Johanna Spyri - Heidi

‘Ah, that’s right,’ she said kindly, ‘you’re a good boy to tell me. Always confess right away when you’ve done anything wrong, and it will save a lot of trouble. Now, what would you like for your present?’

Peter felt quite giddy at the thought that he could choose for himself anything in the whole world. He thought of the fair that came to Mayenfeld once a year, and of all the wonderful things he had seen on the stalls there, without a hope in the world of ever being able to buy any of them — nice red whistles, for instance. He could use one of them for calling the goats together. And those strong clasp‐knives which made short work of cutting hazel twigs. He thought and thought — what should he choose? Then a grand idea came to him, and he spoke up clearly.

‘A penny,’ he said. Then he would have all the time between now and the next fair to decide what to buy with it.

Mrs Sesemann could not help laughing. ‘What a modest request!’ she cried, opening her purse and bringing out some coins. ‘Come over here and we’ll settle our account at once. Look, here are as many pennies as there are weeks in the year, and every Sunday you can take one of them to spend.’

Peter looked at her open‐eyed. ‘Every Sunday for ever?’ he asked.

She laughed again, and the two men came over to hear what was going on.

‘Yes, for ever,’ she promised, ‘I’ll put it down in my will: To Peter, the goatherd, a penny a week for life ,’ and she turned to her son and added, ‘Do you hear that? You must put it in your will too. A penny a week for Peter as long as he lives.’

Mr Sesemann agreed with a nod, and joined in the laughter.

Peter looked again and again at the coins in his hand, to be sure he was not dreaming. Then he thanked her and ran off up the mountain, in the highest spirits, leaping and jumping for joy. His troubles were over, and he was promised a penny a week for all the rest of his life!

Later, when they were all sitting outside the hut after a pleasant meal, Clara took her father’s hand and said, ‘Oh, Papa, if you only knew all that Uncle Alp has done for me! I shall never forget it. And I keep thinking, what could I ever do for him that would give him even half as much pleasure as he has given me?’

‘I should like to know that too,’ her father replied, turning to their host, who was engaged in lively conversation with Grandmamma. He put out his hand and grasped Uncle Alp’s large rough one warmly. ‘Dear friend,’ he said, ‘let us have a quiet word together. You will know what I mean when I say that for years I have never known real happiness. What were all my money and success worth, if they could not make my poor little daughter well? Now, with God’s help, you have given us both something to live for. That can never be repaid, but tell me if there is any way in which I may show my gratitude. I will do anything that is in my power: only tell me what it shall be.’

Uncle Alp listened quietly, smiling at the happiness he saw in the other’s face, then with simple dignity he replied, ‘I have a share too in your joy at your daughter’s recovery. In that lies my reward. Thank you all the same for what you have said, but I want nothing. So long as I live there will be enough for me and for Heidi. There is only one thing I wish for. If you could give me that, I should have no cares left.’

‘Tell me then what that wish is,’ said Mr Sesemann.

‘I am old,’ Uncle Alp began. ‘I cannot expect to live much longer, and I shall have nothing to leave the child when I die. She has no one but me in the wide world except that one who has taken so little care of her. If you could promise me that Heidi need never have to go and earn her living among strangers — that would richly reward me for what I have been able to do for you and your daughter.’

‘That is something you need not even ask,’ Mr Sesemann returned quickly. ‘Heidi is already like one of my family. Ask my mother, or Clara: they will bear me out in that. We shall never allow her to be left to strangers. I promise you that. Here’s my hand on it. I will make provision for her during my life, and afterwards.

‘While she was with us, we saw how hard it was for her to live away from her own home, though she made good friends among us, as you know, and one of them is winding up his affairs in Frankfurt at this very moment. I mean our dear Dr Classen, of course. He intends to retire very soon, and to settle somewhere near you. He was so happy with you and Heidi last year. So, you see, in future, with you and him, Heidi will have two good friends at hand, and I hope you will both live for many years yet.’

‘Amen to that,’ cried Mrs Sesemann, shaking Uncle Alp warmly by the hand. Then she put her arm round Heidi and kissed her. ‘And now, my dear, what about you? Have you a wish to be granted?’ she asked.

‘Yes, I have,’ Heidi replied readily, looking up into her face.

‘I am glad. Tell me what it is.’

‘The bed I had in Frankfurt, with its three pillows and the warm quilt — I should like to have it for Grannie, so that she won’t have to lie with her head so low that she can hardly breathe, and she wouldn’t have to wear her beautiful shawl in bed, either, to keep her from freezing.’

In her eagerness, Heidi hardly paused for breath. ‘What a good child you are!’ said Mrs Sesemann. ‘It’s easy, in our own happiness, to forget those who are not so well off. It shall be done. I will telegraph to Frankfurt at once and Rottenmeier shall pack up the bed and send it off. It ought to be here then in a day or two, and I hope Grannie will find it very comfortable.’

Heidi skipped with delight, and cried:

‘I must just run down and tell her. I haven’t seen her for so long, she’ll be wondering what’s happened to me.’

‘Heidi,’ said her grandfather, gently reproving, ‘what are you thinking of? You can’t run off like that while we have company.’ But Mrs Sesemann stopped him.

‘The child’s right,’ she said. ‘Poor Grannie’s been neglected lately because of us. Let us all go down together to see her. I can wait for my horse there, and I’ll send off the telegram from Dörfli. What do you say, my son?’

Mr Sesemann had not yet had a chance to speak of his own plans, so he began now to explain them. He had thought of spending a little time in Switzerland with his mother, taking Clara with them for at least part of the time, if she was well enough. Now it looked as though he might have his daughter’s company for the whole trip, and in that case, it would be the greatest pity to miss any of these last lovely days of summer. He thought therefore of spending the night in Dörfli, and fetching Clara next day. They would go then to Ragaz where they would meet Grandmamma, and from there start their little holiday. At first Clara was a little upset at the prospect of leaving the mountain so soon, but she had so much that was new to look forward to, that she could not feel unhappy for long.

Taking Heidi’s hand, Mrs Sesemann was preparing to lead the way down to the goatherd’s cottage, when a thought struck her, and she turned back. ‘But how will Clara manage?’ she asked. Uncle Alp smiled and picked the child up in his arms as he had so often done before, and like that they set off. On the way, Heidi told Mrs Sesemann a great deal about Grannie, how much she felt the cold in winter and that she had not always enough to eat, and Mrs Sesemann listened thoughtfully to all she had to say.

Bridget was hanging Peter’s spare shirt out to dry as they approached the cottage, and when she saw them, she hurried indoors to tell her mother. ‘They’re all coming down the mountain,’ she announced. ‘Going home evidently, and Uncle Alp is carrying the invalid girl.’