Johanna Spyri - Heidi

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!’