ he said. ‘Put it at the bottom of the basket and see you don’t lose it. He’d be very angry if you did.’

‘I won’t lose it,’ said Heidi, tucking both letter and packet away. She and her basket were then lifted on to the driver’s seat, while the trunk was placed in the back of the cart. Sebastian felt rather guilty as he knew he was meant to take her all the way home. He shook hands with her and reminded her with warning signs to remember what he had just given her. He was careful not to mention it out loud in the hearing of the driver. Then the man swung himself up beside Heidi, and the cart rolled off towards the mountain, while Sebastian returned to the little station to wait for a train to take him home.

The man on the cart was the baker from Dörfli, who had been to collect some flour. He had never seen Heidi, but like everyone in the village he had heard of her. He had known her parents and realized at once who she was. He was surprised to see her back again and was naturally curious to find out what had happened, so he began to talk to her.

‘You must be the little girl who used to live with Uncle Alp, your grandfather, aren’t you?’ he inquired.

‘Yes,’ said Heidi.

‘Did they treat you badly down there, that you’re coming so soon?’

‘Oh no,’ Heidi cried. ‘Everyone was very kind to me in Frankfurt.’

‘Then why are you coming back?’

‘Mr Sesemann said I could come.’

‘I’d have thought you would rather have stayed if you were so well off there.’

‘I’d a million times rather be with Grandfather on the mountain than anywhere else in the world,’ she told him.

‘Perhaps you’ll change your mind when you get there,’ muttered the baker, thinking to himself, ‘It’s a rum business, but she must know what it’s like.’

He began to whistle then, and said no more. Heidi looked around with growing delight at the mountain peaks she knew so well and which seemed to greet her like old friends. She wanted to jump down from the cart and run the rest of the way, but she managed to sit still, though she was shivering with excitement. They reached Dörfli just as the clock struck five, and there was soon a little crowd of villagers round the cart, curious to find out about the child and the trunk which had come in on it.

The baker lifted Heidi down. ‘Thank you,’ she said hastily. ‘Grandfather will come and fetch the trunk,’ and she turned to run off home at once, but the villagers crowded round her, with a string of questions. She struggled through them, looking so pale and anxious that they murmured among themselves, as they let her go, ‘You can see how frightened she looks, and no wonder,’ and they added, ‘If the poor child had anywhere else in the world to go, she’d never come running back to that old dragon.’ The baker, aware that he was the only person who knew anything on that subject, now spoke up. ‘A gentleman brought her to Mayenfeld and said goodbye to her in a very friendly way, and he gave me what I asked for bringing her up here without any haggling, and something over as well. She has been well treated, wherever she’s been, and has come home of her own accord.’ These little bits of news spread so rapidly that before nightfall every house in the village knew that Heidi had left a good home in Frankfurt to come back, of her own accord, to her grandfather.

As soon as she got away from the people, Heidi rushed uphill as fast as she could go. She had to stop every now and then to get her breath, for her basket was heavy and the mountain slope steep, but she had only one thought: ‘Will Grannie still be sitting in the corner by her spinning‐wheel? Oh, I hope she hasn’t died.’ Then she saw the little house in the hollow, and her heart beat faster than ever. She raced up to the door but could hardly open it, she was trembling so much, but she managed it, and flew into the little room quite out of breath and unable to say a word.

‘Goodness me,’ someone said from the corner of the room, ‘that was how Heidi used to come in! How I wish she would come and see me again. Who is it?’

‘It’s Heidi, Grannie,’ she cried, and threw herself on to the old woman’s lap and hugged her, too overcome with happiness to say anything more. And at first Grannie was so surprised, she could not speak either, but just stroked Heidi’s head. Then she murmured, ‘Yes, it’s Heidi’s curlyhair and her voice. Praise God she’s come back to us.’ A few big tears fell from her old blind eyes on to Heidi’s hand. ‘It’s really you, child.’

‘Yes, really and truly, Grannie. Don’t cry,’ said Heidi. ‘I’m here and I’ll never go away again. I’ll come and see you every day. And you won’t have to eat hard bread for a few days, Grannie,’ she added, and she brought out the rolls one by one and laid them on Grannie’s lap.

‘Child, what a present to bring me!’ exclaimed the old woman, as her hands moved over the load on her lap. ‘But you’re the best present of all.’ And she stroked Heidi’s hot cheeks. ‘Say something, anything at all, just to let me hear your voice.’

‘I was so afraid you might have died while I was away,’ said Heidi, ‘then I would never have seen you again, and you wouldn’t have had the rolls.’

Peter’s mother came in at this moment and stared in amazement when she saw Heidi. ‘Fancy you here,’ she said at last, ‘and she’s wearing such a pretty dress, Grannie. She looks so fine I hardly recognized her. And a little hat with a feather — I suppose that is yours too. Put it on and let me see you in it.’

‘No, I won’t,’ said Heidi very decidedly. ‘You can have that. I don’t want it any more. I’ve got my old one.’ And she opened her red bundle and there it was, more battered than ever after the journey, but that didn’t worry her. She had never forgotten her grandfather saying that he would not like to see her in a hat with a feather, and that was why she had taken such care of the old one, for she had always counted on going back to him.

