Heidi

7 A Bad Day for Rottenmeier

Heidi awoke next morning and looked around her, quite forgetting all that had happened to her the day before. She couldn’t think where she was. She rubbed her eyes and looked again, but that made no difference. She was in a big room, in a high white bed. There were long white curtains in front of the windows and two big armchairs and a sofa, covered with some beautiful flowery material; there was a round table, and on a washstand in the corner stood a number of things that she had never seen before. All at once she remembered all that had happened to her overnight, particularly the instructions the tall lady had given her, so far, that is, as she had heard them.

She jumped out of bed and dressed quickly. Then she went first to one window, then to the other, and tried to pull back the curtains so that she could see what was outside. They were too heavy to pull so she crept behind them, but then the windows were so high that she could only just peep through them. And wherever she looked there was nothing to be seen but walls and windows. She began to feel rather frightened. At Grandfather’s she had always gone out of doors first thing in the morning to have a good look round, to see whether the sky was blue and the sun shining, and to say good morning to the trees and flowers. She ran from window to window frantically, trying to open them, like a wild bird in a cage, seeking a way through the bars to freedom. She felt sure that if she could see what was outside, she would find grass somewhere, green grass with the last snow just melting from it. But though she pushed and tugged and tried to put her little fingers under the frames, the windows stayed tight shut. After a while she gave up. ‘Perhaps if I went out of doors and round to the back of the house, I’d find some grass,’ she thought. ‘I know there were only stones in front.’

Just then there was a tap at the door and Tinette put her head round it, snapped out, ‘Breakfast’s ready,’ and shut it again quickly. Heidi hadn’t the least idea what she meant, but she had sounded so fierce that Heidi thought she was being told to stay where she was. She found a little stool under the table and sat down, to see what would happen next. It was not long before Miss Rottenmeier came bustling in, very annoyed, and scolding all the time. ‘What’s the matter with you, Adelheid? Don’t you even know what breakfast is? Come along at once.’ This at least Heidi could understand, and she followed her obediently into the dining‐room. Clara had been waiting there for some time but gave her a friendly greeting. She looked more cheerful than usual, for she had an idea she was going to have quite an interesting day.

Breakfast passed without further incident. Heidi ate her bread and butter quite nicely, and when the meal was over Clara was wheeled into the study and Heidi was sent with her and told to wait there until Mr Usher arrived. As soon as the two girls were alone, Heidi asked, ‘How can I look out of the window and see what’s down below?’

‘First the window has to be opened,’ said Clara, with a smile.

‘But they won’t open,’ Heidi answered.

‘Oh yes, they will, but you can’t do it yourself and nor can I. But Sebastian will open one for you if you ask him.’

Heidi was relieved to hear that. Then Clara began to ask about her life at home and Heidi was soon chattering away merrily about the mountains and the goats and all the other things she loved so well.

While they talked the tutor arrived, but instead of coming straight to the study as usual, he was waylaid by Miss Rottenmeier who took him into the dining‐room to explain the awkward situation in which she found herself.

‘Some time ago when Mr Sesemann was in Paris on business,’ she began, ‘I wrote to tell him that Clara ought to have a companion of her own age. She wanted it, and so did I, for I thought she might work harder at her lessons if she had some competition, and also the companionship would be pleasant and good for her. It would also spare me the necessity to keep her amused all the time, which, believe me, is not easy. Her father agreed, but insisted that the other child should be treated exactly the same as his own daughter. He wrote he would not have any child in his house put upon in any way. A most uncalled‐for remark, I must say. No one here would be likely to do any such thing!’

She then told him of Heidi’s arrival and how utterly unsuitable she found her, in every way. ‘Fancy, she doesn’t even know her alphabet, and has no idea how to behave in polite society. There seems to me only one way out of this dreadful situation, and that is for you to say that it is impossible to teach these two children together without holding back Clara quite disastrously. That would surely be reason enough to persuade Mr Sesemann to send this Swiss girl home again.’

Mr Usher was a cautious man, who always tried to look at both sides of any problem, so after several politely consoling remarks, he went on to say that perhaps things might not be as bad as she feared. If the child was backward in some ways, she might be ahead in others, and with regular lessons it might be possible to bring her on quite quickly. Miss Rottenmeier saw that she was not likely to get the support she wanted from this quarter, for obviously the tutor did not at all mind teaching Heidi her ABC from the very beginning. She showed him to the study door, therefore, and watched him go inside, but the thought of having to watch Heidi at her letters was more than she could bear. She walked about the dining‐room restlessly, wondering how the servants had better address Adelheid, for Mr Sesemann’s instruction that the child was to be treated just like his daughter could only refer to them, she thought. She was not left for long with her thoughts, however. Suddenly there was a tremendous clatter in the study, as though a lot of things had fallen down, and she heard someone call for Sebastian. She hurried into the room and found the floor strewn with books, writing paper, an inkwell, and the tablecloth, from under which a stream of ink was flowing. Heidi was nowhere to be seen.

