Heidi

20 More Visitors

The winter passed, and it was May again. The last snows had disappeared, and the little mountain streams raced in full flood down to the valley. The mountain‐sides were green again, and bathed in warm, clear sunlight. The flowers were opening their petals among the fresh green grass. The gay young winds of spring blew over the tops of the fir trees, carrying off showers of old needles to make room for the new growth. High in the blue sky the old hawk hovered and circled once more, while the golden sunshine played round the hut, and made the ground warm and dry, and fit to sit upon.

Heidi was back on the mountain, running hither and thither to all her old haunts, unable as ever to decide which she liked best. She listened entranced to the sound of the wind blowing down from the heights, gathering strength as it came nearer, till it came up with the fir trees, and spent itself on their branches. She lay on the ground and watched the beetles in the grass. She listened to the hum and buzz of insects. It seemed to her that all those tiny creatures were singing ‘We’re on the mountain! We’re on the mountain!’ in tune with her own heart. Her lips parted and she drew in great draughts of the fine sparkling air, and thought that spring had never been so beautiful before.

The familiar sound of hammering and sawing also reached her ears, and presently she ran to the shed to see what Grandfather was doing there. In front of it stood a chair, quite finished, and he was busy making another.

‘Oh, I know what these are for!’ she cried gleefully. ‘We shall want them when they all come up from Frankfurt. This will be for Grandmamma, and the one you’re making for Clara. I suppose you’ll have to make a third,’ she added reluctantly, ‘— or do you think Miss Rottenmeier might not come?’

‘I really don’t know,’ he told her, ‘but it would be better to have a chair ready so that we can ask her to sit down if she does come.’ Heidi looked thoughtfully at the straight wooden chair, without arms, and tried to imagine Miss Rottenmeier sitting on it.

‘I don’t believe she would ever sit on a chair like this, Grandfather,’ she said at last.

‘Then we’ll invite her to sit outside on the turf featherbed,’ he replied quietly.

Heidi was not sure what this strange article of furniture might be, but Peter’s familiar whistling and shouting above distracted her, and a few moments later she was surrounded by her old friends, the goats, who leaped about her as eagerly as ever, bleating for joy. Peter pushed his way through them and handed her a letter.

‘Here you are,’ he said, with no other explanation.

‘Did you find a letter for me up on the pasture?’ she inquired in surprise.

‘No.’

‘Where did you get it, then?’

‘Out of my satchel.’

The fact was that the postman in Dörfli had given him the letter the evening before, and he had put it in his empty bag. In the morning his bread and cheese had gone in on top of it, and he had forgotten about it when he called at the hut that morning for Uncle’s two goats. He only found it when he was shaking out the last crumbs of food at dinner time. Heidi looked at the envelope carefully, and then ran to her grandfather.

‘Look,’ she cried, ‘I’ve got a letter from Clara. Shall I read it aloud?’

He at once prepared himself to listen, and Peter, who also wanted to hear it, propped himself up against the door post, as he found it easier to attend in that position.

When Heidi came to the end of the letter, Peter leapt away from the wall and began to swish his stick in the air furiously. The goats were so frightened that they bounded down the mountain at a great rate, and Peter went after them brandishing the stick as though he were challenging someone unseen. The prospect of more visitors from Frankfurt had made him very angry indeed.

Heidi, on the contrary, was overjoyed and felt she must go down next day and tell Grannie all about it. She was sure to be interested in who was coming and, almost more important, who was not, for the old woman knew all the members of the Sesemann household very well now by hearsay.

Now that the weather was so fine, she could go alone, and set out early the following afternoon. It was delightful to go running down the mountainside in the bright sunshine, with the wind at her back, and she was soon there. Grannie was back in her usual corner, spinning, but she looked sad and worried. Peter had come home the evening before in such a bad temper, and had told them that so many people were coming from Frankfurt to visit Heidi, and he didn’t know what might happen after that. All night Grannie had lain awake worrying about it. Heidi went at once to the little stool which was always kept ready for her, and began to tell her great news, getting more and more excited as she talked about it. Then all of a sudden she stopped short in the middle of a sentence, and asked:

‘What’s the matter, Grannie? Aren’t you pleased about it?’

‘Yes, yes,’ Grannie replied, trying to smile. ‘I’m glad for your sake, because it makes you so happy.’

‘But something’s troubling you,’ Heidi insisted. ‘Are you afraid Miss Rottenmeier may come after all?’ and she began to feel worried herself at this idea.

