15 Preparation for a Journey

One sunny September morning, the kind doctor who had been responsible for Heidi being sent home walked along the street to the Sesemanns’ house. It was the sort of day on which everyone should have been happy, but he went along with eyes downcast, and did not once lift them to the blue sky above. His hair had grown whiter since the spring and he wore an air of great sadness. His only daughter had died recently and he had never recovered his spirits, for she had been the great joy of his life since his wife’s death some time before.

Sebastian opened the door to him and showed him in with something more than respect, for besides being a close friend of the family, the doctor always treated the servants too with kindness and courtesy, and they looked on him as a friend.

‘Everything all right, Sebastian?’ he asked, as he was taken upstairs, and as he entered the study, Mr Sesemann rose to greet him, saying:

‘I’m glad to see you, doctor. I want to talk to you again about the Swiss trip. Haven’t you changed your mind, now that Clara seems so much better?’

‘My dear Sesemann, I never knew such a man!’ exclaimed the doctor as he sat down. ‘This is the third time that you’ve sent for me to tell you the same thing. But there’s no convincing you. I wish your mother was here. She’d see my point of view.’

‘I know. You must be almost at the end of your patience with me. But I’m sure you realize how I dislike refusing the child something I have actually promised her; and to which she has been looking forward so eagerly for months. She was so patient all through her last bad attack, believing that she would soon be in Switzerland and able to visit her little friend in the mountains. And now you want me to tell her she can’t go. She’s missed so much in life already, I can’t bear to disappoint her over this.’

‘I’m afraid you must,’ said the doctor very decidedly. His friend sat in silence, looking very depressed, so he continued, ‘Just consider. This has been the worst summer Clara has had for many years. The fatigue of such a journey as you propose is out of the question for her. We’re already into September, and although there may still be some fine weather in the mountains, it may also be quite cold. The days are getting shorter and there could be no question of Clara spending the night up there with Heidi, so she could only be there for an hour or so. It’s a long way from Ragaz, as you know, and of course she’d have to be carried up the mountain. Surely you see it’s not practicable. But I’ll go in with you and talk to Clara. She’s a reasonable child, so I’m sure she’ll understand, and agree to what I am going to propose. Let her go to Ragaz next May and have some treatment there until the weather gets really warm. Then she can be carried up the mountain occasionally, and she will certainly be able to enjoy the visits far more when she’s feeling stronger, than she would now. You understand, Sesemann, that she must have the greatest care if she is to recover.’

Mr Sesemann listened at first with a resigned expression on his face, then got to his feet, saying anxiously, ‘Doctor, tell me the truth. Have you any real hope of a full recovery?’

The doctor shrugged his shoulders, with a thoughtful air. ‘Not a great deal,’ he admitted, ‘but think, my friend. At least you still have your child. She loves you and looks forward to your return when you go away. You don’t come back to an empty house and sit down alone to your meals. And your child is happy at home. Even if she does miss much, she’s still better off than many children. Count your blessings. Remember how lucky you are to have each other.’

Mr Sesemann paced up and down the room, as he always did when he was thinking hard. Then he stopped abruptly in front of his friend and patted his shoulder. ‘Doctor, I’ve an idea. I can’t bear to see you look so unlike your old self. You ought to have a change. How would it be if you were to go to Switzerland and visit Heidi on our behalf?’

This suggestion took the doctor quite by surprise, but he was not allowed to speak, for Mr Sesemann was so pleased with the idea that he seized him by the arm immediately and hurried him off to his daughter’s room. Clara was as usual very pleased to see her nice friendly doctor, who nearly always had something amusing to tell her when he came, in spite of his own sorrow. She understood about that and would gladly have helped to make him his old cheerful self again.

They sat down beside her, and her father took her hand and began to talk about the trip to Switzerland and how much he had been looking forward to it. He told her briefly that it would have to be postponed and, dreading to see her upset as he feared she would be, he passed quickly on to his plan for the doctor to go, stressing how good it would be for him to get away.

Clara could not keep the tears from her eyes though she knew her father hated to see her cry, but it was very hard to have to give up the visit to Heidi, for she had counted on it all through the long and lonely hours of her illness. But her father would never have disappointed her unless he thought it important for her good, she knew that, so she blinked back the tears and turned to the doctor.

