WHEN Heidi opened her eyes on her first morning in Frankfurt she could not think where she was. Then she rubbed them and looked about her. She was sitting up in a high white bed, in a large, wide room with very long white curtains; near the window stood two chairs covered with large flowered material and then came a sofa with the same flowers, in front of which was a round table; in the corner was a washstand, with things upon it that Heidi had never seen in her life before. But now all at once she remembered that she was in Frankfurt. She jumped out of bed and dressed herself; then she ran first to one window and then another; she wanted to see the sky and country outside; she felt like a bird in a cage behind those great curtains. But they were too heavy for her to put aside, so she crept underneath them to get to the window. But she could see nothing but walls and windows. She felt quite frightened and ran backwards and forwards, trying to open first one and then the other of the windows, for she felt that somewhere outside there must be the green grass, and the last unmelted snows on the mountain slopes. But the windows remained immovable, try what Heidi would to open them. Suddenly there was a knock on the door, and immediately after Tinette put her head inside and said, "Breakfast is ready." Heidi had no idea what an invitation so worded meant, and Tinette's face did not encourage any questioning on Heidi's part. Heidi was sharp enough to read its expression and acted accordingly. So she drew a little stool out from under the table, put it in the corner and sat down upon it, and there silently awaited what would happen next. Shortly after, Miss Rottermeyer appeared. She seemed very much put out, and called to Heidi, "What is the matter with you, Adelaide? Don't you understand what breakfast is? Come along at once!"
Heidi had no difficulty in understanding now and followed at once. Clara gave her a kindly greeting, her face looking considerably more cheerful than usual, for she looked forward to all kinds of new things happening again that day. Breakfast passed off quietly; Heidi ate her bread and butter in a perfectly correct manner, and when the meal was over and Clara wheeled back into the study, Miss Rottermeyer told her to follow and remain with Clara until the tutor should arrive and lessons begin.
As soon as the children were alone again, Heidi asked, "How can one see out from here, and look right down on to the ground?"
"You must open the window and look out," replied Clara amused.
"But the windows won't open," responded Heidi sadly.
"Yes, they will," Clara assured her. "You cannot open them, nor I either, but when you see Sebastian you can ask him to open one."
It was a great relief to Heidi to know that the windows could be opened and that one could look out. Clara now began to ask her questions about her home, and Heidi was delighted to tell her all about the mountain and the goats, and the flowery meadows.
Meanwhile her tutor had arrived; Miss Rottermeyer, however, did not bring him straight into the study but drew him first aside into the dining-room, where she poured forth her troubles. It appeared that she had written some time back to Mr. Sesemann to tell him that his daughter very much desired to have a companion. Miss Rottermeyer had wished for this arrangement on her own behalf, as it would relieve her from having always to entertain the sick girl. The father had answered that he was quite willing to let his daughter have a companion, provided she was treated in every way like his own child. But now she went on to explain how dreadfully she had been taken in about the child, and related all the unimaginable things of which she had already been guilty, so that not only would he have to begin with teaching her the A B C, but would have to start with the most rudimentary instruction as regarded everything to do with daily life. She could see only one way out of this disastrous state of affairs, and that was for the tutor to declare that it was impossible for the two to learn together without detriment to Clara, who was so far ahead of the other; that would be a good excuse for getting rid of the child. But she dared not send her home without Mr. Sesemann's order, since he was aware that by this time the companion had arrived. The tutor was a cautious man and said that if the little girl was backward in some things she was probably advanced in others, and a little regular teaching would soon set the balance right. When Miss Rottermeyer saw that he was not ready to support her, and evidently quite ready to undertake teaching the alphabet, she opened the study door, which she quickly shut again as soon as he had gone through remaining on the other side herself, for she had a perfect horror of the A B C. She walked up and down the dining-room, thinking over in her own mind how the servants were to be told to address Adelaide. The father had written that she was to be treated exactly like his own daughter, and this would especially refer, she imagined, to the servants. She was not allowed, however, a very long interval of time for consideration, for suddenly the sound of a frightful crash was heard in the study, followed by frantic cries for Sebastian. She rushed into the room. There on the floor lay in a confused heap, books, exercise-books and inkstand, with the table-cloth on the top, while from beneath them a dark stream of ink was flowing all across the floor. Heidi had disappeared.