‘No, no, it’s nothing. Give me your hand so that I know you’re really here,’ said Grannie. ‘It will be best for you, I’m sure, even if I don’t survive it.’

‘I don’t want what’s best for me, if you’re not going to survive it,’ declared Heidi.

This convinced Grannie that the friends from Frankfurt were really coming to take Heidi away. No doubt they wanted to have her back, now that she was quite well again. That was what was troubling her, but she wished she had not let Heidi notice it. The child was so tender‐hearted, she might refuse to go away and leave them, and that would not be right. To change the subject, Grannie now said:

‘I know what would do me good, and make me happy again. Please read me the hymn that begins, “Though the storm clouds gather”.’

By now Heidi knew the old hymn‐book very well, and she soon found the one Grannie wanted and read in her clear voice:

‘I needed to be reminded of that,’ said Grannie, and the troubled look left her face.

It was dusk when Heidi went home, and the stars came twinkling out one by one as she climbed up to the hut, sending her a greeting out of the sky. She stopped sometimes to gaze up at them, feeling a deep peacefulness in her heart, and said a little prayer of thanks. She found her grandfather also looking at the stars spangling the heavens so brilliantly.

All through that month the sun shone down every day from a cloudless sky, and morning after morning Uncle Alp looked out, remarking in wonder, ‘This is indeed a year of sun! It will bring the grass and flowers on quickly and the pasture will be so rich that Peter will have to watch his army or they’ll get out of hand from over‐feeding.’ And Peter, when he heard him, swung his stick with an ‘I’ll see about that’ air.

So May passed, and June came with longer days and hotter sun, which brought the flowers out all over the mountain, filling the air with their sweet scents. One morning towards the end of the month, Heidi came out of the hut after doing her little round of housework. She intended to climb up behind the fir trees to see a big clump of centaury, which was in full flower and looked very beautiful with the sun shining through its petals. She only reached the corner of the hut, however, when she gave a shout which brought her grandfather out of the shed to see what had happened. ‘Grandfather, come and look! Come and look!’ she cried, beside herself with excitement.

When he looked in the direction she was pointing, he saw quite a remarkable procession was coming up the mountain. First came two men, carrying between them a chair on poles, and in it sat a girl, very carefully wrapped up. A stately looking lady rode on horseback behind them, gazing about her with interest and chatting to a young man who was holding the bridle. Then came two more men, one pushing an empty wheel‐chair and the other carrying an enormous bundle of rugs and wraps in a basket on his back.

‘They’ve come! They’ve come!’ Heidi shouted, jumping up and down with delight. And sure enough, it was the long expected party from Frankfurt. As they came near the hut, the chair‐carriers put their burden down. Heidi sped over the grass to welcome Clara and hug her. Mrs Sesemann dismounted too, and Heidi ran to greet her also. Then the old lady turned to Uncle Alp, who had come forward with outstretched hand. They had heard so much about each other that they met as old friends and greeted one another without formality.

‘My dear Uncle,’ Mrs Sesemann exclaimed, ‘what a magnificent place to live! I can’t imagine anything more beautiful. A king might envy you. And my little friend Heidi looks so well, like a June rose,’ and she drew the child to her, stroking her fresh pink cheeks lovingly. ‘It’s so fine, I don’t know where to look first. What do you think of it, Clara?’

Clara had never seen or dreamed of anything like it. ‘It’s heavenly,’ she sighed, ‘simply heavenly. Oh Grand‐mamma, I wish I could stay here for ever!’

Uncle Alp brought the wheel‐chair forward and spread some rugs in it. Then he went over to Clara and said,

‘Supposing I carry you to your usual chair? That would be more comfortable, I’m sure. This one you’re in must be a trifle hard.’ Without more ado he lifted her in his strong arms and settled her gently into it. Then he wrapped the rugs round her as tenderly as though he had spent the whole of his life looking after invalids. Mrs Sesemann watched him with astonishment.

‘My dear Uncle,’ she exclaimed, ‘if I knew where you had learnt to care like that for the sick, I would send all the nurses of my acquaintance to study there. How did you come by it?’

‘From experience and not training,’ he replied, a shadow falling across his face, for his thoughts had travelled swiftly back to the time when he was a soldier, and had brought his captain off the battlefield so badly wounded that he spent the rest of his days on a couch, hardly able to move. No one but Uncle Alp was allowed near him, and he had looked after him till he died. He had quite naturally handled Clara as he used to deal with that other sufferer, and he understood without telling the little services which would make her comfortable.

