Heidi

5 Two Unexpected Visitors

A winter passed and then another happy summer, and Heidi’s second winter on the mountain was nearly over. She began to look forward eagerly to the spring, when warm winds would melt the snow and all the blue and yellow flowers would bloom again. Then she would go up to the pasture once more, and that she always enjoyed more than anything. She was now seven and had learnt a great many useful things from her grandfather. She knew how to handle the goats, and Daisy and Dusky ran after her like pet dogs, bleating with pleasure at the sound of her voice. Twice during the winter Peter had brought up messages from the schoolmaster in Dörfli, to say that Uncle Alp must send the child who was living with him to school. She was quite old enough, and ought in fact to have started the winter before. Both times Uncle Alp replied that if the schoolmaster had anything to say to him, he could always be found at home — but he did not mean to send the child to school. These messages Peter delivered faithfully.

When the March sun began to melt the snow on the slopes, the first snowdrops came out. The trees had shaken off their burden of snow and their branches were swaying freely in the wind. Heidi spent her time between the hut, the goat‐stall, and the fir trees, and kept running to report to her grandfather how much bigger the patch of green grass had grown. One morning, just as she was dashing out of the hut for about the tenth time, she saw an old man standing on the threshold, dressed in black and looking very solemn. He saw she was startled and said in a friendly voice, ‘You needn’t be afraid of me. I’m fond of children. Come and shake hands. I’m sure you must be Heidi. Where’s your grandfather?’

‘He’s indoors, making wooden spoons,’ she told him, and showed him in.

He was the old pastor from Dörfli who had been a neighbour of Uncle Alp’s when he lived there. ‘Good morning, my friend,’ he said, as he went up to him.

Uncle Alp looked up in surprise, and got to his feet. ‘Good morning, pastor,’ he replied. Then he pulled forward a chair, adding, ‘If you don’t mind a hard seat, take this one.’

‘I haven’t seen you for a long time,’ said the pastor, when he had sat down.

‘Nor I you,’ was the reply.

‘And now I’ve come to talk to you about something. I expect you can guess what.’ He paused and glanced at Heidi who was standing by the door, looking at him with interest.

‘Run and take some salt to the goats, Heidi, and stay with them until I fetch you,’ said her grandfather, and she did as she was told at once.

‘That child should have gone to school this winter, if not last,’ the pastor went on. ‘The teacher sent you a warning, but you didn’t take any notice. What do you intend to do with her, neighbour?’

‘I don’t intend to send her to school.’

The pastor stared at Uncle Alp, who was sitting with his arms folded and a very stubborn expression on his face.

‘Then what will become of her?’ he asked. ‘She’ll grow up with the goats and the birds. They won’t teach her any bad ideas, and she’ll be very happy.’

‘She’s not a goat, nor a bird, but a little girl. She may not learn anything bad from such companions, but they won’t teach her to read or to write, and it’s high time she began. I’ve come to tell you this in all friendliness, so that you can think it over during the summer and make your plans accordingly. This is the last winter when the child can stay up here without any education. Next winter she must come regularly to school.’

‘She’ll do no such thing,’ said the old man obstinately.

‘Do you really mean that nothing we can say will make you see reason about this? You’ve been about the world and must have seen and learnt a great deal. I should have credited you with more sense, neighbour.’

‘Would you indeed,’ said Uncle Alp drily, but his voice showed that he was not quite easy in his mind. ‘Do you think I’m going to send a little girl like Heidi down the mountain every day next winter, no matter how cold or stormy it may be? And have her come back at night when it is often blowing and snowing so hard that it’s difficult for a grown man to keep his feet? Perhaps you remember the queer spells her mother used to have. Such a strain might well make this child develop something of the same sort. If anyone tries to force me to send her, I’m quite prepared to go to law about it. Then we’ll see what will happen.’

‘You’re right so far,’ agreed the pastor amiably. ‘It wouldn’t be possible to send her to school from here. And you’re fond of her, I can see. Won’t you, for her sake, do what you should have done long ago — come back to Dörfli to live? What sort of a life do you lead up here, at odds with God and man? And there’s not a soul to help you if you were in any trouble. I can’t imagine how even you survive the cold in winter, and I’m amazed that the child can stand up to it at all.’

‘The child has young blood and a warm bed, I’d have you know,’ Uncle Alp replied. ‘And I can always find plenty of wood. My shed is full of it and the fire never goes out the whole winter through. I’ve no intention of coming back to Dörfli to live. The people there despise me and I them, so it’s better for us to keep apart.’

