Johanna Spyri: Heidi

Heidi came out almost at once, followed by her grandfather carrying Clara. The shed door was wide open and she could see that the place was empty. She ran round to the back of the hut, and came back looking puzzled.

‘What’s the matter, Heidi?’ asked her grandfather. ‘What have you done with the chair?’

‘You said it was in front of the door, but I can’t see it anywhere,’ she replied.

A strong gust of wind just at that moment sent the shed door slamming back against the wall.

‘Perhaps the wind has blown it away,’ Heidi cried, looking anxiously about. ‘Oh dear, if it has rolled right down to Dörfli, we shan’t get it back in time to go.’

‘If it has fallen as far as that, we shan’t get it back at all,’ said her grandfather. ‘It will be broken in a hundred pieces.’ He went to look over the edge, and murmured to himself, ‘That’s curious.’ He saw the chair, and realized that to fall where it had, it would have had to turn a corner on its way from the shed!

‘Oh, how dreadful!’ Clara wailed. She was really upset. ‘Now we shan’t be able to go today — I shan’t ever be able to go — because I shan’t be able to stay here without my chair. Oh, what shall I do?’

‘We’ll go up to the pasture today anyway, as we planned,’ Grandfather told her kindly. ‘After that, we’ll see.’

That satisfied them both. He went indoors and returned with an armful of rugs, which he spread out in the sunniest spot he could find, then he settled Clara on them. He fetched their milk, and brought out Daisy and Dusky from their stall.

‘I wonder where that boy’s got to,’ he remarked thoughtfully. ‘He’s very late.’ Peter had not given his usual whistle.

When the girls had finished their breakfast, he picked Clara up and the rugs and said, ‘Now we can go, and we’ll take the goats with us.’

Heidi went happily ahead, with a hand on each animal’s neck. They were so pleased to be with her again that they pressed against her on either side so that they almost crushed her between them. When they reached the pasture, they saw the other goats grazing peacefully in little groups and Peter stretched full length on the ground.

‘Hi, I’ll teach you to pass us by, you lazy rascal,’ cried Grandfather. ‘What do you mean by it?’

Peter shot up at the sound of that voice. ‘No one was up,’ he replied.

‘Did you see anything of Clara’s chair?’ asked Uncle Alp.

‘What chair?’ Peter mumbled sourly.

Uncle said no more. He found a sunny place for Clara and settled her there.

‘How’s that?’ he asked, and she replied, ‘As comfortable as if I was in my chair, thank you. And oh, isn’t it lovely here?’

‘Now enjoy yourselves,’ said Uncle Alp, as he prepared to leave them. ‘Your dinner is in the bag over there in the shade. Get Peter to give you as much milk as you want, but see he takes it from Daisy. I’ll come back for you in the evening, but I must go down now to see what’s become of the chair.’

There was not one cloud in the deep blue sky. The great snowfield sparkled, and the massive bare peaks stood out clearly against the unbroken blue. The two girls sat side by side, as happy and contented as could be. From time to time one of the goats came and lay down beside them. Snowflake came most often, and nestled against Heidi until one of the others came and drove her away. So Clara learnt to recognize each one. Some came right up to her and rubbed against her shoulders, a sure sign that they trusted her. Presently Heidi thought of the meadow where all the flowers grew, and wished she could go and see if they were as beautiful as last year, but Clara could not go till Grandfather returned in the evening, and by then the flowers would probably have closed their petals for the night. She wanted to go so badly that after a little she said hesitantly:

‘Would you mind if I left you alone for a few minutes, Clara? I want to go and look at the flowers. Wait a minute, though,’ she went on, as an idea came to her. She picked some handfuls of grass and spread it on Clara’s lap. Then she brought Snowflake over and gave her a little push to make her lie down. ‘There, you won’t be alone, now,’ she said.

‘Go and look at the flowers for as long as you like,’ said Clara. ‘I shall be quite happy here with Snowflake. It’ll be fun to feed her.’ So Heidi ran off, and Clara gave the grass to the little goat blade by blade. Snowflake took it gently from her hand, already quite at home with this new friend. To Clara this strange new experience was very exciting. To be here, all by herself, and out of doors in such a beautiful place, with this little goat eating so trustfully out of her hand — was all so delightful. She had never expected to know such happiness, and it gave her a new idea of what it must mean to be like other girls, well and free, to run about and to help people, instead of always having to be the one who sat still and was waited on. The thought seemed to add an extra radiance to the scene, and a deeper glow to her own happiness. She put an arm round Snowflake’s neck. ‘I should like to stay here for ever and ever,’ she murmured aloud.

Heidi meanwhile had reached the flowery meadow, and was gazing ecstatically at the yellow carpet of rock‐roses, and the blue gleam of harebells, the sweet‐scented primulas, and dozens of other flowers. Suddenly she raced back to Clara, arriving beside her quite breathless.

‘Oh, you simply must come too,’ she exclaimed. ‘The flowers are so beautiful, and they might not be the same later on. Don’t you think I could carry you?’

Clara shook her head. ‘You couldn’t possibly, Heidi. You’re smaller than I am. Oh, if only I could walk!’

Heidi looked round for inspiration. Peter was sitting higher up the slope, staring down at them, as he had been doing for an hour or more, as though unable to understand how it had happened. He had destroyed the hateful chair, so that Clara could not be moved about, and yet here she was, where he least wanted to see her and, of course, Heidi was with her. He could hardly believe his eyes.

‘Come down here, Peter,’ called Heidi.

‘Shan’t,’ he replied.

‘Oh, you must. I want you. Quick!’

‘Shan’t.’

Heidi got angry and ran a few steps towards him, her eyes flashing. ‘If you don’t come at once,’ she stormed at him, ‘I’ll do something you won’t like. I mean it!’

Her words disturbed him. He had done a dreadful thing, but up till now he had not cared because he thought no one knew about it. But Heidi sounded as though she might and, if she did, she would be sure to tell her grandfather, and Peter did not like that prospect at all. Reluctantly he got up and said, ‘All right, I’ll come, if you don’t do what you said.’ He sounded so anxious that Heidi forgave him.

‘Of course I won’t,’ she cried. ‘Come on. There’s nothing to be afraid of.’

When they got back to Clara, she told Peter to prop her at one side, while she took the other, and together they helped her to her feet. So far, so good, but Clara could not keep upright without support.

‘Put your arm round my neck,’ Heidi told her, ‘and Peter, give her your arm, and then we’ll be able to help her along.’ Peter had never done anything like this before, and though Clara took hold of his arm, he kept it stiffly down at his side which did not help her much.

‘No, not like that, Peter,’ said Heidi. ‘Make a crook with your arm, so that Clara can lean on it. And for goodness’ sake don’t let it give way. That’s better. Now we shall manage it.’