‘This is a fine to‐do,’ said Miss Rottenmeier, wringing her hands. ‘Books, carpet, tablecloth, all covered with ink. Never have I seen such a mess. Of course it’s all that wretched child!’

Mr Usher stood looking about him in dismay. Even he could not find anything consoling to say about what had happened, though Clara seemed greatly amused by it.

‘Yes, Heidi did it — quite by accident,’ she said. ‘You must not punish her. She just rushed across the room and caught the tablecloth as she went by, and swept everything on to the floor with it. There were a lot of carriages going by in the street and I expect she wanted to look at them. I daresay she has never seen such a thing in her life before.’

‘What did I tell you, Mr Usher? The child is quite impossible. She doesn’t even understand that she ought to sit still and listen during a lesson. And where has she got to now? I suppose she’s run out of the front door. Whatever would Mr Sesemann say?’

She hurried off downstairs and found Heidi by the open door, looking up and down the street with a puzzled expression.

‘What are you thinking of? What do you mean by running away from your lessons like that?’ scolded Miss Rottenmeier.

‘I heard the fir trees rustling, but I can’t see them anywhere. I can’t even hear them now,’ replied Heidi.

It was the passing of light carriage wheels which she had mistaken for the wind blowing through the trees and which had sent her rushing joyfully downstairs to investigate, but the carriages had gone by before she got there.

‘Fir trees indeed! Do you think Frankfurt is in the middle of a wood? Just you come with me and see what a mess you’ve made,’ and Heidi was led back to the study, where she was most surprised to see what havoc she had wrought in her headlong flight from the room.

‘Don’t you ever do such a thing again,’ said Miss Rotten‐meier, pointing to the floor. ‘You must sit still during lessons and pay attention. If you don’t, I shall have to tie you to your chair. Is that understood?’

‘Yes. I will sit still,’ replied Heidi, accepting this as another rule that she must obey.

Sebastian and Tinette were sent for to clear up the mess and Mr Usher bowed and took his leave, saying there would be no more lessons. Certainly no one had been bored that day!

Clara always had to rest in the afternoons and Miss Rottenmeier told Heidi she could do as she pleased during that time. So after dinner, when the little invalid had settled down to sleep and the housekeeper had gone to her room, Heidi felt the moment had come to carry out something she had been planning. But she needed help, so she waited in the passage outside the dining‐room for Sebastian who presently came upstairs from the kitchen with a big tray of silver to be put away in the dining‐room cupboard. She stepped forward as he reached the last stair and said, ‘You, there,’ for she was uncertain how to address him after what Miss Rottenmeier had told her.

‘What do you want, Miss?’ he asked, rather crossly.

‘I only want to ask you something. It’s nothing naughty like this morning,’ she added, for he seemed in rather a bad mood and she thought that might be because of the ink on the carpet.

‘All right,’ he said more pleasantly, ‘what is it, Miss?’

‘My name’s not Miss, it’s Heidi.’

‘Miss Rottenmeier told us to call you that,’ he replied.

‘Oh, well, I suppose you must then,’ she said in a small voice. She was quite aware that that lady’s orders had to be obeyed. ‘And in that case, I have three names,’ she added with a sigh.

‘What is it you want to ask, Miss?’ asked Sebastian, going into the dining‐room with his tray. Heidi followed.

‘Can you open a window, Sebastian?’

‘Of course,’ he said and threw open the big casement. Heidi was too small to see out. Her chin only came up to the sill, but he brought her a high wooden stool and said, ‘If you climb on that, Miss, you’ll be able to see what’s down below.’ She got up on it, but after a quick glance, turned back with a very disappointed face.

‘There’s nothing but stony streets,’ she said sadly. ‘What should I see on the other side of the house, Sebastian?’

‘Nothing different.’

She could not understand what living in a town meant, nor that the train had carried her so far away from the mountains and pastures.

‘Then where can I go to see over the whole valley?’ ‘You’d have to go somewhere high up, a church tower like that one over there with the gold ball on top,’ he said, pointing. ‘You’d see ever so far from there.’

Heidi climbed down from the stool and ran downstairs and out of the front door. But she did not find the tower just across the road as it had seemed from the window. She ran right down the street, but couldn’t see it anywhere. She turned into a side street and walked on and on. She passed a lot of people, but they all seemed in such a hurry that she did not like to stop one of them to ask the way. Then she saw a boy standing at a corner, with a small hurdy-gurdy on his back and a tortoise in his arms. She went up to him and asked:

‘Where’s the tower with the gold ball on top?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Who can I ask then?’