‘It is not good for you,’ said the pastor. ‘I know what you are missing. Believe me, people don’t feel so unkindly towards you as you think. Make your peace with God, neighbour, and ask His forgiveness, where you know you need it. Then come back to Dörfli, and see how differently people will receive you, and how happy you can become again.’

He stood up and held out his hand. ‘I shall count on seeing you back among us next winter, old friend,’ he said. ‘I should be sorry if we had to put any pressure upon you. Give me your hand and promise you’ll come down and live among us again and be reconciled to God and to your neighbours.’

Uncle Alp shook hands with him, but said slowly, ‘I know you mean well, but I can’t do what you ask. That’s final. I shan’t send the child to school, nor come back to the village to live.’

‘May God help you, then,’ said the pastor and he went sadly out of the hut and down the mountain.

He left Uncle Alp out of humour. After dinner when Heidi said as usual, ‘Now it’s time to go to Grannie’s,’ he only replied, ‘Not today,’ and didn’t say another word that day. Next morning she asked again if they were going to Grannie’s, and he only said gruffly, ‘We’ll see.’ But before the dinner dishes had been cleared away they had another visitor. This time it was Detie. She was wearing a smart hat with a feather and a long dress which swept the ground as she walked — and the floor of the hut was not particularly good for it. Uncle Alp looked her up and down in silence. However Detie was all amiability, and started to talk at once.

‘How well Heidi looks,’ she exclaimed. ‘I hardly recognize her! You’ve certainly looked after her all right. Of course I always intended to come back for her because I know she must be in your way, but two years ago I just didn’t know what else to do with her. I’ve been on the lookout for a good home for her ever since, and that’s why I’m here now. I’ve heard of a wonderful chance for her. I’ve been into it all thoroughly and everything’s all right. It’s a chance in a million! The family I work for have got some very rich relations who live in one of the best houses in Frankfurt. They’ve a little girl who’s paralysed on one side and very delicate. She has to be in a wheel‐chair all the time and has lessons by herself with a tutor. That’s terribly dull for her and she longs for a little playmate. They’ve been talking about it at my place because of course my family, being relations, are very sorry for her and would like to help her. That’s how I heard what they wanted — a simple, unspoilt child to come and stay with her, they said, someone a bit out of the ordinary. I thought of Heidi at once, and I went and saw the lady who keeps house for them. I told her all about Heidi and she said she thought she would do. Isn’t that wonderful? Isn’t Heidi a lucky girl? And, if they like her, and anything were to happen to their daughter, which is quite likely, you know, it might well be that…’

‘Have you nearly finished?’ Uncle Alp interrupted her, having listened so far in silence.

Detie tossed her head in exasperation. ‘Anyone would think I’d been telling you something quite unimportant,’ she said. ‘There’s no one else in the whole district who wouldn’t be thankful to hear such a piece of news.’

‘Tell them then,’ he said drily, ‘it doesn’t interest me.’

Detie flew up like a rocket at these words. ‘If that’s what you think, let me tell you something more. The child will soon be eight and she doesn’t know a thing and you won’t let her learn. Oh yes, they told me in Dörfli about your not sending her to school or to church. But she’s my sister’s child and I’m still responsible for her welfare. And when the chance of such good fortune has come her way, only a person who doesn’t care what happens to anyone could want to keep her from it. But I shan’t let you, I warn you, and everyone in Dörfli’s on my side. Also I’d advise you to think twice before taking the matter to court. You might find things being remembered which you’d rather forget. There’s no knowing what may come to light in a court of law.’

‘That’s enough,’ thundered the old man, with his eyes ablaze. ‘Take her then and spoil her. But don’t ever bring her back to me. I don’t want to see her with a feather in her hat or hear her talk as you have done today.’ And he strode out of the hut.

‘You’ve made Grandfather angry,’ said Heidi, giving her aunt a far‐from‐friendly look.

‘He’ll get over it,’ said Detie. ‘Come on now, where are your clothes?’

‘I’m not coming,’ said Heidi.

‘Don’t talk nonsense,’ snapped her aunt, but continued in a coaxing tone, ‘you don’t know what a good time you’re going to have.’ She went to the cupboard and took out Heidi’s things and made them into a bundle. ‘Put your hat on. It’s pretty shabby, but it’ll have to do. Hurry now, we must be off.’

‘I’m not coming,’ Heidi repeated.

‘Don’t be stupid and obstinate like one of those old goats!’ snapped Detie again. ‘I suppose it’s from them you’ve learned such behaviour. Just you try to understand now. You saw how angry your grandfather was. You heard him say he didn’t want to see us again. He wants you to go with me, so you’d better obey if you don’t want to make him angrier still. Besides you can’t think how nice it is in Frankfurt and how much there is going on there. And if you don’t like it you can always come back here. Grandfather will be in a better mood by then.’