Clara could not drag her eyes away from the scene which stretched before her, the fir trees, the mountains with great grey peaks, glistening in the sun. ‘Oh Heidi!’ she cried, ‘if only I could run about with you, and look at all the things I know so well from what you have told me!’

Heidi took hold of the chair handle and, pushing with all her might, managed to get it as far as the firs. Clara had never in her life seen anything like these tall old trees, with their straight trunks, and long thick branches sweeping almost to the ground. Even Grandmamma, who had followed them, had never seen such trees before. She stood admiring them, thinking how long they must have stood there looking down on the valley below, while generation after generation of men came and went, were born and died, and they stood fast, for ever stretching upwards to the sky.

Heidi wheeled Clara on to the goat‐stall and opened the door wide so that she could have a good look inside, though as the goats were not at home, there was nothing particular to see.

‘Oh Grandmamma,’ said Clara regretfully, ‘I wish I could stay till Daisy and Dusky get back with Peter, and the rest of the goats.’

‘Let’s enjoy the beautiful things we can see, my dear, and not think about those we cannot,’ said Mrs Sesemann who was following the chair in its progress.

‘Just look at those clumps of pretty red flowers and all the harebells,’ exclaimed Clara. ‘I wish I could pick some.’

That was enough for Heidi who immediately dashed off and came back with a beautiful bunch, which she laid on Clara’s lap. ‘Wait till you see the flowers up on the pasture, though,’ she said. ‘There the meadows are absolutely covered with them. There’s centaury, and many, many more hare‐bells than here and thousands of yellow rock‐roses. Then there are things with big leaves which Grandfather calls Bright Eyes, and little brown flowers with round heads which smell delicious. I could stay there for hours — it’s all so lovely!’ Heidi’s eyes danced as she tried to make Clara see it all, and soon Clara caught her excitement too.

‘Do you think I could ever get up as high as that, Grandmamma?’ she asked anxiously. ‘If only I could walk and clamber about with you, Heidi.’

‘I’ll push you up,’ promised Heidi, ‘I’m sure I could, for the chair goes very easily,’ and as if to show how easily, she went running off with it at such a rate that they might have gone right over the edge if Uncle Alp hadn’t caught the handle in the nick of time.

During the tour of inspection, he had been fetching out the table and chairs, and had laid everything ready for their meal. Milk and cheese were warming on the stove, and before long the company sat down to dinner. Mrs Sesemann was delighted with this unusual ‘dining‐room’, with its views right down the valley and away, over the peaks, to the blue sky beyond. A gentle breeze fanned them as they sat at table, and rustled in the trees, making agreeable music.

‘I’ve never enjoyed anything so much,’ declared Grand‐mamma, ‘it’s quite magnificent,’ and then ‘What’s this I see? A second piece of toasted cheese for Clara?’

‘Oh, it is so good, Grandmamma. Better than anything they give me at Ragaz,’ said Clara, and she took another bite with obvious enjoyment.

‘Just keep on like that,’ said Uncle Alp. ‘It’s our mountain air — it makes up for any deficiencies in the cooking.’

Mrs Sesemann and Uncle Alp got on famously together, and found they had many ideas in common. They might have been friends for years, and time passed quickly, but at last she looked towards the west and said, ‘We shall have to go very soon, Clara. The sun’s going down, and the men will be back any moment with the horse and your chair.’

Clara’s face fell at that. ‘Can’t we stay?’ she implored. ‘Another hour, or two? I haven’t even been inside the hut yet, or seen Heidi’s bed. Oh, I wish there were another ten hours of this day!’

‘I am afraid that’s not possible,’ said her grandmother. But she too wanted to see inside the hut, so they all got up and Uncle Alp wheeled Clara over to the doorway. The chair was too wide to go through it, but he picked her up and carried her. Mrs Sesemann looked at everything with great interest, and was delighted with the orderliness and the cunning arrangements of the place.

‘And is your bed up here, Heidi?’ she asked, beginning without more ado to mount the ladder to the hayloft. ‘Oh, how sweet it smells — a fine healthy place to sleep.’ She peeped through the hole in the wall which was Heidi’s window. Then Uncle Alp came up the ladder with Clara in his arms and Heidi hopped up after them, and they all crowded together, admiring the bed.

‘Oh Heidi, what a lovely place to sleep!’ cried Clara in delight. ‘Fancy being able to lie in bed and look right out into the sky and hear the fir trees, and smell such nice scents. I’ve never imagined such a heavenly bedroom.’