‘Don’t know.’

‘Do you know any church with a high tower?’

‘Yes, one.’

‘Well, come and show me.’

‘What will you give me, if I do?’ asked the boy, holding out his hand.

She felt in her pocket and brought out a little card with a wreath of red roses painted on it which Clara had given her that morning. She looked at it for a moment, rather regretfully, but decided it was worth sacrificing to see the view over the valley. ‘There, would you like this?’ she asked, holding it out to him. He shook his head.

‘What do you want then?’ she asked, glad to put her treasure back in the pocket.

‘Money.’

‘I haven’t got any money,’ said Heidi, ‘but Clara has and I expect she’ll give me some for you. How much do you want?’

‘Two pennies.’

‘All right. Now let’s go.’

They went off together down a long street. ‘What’s that on your back?’ asked Heidi.

‘It’s an organ. When I turn the handle, music comes out. Here we are,’ he added, for they had reached an old church which had a high tower. The doors were fast shut, however.

‘How can I get in?’ asked Heidi.

‘Don’t know.’

Then she caught sight of a bell in the wall. ‘Do you think I can ring, like they do for Sebastian?’ she asked.

‘Don’t know,’ he said again.

She went up to the wall and pulled with all her might at the bell.

‘Wait for me, if I go up, because I don’t know the way home, and you will have to show me.’

‘What will you give me if I do?’

‘What do you want?’

‘Another twopence.’

Then they heard the old lock being turned from within, the door opened with a creak, and an old man peered out. He looked very annoyed when he saw the children. ‘What do you mean by bringing me all this way down?’ he demanded. ‘Can’t you read what it says under the bell: “For those who wish to climb the tower”?’

The boy jerked his thumb at Heidi, but said nothing.

‘I do want to climb the tower,’ she said.

‘You? What for? Did someone send you?’ asked the old keeper.

‘No. I want to see what I can see from the top.’ ‘Be off with you,’ he told her, ‘and don’t try your tricks on me again or it’ll be the worse for you,’ and he began to shut the door. But Heidi caught hold of his coat.

‘Let me go up just this once,’ she pleaded.

He looked down at her, and her eagerness softened him, so that he took her by the hand and said grumblingly, ‘Oh well, if it means so much to you, come along.’

The boy made no move to go too, but sat down on the stone doorstep, waiting for her as she had asked him to. The door shut, and she and the old man climbed up and up, the stairs getting narrower, the higher they went. At last they reached the top and the keeper held her up to an open window. ‘Now you have a good look round,’ he said. But still there was nothing to be seen but a sea of roofs, chimneys, and towers, and after a minute she turned back to him and said, looking very crestfallen, ‘It isn’t a bit what I expected.’

‘I thought as much! What does a little thing like you know about views! Come along now and don’t ring any more tower bells.’

He set her on the ground and she followed him down. When they came to the landing at the bottom of the narrowest flight of stairs she noticed a door on the left, which led to the keeper’s room. There, in a corner beside it, a fat grey cat sat beside a big basket, and spat as Heidi approached, to warn her that this was the home of her family of kittens and that she would not allow anyone to meddle with them. Heidi stood and stared, for she had never seen such a huge cat before. There were such quantities of mice in the tower that it could catch half a dozen a day without any difficulty, and had grown sleek and fat on them.

‘Come and look at the kittens,’ said the keeper. ‘The mother won’t touch you if I’m with you.’ Heidi went up to the basket.

‘Oh what darlings! Aren’t they sweet?’ she exclaimed with delight, as she watched seven or eight little kittens tumbling and scrambling over one another.

‘Would you like one?’ asked the keeper, smiling at her pleasure.

‘To keep for myself?’ gasped Heidi, hardly able to believe her ears.

‘Yes, of course. You can have more than one if you like, or indeed all of them if you’ve somewhere to keep them,’ said the old man, welcoming the opportunity of getting rid of them. Heidi was thrilled. There was plenty of room in the big house and she was sure Clara would love to have them.

‘How can I carry them?’ she asked, and stooped to pick one up, but the mother cat flew at her so fiercely that she drew back in alarm.

‘I’ll bring them to you, if you’ll tell me where,’ said the old man as he stroked the cat soothingly. It had lived alone with him in the tower for many years and they were great friends.

‘To Mr Sesemann’s house,’ Heidi told him, ‘where there’s a gold dog’s head with a ring in its mouth on the front door.’

He recognized the house immediately from that description for he had lived in the one spot so long that he knew all the houses round about, and besides, Sebastian was a friend of his.