‘Could I come straight back again this evening?’ asked Heidi.

‘Well, no. We shall only get as far as Mayenfeld today. Tomorrow we’ll go on by train, but you can always get back the same way if you want to come home. It doesn’t take long.’ Detie caught hold of Heidi with one hand, and tucked the bundle of clothes under the other arm, and so they set off down the mountain.

It was still too early in the year for Peter to be taking the goats up to the pasture, so he was at school in Dörfli — or should have been. But every now and then he played truant, for he thought school a great waste of time and could see no point in trying to learn to read. He liked much better to wander off and gather wood, which was always needed. On this particular day he was just coming home with an enormous bundle of hazel twigs when he saw Heidi and Detie. ‘Where are you going?’ he asked, as they came up to him.

‘I’m going to Frankfurt on a visit with Auntie,’ said Heidi, ‘but I’ll come in and see Grannie first. She’ll be expecting me.’

‘No, you won’t, there’s no time for that,’ said Detie firmly, as Heidi tried to pull her hand away. ‘You can go and see her when you come back.’ And she kept tight hold of her and hurried on. She was afraid Heidi would change her mind again, if she went in there, and the old woman would certainly take her side. Peter rushed into the cottage and flung his sticks on the table as hard as he could. He just had to relieve his feelings somehow. Grannie jumped up in alarm and cried, ‘Whatever’s that noise?’ His mother, who had almost been knocked out of her chair, said in her usual patient voice, ‘What’s the matter, Peterkin? Why are you so wild?’

‘She’s taking Heidi away,’ he shouted.

‘Who is? Where are they going?’ asked Grannie anxiously, though she could guess the answer, for her daughter had seen Detie pass on her way up to Uncle Alp’s, and had told her about it then. Now she opened the window and called beseechingly, ‘Don’t take the child away from us, Detie!’ But they had hurried on, and though they heard her voice, they couldn’t make out the words, but Detie guessed what they were and pulled Heidi along as fast as she could go.

‘That was Grannie calling. I want to go and see her,’ said Heidi, trying again to free her hand.

‘We can’t stop for that, we’re late as it is,’ retorted Detie. ‘We don’t want to miss the train. Just you think of the wonderful time you’ll have in Frankfurt, and when you come back again — if indeed you ever want to, once you’re there — you can bring a present for Grannie.’

‘Can I really?’ Heidi asked, pleased with this idea. ‘What could I get for her?’

‘Something nice to eat perhaps. I expect she’d like the soft white rolls they have in town. She must find black bread almost too hard to eat now.’

‘Yes, she does. I’ve seen her give her piece to Peter because she couldn’t bite it. Let’s hurry, Detie. Can we get to Frankfurt today? Then I could come back at once with the rolls.’ She started to run so fast that Detie, hampered by the bundle of clothes under her arm, found it hard work to keep up with her. But she was glad to get along so quickly because they were coming to Dörfli where she knew people would start asking questions in a way which might upset the child again.

Sure enough as they went through the village, remarks came from all sides. ‘Is she running away from Uncle Alp?’ ‘Fancy, she’s still alive!’ ‘She looks well enough.’ To all questions Detie replied, ‘I can’t stop to talk. You can see we’re in a great hurry and we’ve a long way to go.’ She was thankful when they had left the village behind. Heidi didn’t say another word, but ran on as quickly as she could.

From that day Uncle Alp grew more silent and forbidding than ever. On the rare occasions when he passed through Dörfli with his basket of cheeses on his back and a heavy stick in his hand, mothers kept their children well out of the way, for he looked so wild. He never spoke to anyone, but went on down to the valley, where he sold his wares and bought bread and meat with the proceeds. People used to gather in little groups after he had passed, gossiping about his strange looks and behaviour. They all agreed it was a mercy that the child had escaped from him and reminded one another how fast she had been running down the mountain, as if she had been afraid he was coming after them to fetch her back.

But Peter’s Grannie always stood up for him. Whenever anyone came to bring her wool to spin or to fetch the finished work, she took care to mention how well he had looked after the child and how kind he had been about repairing their cottage, which might otherwise have fallen down by this time. The villagers found this hard to believe and decided that the old woman did not know what she was talking about, being blind and probably rather deaf as well.

Uncle Alp never went near her cottage again, but he had done his work well and it was now strong enough to stand up to the stormy weather. Without Heidi’s visits, Grannie found the days long and empty and she grew very sad and often used to say, ‘I should like to hear that dear child’s voice just once again before I die.’