Uncle Alp glanced then at Mrs Sesemann. ‘I’ve been thinking,’ he began, ‘and I hope you’ll not object to the suggestion. Suppose you leave your little girl here for a time. I’m sure she’d soon get stronger. You brought so many rugs and wraps with you that we could easily make her a comfortable bed up here, and I promise to look after her and give her all the attention she needs. You need not worry about that.’

Clara and Heidi were overjoyed at his words, and Grandmamma turned a beaming smile on him.

‘What a kind fellow you are,’ she said. ‘You must have read what was in my own mind. I was actually thinking how much good it would do Clara to stay here — but I feared it would be too much to ask of you. Then you come out with an offer which solves the whole problem, and as though it were the easiest thing in the world. I can’t thank you enough.’ And she shook him warmly by the hand.

Immediately he set to work. First he carried Clara back to her chair outside the hut, with Heidi skipping round them in a great state of excitement. Then he took up an armful of the rugs saying, ‘What a good thing you came up equipped for a winter campaign! We shall make good use of these.’

‘Foresight is a virtue and averts many a misfortune,’ said Mrs Sesemann cheerfully. ‘For a journey to the mountains we should have been foolish not to prepare for storms. We’ve been lucky enough to escape them, but you see my precautions are proving useful.’

As they talked, they climbed up to the loft again and began to prepare Clara’s bed, piling one thing on top of another till the erection began to look like a fortress. ‘Just let a single stalk of hay poke its way through that,’ said Grandmamma, as she tucked the ends well in and patted the surface to make sure it was smooth and even. Then down she came, well satisfied, and went out to the children, who were eagerly discussing how they would spend their precious days together.

‘How long can I stay?’ Clara asked as soon as her grandmother reappeared.

‘We must ask Uncle that,’ was the reply, and as he arrived at that moment, he told them gravely that, in his opinion, they would be able to judge in about four weeks whether the mountain air was really doing Clara good. The children clapped their hands at this, for they had not expected half as much.

The men with Clara’s chair were now sent off and Mrs Sesemann got ready to leave. ‘I won’t say goodbye, Grand‐mamma,’ said Clara, ‘because you’ll come up sometimes to see how we’re getting on, won’t you? We shall love that, won’t we, Heidi?’ But Heidi’s reply was simply to jump up and down, and clap her hands.

Mrs Sesemann then mounted her horse, and Uncle Alp took the bridle, to lead them down the steep slope. She begged him not to trouble himself, but he declared his attention of seeing her safely back to Dörfli, for the steep path could be dangerous to anyone on horseback. Mrs Sesemann did not care to stay on in quiet little Dörfli alone, but decided to go back to Ragaz and make an occasional trip to the mountains from there.

Peter arrived with the goats before Uncle Alp got back, and Heidi was immediately surrounded by them, and Clara too. Heidi called each one by name so that Clara could make their acquaintance at last and see Snowflake, Finch, Daisy and Dusky, and all the others for herself, as she had longed to do — not forgetting big Turk. Peter stood a little to one side, glaring at the newcomer, and made no reply to their friendly greetings. Instead, he slashed out violently with his stick, as his habit was when he was out of humour, swishing it to and fro as though he wanted to break it. Then he ran off with his herd.

Perhaps the loveliest moment of all that exciting day for Clara came when she and Heidi were in bed in the hayloft, and she found herself looking straight out to the starry sky. ‘Oh, Heidi,’ she cried, ‘it feels as if we were riding in a high sort of carriage right into heaven.’

‘Why do you think the stars twinkle so brightly at us?’ asked Heidi.

‘I don’t know. Tell me,’ Clara replied.

‘Because they are up in heaven and know that God looks after us all on earth so that we oughtn’t really ever to be afraid, because everything is bound to come right in the end. That’s why they nod to us and twinkle like that. Let’s say our prayers now, Clara, and ask God to take care of us.’

They both sat up in bed then, and said their prayers, and after that Heidi laid her head on her arm and was asleep in no time. But Clara lay awake looking out at the sky, hardly able to close her eyes on those wonderful stars, which she had scarcely ever seen before, for she never went out at night in the ordinary way, and at home the curtains were drawn tight before they appeared in the sky. Even when she became drowsy, she kept opening her eyes again to make sure that two particularly bright stars were still shining into the room, nodding and twinkling to her, as Heidi had said. And when she could keep awake no longer, the stars seemed to be there still in her dreams.