‘I know the house,’ he said, ‘but for whom shall I ask? You don’t belong to that family I’m sure.’

‘No, I don’t, but I know Clara will be pleased to have the kittens.’

The keeper was ready to go down the rest of the way but Heidi couldn’t tear herself away. ‘Can’t I take just two kittens with me now,’ she begged, ‘one for me and one for Clara?’

‘Wait a minute then,’ he said, and he picked up the mother cat and carried her into his room where he put her down in front of her food bowl. Then he shut the door and came back to the basket. ‘Now you can take them,’ he said.

Heidi’s eyes were shining. She picked out a white kitten, and a tabby, and put one in each pocket. Then they went on down together and found the boy still sitting on the step, waiting for her.

‘Now, which is the way back to Mr Sesemann’s house?’ Heidi asked him as soon as the keeper had shut the big door behind her.

‘Don’t know.’

Heidi described the house as well as she could, but the boy only shook his head.

‘Well, opposite us, there’s a grey house with a roof like this,’ she said, drawing gables in the air with one finger. He thought he recognized that, and ran off at once, with Heidi on his heels. Soon they reached the familiar door with the dog’s head knocker. Heidi pulled the bell and almost at once Sebastian answered it. ‘Come in quickly,’ he cried as soon as he saw her, and he slammed the door without even noticing the boy, who was left outside feeling quite bewildered.

‘Hurry, Miss,’ urged Sebastian. ‘They’re already at table and Miss Rottenmeier looks fit to explode. Whatever made you run away like that?’

She went into the dining‐room where there was an awful silence. Miss Rottenmeier did not look up as Sebastian pushed Heidi’s chair up to the table, and even Clara did not speak. Then, looking very cross and speaking very severely, Miss Rottenmeier said:

‘I will speak to you later, Adelheid. Now I will only say that it was extremely naughty of you to leave the house without asking permission or saying a word to anyone, and then to go roaming about until this late hour. I’ve never heard of such a thing.’

‘Miaou,’ came the reply, which seemed to be Heidi’s, and that was the last straw.

‘How dare you mock me in such a fashion, and after such disgraceful behaviour,’ said Miss Rottenmeier, her temper rising.

‘I didn’t,’ began Heidi, but got no further before there was another ‘Miaou, Miaou!’ Sebastian almost threw what he was holding on to the table, and rushed from the room.

‘That will do,’ Miss Rottenmeier tried to speak firmly, but she was almost choking with anger and could only whisper. ‘Leave the room.’

Heidi got up, feeling quite frightened. She tried again to explain, but the kittens mewed again, ‘Miaou, miaou, miaou.’

‘Heidi, why do you keep on mewing like that?’ asked Clara. ‘Can’t you see how angry you’re making Miss Rottenmeier?’

‘But it’s not me, it’s the kittens,’ Heidi managed to get out at last.

‘What! Kittens! Here?’ screamed Miss Rottenmeier. ‘Sebastian! Tinette! Come and look for the horrible creatures and get rid of them.’ And she rushed off into the study and bolted the door, for she disliked cats so much, she was actually terrified of them!

Sebastian was laughing so much, he had to wait outside the door to compose himself before he could come in. He had seen one of the kittens peeping out of Heidi’s pocket as he was handing a plate, and knew there was bound to be trouble. When it started, he could not control his laughter and that was why he had rushed away. When he was in a fit state to come in again, everything had quietened down and Clara had the kittens on her lap. Heidi was kneeling beside her and they were both admiring the pretty little things.

‘Sebastian, you must help us,’ said Clara. ‘Find a corner for the kittens where Miss Rottenmeier won’t see them. She’s scared of them and will certainly get rid of them if she finds them, but we want to have them to play with when we’re alone. Where can we put them?’

‘I’ll see to that for you, Miss Clara,’ he said obligingly. ‘I’ll make a cosy bed for them in a basket and put it where the old lady is not likely to look. You can rely on me.’ He went off to do as he had promised, chuckling to himself. He could foresee more excitements in the near future and always rather enjoyed watching Miss Rottenmeier in a rage. It was some time before that lady dared to open the study door. Then she called through a mere crack, ‘Are those dreadful creatures out of the way?’

‘Yes, Ma’am,’ replied Sebastian, who was hanging about in the dining‐room, expecting that question. Then at once he snatched up the kittens and took them away.

The scolding which Miss Rottenmeier had intended to give Heidi had to be put off until next day, for she felt quite worn out with all she had been through of anxiety and annoyance, anger and fright. Consequently she withdrew very soon to her room, and Clara and Heidi went happily to bed, knowing that the kittens were safe.