‘That’s silly,’ said Bridget. ‘I can’t possibly take it from you. It’s a very smart hat, and if you really don’t want it, perhaps the schoolmaster’s daughter would buy it from you.’ Heidi said no more, but put the hat away in a corner out of sight. Then she took off her pretty dress, and put the old red scarf on over her petticoat.

‘Goodbye, Grannie. I must go on to Grandfather now, but I’ll come and see you again tomorrow.’

Grannie hugged her as if she could not bear to let her go.

‘Why have you taken off your pretty frock?’ asked Bridget.

‘I’d rather go to Grandfather like this, otherwise he might not recognize me. You hardly knew me in it.’

Bridget went outside with her. ‘You could have kept it on,’ she said, ‘he’d have known you all right. But you be careful. Peter says Uncle Alp is so bad‐tempered now, and never speaks to him.’

Heidi said goodbye and went on her way. The evening sun shone rosily on the mountains, and she kept turning round to look at them, for they lay behind her as she climbed. Everything seemed even more beautiful than she had expected. The twin peaks of Falkniss, snow‐covered Scesaplana, the pasture land, and the valley below were all red and gold, and there were little pink clouds floating in the sky. It was so lovely, Heidi stood with tears pouring down her cheeks, and thanked God for letting her come home to it again. She could find no words to express her feelings, but lingered until the light began to fade and then ran on. Soon she could see the tops of the fir trees, then the roof, then the whole hut and last Grandfather himself, sitting on the bench outside and smoking his pipe, just as he used to do. Before he had time to see who it was, she had dropped her basket on the ground and flung her arms around him, crying, ‘Grandfather, Grandfather.’ She could say no more, and he couldn’t speak at all. For the first time in years, his eyes were wet with tears and he had to brush his hand over them. Then he loosened her arms from his neck and set her on his knee.

‘So you’ve come back, Heidi,’ he said. ‘Why’s that, eh? And you don’t look so very grand either. Did they send you away?’

‘Oh no, Grandfather, don’t think that. Clara and her father and Grandmamma were all very kind to me. But I was very homesick. I used to get a lump in my throat, as if I was choking. But I didn’t say anything, because they would have thought I was not grateful. Then suddenly Mr Sesemann called me very early one morning — but I think the doctor had something to do with it. Oh, I expect it’s all in the letter.’ She jumped down and ran to fetch the letter and the fat packet.

‘The packet is for you,’ he said, laying it on the bench. Then he read the letter and put it in his pocket without a word.

‘Do you think you could drink some milk, Heidi?’ he asked, preparing to go indoors with her. ‘Bring the packet with you. There’s money in it for you to buy a bed and any clothes you may need.’

‘I don’t want it,’ said Heidi gaily. ‘I’ve got a bed already, and Clara gave me so many clothes I’m sure I shall never want any more.’

‘Bring it in all the same, and put it in the cupboard,’ said Uncle Alp. ‘You’ll find a use for it one day.’

Heidi brought it indoors. She looked round eagerly at everything, then climbed up to the loft. ‘Oh, my bed’s gone,’ she cried, very disappointed.

‘We can soon make it again,’ he called up. ‘I didn’t know you’d be coming back. Now come and have some milk.’

She sat down on her old high chair and drained her mug as though she had never tasted anything so delicious in her life. Then she drew a deep breath and said, ‘There’s nothing as good as our milk anywhere in the world.’

There came a shrill whistle then, and Heidi shot out of the door to see Peter coming down the path, surrounded by his lively goats. When he caught sight of her, he stopped dead and stared in astonishment.

‘Hullo, Peter,’ she called and ran towards him. ‘Oh, there’s Daisy and Dusky. Do you remember me?’ They did indeed seem to recognize her voice, and rubbed their heads against her, bleating. She called the other goats by name and they all came crowding round her. Impatient Finch jumped clean over two other animals to reach her, and even shy Snowflake pressed forward and butted big Turk to one side. Turk was very surprised and tossed his head as if to say, ‘Look what you’re doing!’ Heidi was delighted to see them all again. She put an arm round one and patted another. The animals pushed her this way and that with their affectionate nudgings, but at last she came to Peter’s side.

‘Aren’t you going to say hallo to me?’ she asked.

He recovered himself then and said, ‘So you’re back again,’ adding, as he always used to in the old days, ‘Coming up with me tomorrow?’

‘Not tomorrow, but perhaps the day after. I must go and see Grannie tomorrow.’

‘I’m glad you’re back,’ he said, with a wide grin, and prepared to move on, but he found it very difficult to get the goats together again. He called and scolded, but as soon as he had gathered them round him, they all turned to follow Heidi who was taking Daisy and Dusky towards their stall, with an arm thrown round each. She had to go right inside with them and shut the door, before Peter could get the rest of the herd on the move.

When she went indoors again she found her grandfather had made her a lovely sweet‐smelling bed, with hay which had not long been gathered in, and had covered it comfortably with clean linen sheets. When she lay down in it a little later, she slept as she had not done all the time she had been away.

During the night Uncle Alp went up to the loft at least ten times to make sure she was all right, and to see that the round hole in the wall was still stopped with hay to prevent the moonlight shining on her face. But Heidi did not stir. She slept soundly all night long, satisfied through and through. She was home again. She had seen the sun setting on the mountains. She had heard the wind whistling through the fir trees.