‘Oh, please,’ she begged softly, ‘please go and see Heidi for me. Then, when you come back, you will be able to tell me all about it — how she is, and about her grandfather and Peter and the goats. I almost feel I know them all already! And you’ll be able to take presents to Heidi and to Grannie. I had them all planned. You will go, won’t you? And I promise I’ll take as much cod‐liver oil as you like!’

It may or may not have been the cod‐liver oil which decided him, but the offer certainly made him smile and he said, ‘Then of course I must go, for then you’ll grow fat and rosy as Papa and I would like to see you. Have you decided when I am to start?’

‘Tomorrow morning, if possible,’ Clara replied. ‘She’s right,’ said her father. ‘It’s a pity to lose a single day of this beautiful weather when you might be up in the mountains.’

The doctor laughed a little wryly. ‘You’ll be telling me next that I ought to be there already! I see I’ll have to start getting ready at once.’

But Clara had still a great deal to tell him about what he was to look at specially for her, and the many messages he was to take to Heidi. She would have to send the presents round to his house as soon as Miss Rottenmeier had helped her pack them. The doctor then promised to set out, if not tomorrow, at least within the next few days and to bring her back a full account of everything he saw and heard.

Servants have a remarkable faculty of knowing what is going on in a house, long before they are actually told, and Sebastian and Tinette were particularly good at it. As Sebastian accompanied the doctor downstairs, Tinette went to answer Clara’s bell.

‘Go out and buy enough of those little cakes I like, to fill this,’ said Clara, holding out a large box. Tinette took it disdainfully by one corner and let it dangle from her hand.

‘Such a fuss,’ she muttered pertly, as she went out.

And as he showed the doctor out, Sebastian said, ‘Will you please give my regards to the little miss?’

‘What, Sebastian,’ said the doctor in his friendly way, ‘you already know I’m going away, then.’

Sebastian coughed. ‘I am — er — I have — er — I hardly know how… Oh yes, I remember. I was in the dining‐room and heard the name mentioned and you know how one thought leads to another…’

‘I do indeed,’ said the doctor with a smile. ‘And the more one thinks, the more one knows. I will certainly deliver your message. Goodbye.’ He turned to go, but was prevented by the arrival of Miss Rottenmeier, her shawl blown out like a sail by the strong wind. The doctor took a step back to let her pass, and she did likewise, being accustomed to treat him with respect and consideration. So they stood, each holding back for the other to pass, until an extra strong gust of wind blew her indoors with all sails set! The doctor just got out of the way in time as she was carried past him. Her temper had been somewhat ruffled by the wind’s unruliness, but as she came back to greet him with due decorum, the doctor smoothed her down as he knew very well how to do. He told her about the plans for his holiday, and, in the most flattering way, asked her to pack the parcel for Heidi as only she could. Then he took his leave.

Clara quite expected to have a tussle with Miss Rottenmeier about sending Heidi all the things she had collected for her, but all went well. That difficult woman was in an exceptionally good mood. She cleared the big table so that everything could be spread out for Clara’s inspection. The packing was no easy task for there were so many different things. First there was a thick coat with a hood, so that Heidi could go and visit Grannie during the winter whenever she wanted to, without having to wait until her grandfather was free to take her down, wrapped in the old sack. Next came a thick, warm shawl for Grannie to wrap herself in when cold winds howled round the hut. Then there was the box of little cakes for her to eat sometimes with her coffee as a change from the rolls. There was an enormous sausage, which Clara had originally intended to send to Peter, because he never had anything but bread and cheese to eat. On second thoughts, however, she decided to send it to Bridget to share out among all three of them, lest he might eat it all up at once. There was a pouch of tobacco for Grandfather, who enjoyed a pipe when he sat outside his hut in the evening, and finally, there were a lot of little surprise packets, which Clara had specially enjoyed getting for Heidi. Miss Rottenmeier surveyed the collection of articles thoughtfully, considering how best to pack them, and Clara looked on, imagining Heidi dancing and shouting with excitement when the great parcel arrived. The packing was soon done, and well done, and the parcel was ready for Sebastian to carry at once to the doctor’s house.

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