"Here's a state of things!" exclaimed Miss Rottermeyer. "Table-cloth, books, work-basket, everything lying in the ink! It was that unfortunate child, I suppose!"
"Yes, Heidi did it," explained Clara, "but quite by accident; she must on no account be punished; she jumped up in such violent haste to get away that she dragged the table-cloth along with her, and so everything went over. There were a number of vehicles passing, that is why she rushed off like that; perhaps she has never seen a carriage."
"Is it not as I said? She has not the smallest notion about anything! But where is the child who has caused all this trouble? Surely she has not run away! What would Mr. Sesemann say to me?" She ran out of the room and down the stairs. There, at the bottom, standing in the open doorway, was Heidi, looking in amazement up and down the street.
"What are you doing? What are you thinking of to run away like that?" called Miss Rottermeyer.
"I heard the sound of the fir trees, but I cannot see where they are, and now I cannot hear them any more," answered Heidi, looking disappointedly in the direction whence the noise of the passing carriages had reached her, and which to Heidi had seemed like the blowing of the south wind in the trees, so that in great joy of heart she had rushed out to look at them.
"Fir trees! do you suppose we are in the woods? What ridiculous ideas are these? Come upstairs and see the mischief you have done!"
Heidi followed Miss Rottermeyer upstairs; she was quite astonished to see the disaster she had caused, for in her joy and haste to get to the fir trees she had been unaware of having dragged everything after her.
"I excuse you doing this as it is the first time, but do not let me hear of you doing it a second time," said Miss Rottermeyer pointing to the floor. "During your lesson time you are to sit still and attend. If you cannot do this I shall have to tie you to your chair. Do you understand?"
"Yes," replied Heidi, "but I will certainly not move again," for now she understood that it was a rule to sit still while she was being taught.
When Clara had been placed on her couch after dinner, and the housekeeper had retired to her room, Heidi waited for Sebastian who was coming up from the kitchen with a tray of silver tea-things, which he had to put away in the dining-room cupboard. As he reached the top stair Heidi went up to him and addressed him in the formal manner she had been ordered to use by Miss Rottermeyer.
Sebastian looked surprised and said somewhat curtly, "What is it you want, miss?"
"How can a window be opened?"
"Why, like that!" and Sebastian flung up one of the large windows.
Heidi ran to it, but she was not tall enough to see out, for her head only reached the sill.
"There, now miss can look out and see what is going on below," said Sebastian as he brought her a high wooden stool to stand on.
Heidi climbed up, and at last, as she thought, was going to see what she had been longing for. But she drew back her head with a look of great disappointment on her face.
"WHY, THERE IS NOTHING OUTSIDE BUT THE STONY STREETS"
"Why, there is nothing outside but the stony streets," she said mournfully; "but if I went right round to the other side of the house what should I see there, Sebastian?"
"Nothing but what you see here," he told her.
"Then where can I go to see right away over the whole valley?"
"You would have to climb to the top of a high tower, a church tower, like that one over there with the gold ball above it."
Heidi got down quickly from her stool, ran to the door, down the steps and out into the street. She passed a great many people, but they all seemed in such a hurry that Heidi thought they had not time to tell her which way to go. Then suddenly at one of the street corners she saw a boy carrying a hand-organ on his back and a funny-looking animal on his arm. Heidi ran up to him and said, "Where is the tower with the gold ball on the top?"
"I don't know," was the answer.
"Do you know any other church with a high tower?"
"Yes, I know one."
"Come then and show it me."
"Show me first what you will give me," and the boy held out his hand as he spoke. Heidi searched about in her pocket and presently drew out a card on which was painted a garland of beautiful red roses; she looked at it first for a moment or two, for she felt rather sorry to part with it; Clara had only that morning made her a present of it—but then, to look down into the valley and see all the lovely green slopes! "There," said Heidi holding out the card, "would you like to have that?"
The boy drew back his hand and shook his head.
"What would you like then?" asked Heidi, not sorry to put the card back in her pocket.
"Money."
"I have none, but Clara has; I am sure she will give me some; how much do you want?"
"Five cents."
"Come along then."
They started off together along the street, and on the way Heidi asked her companion what he was carrying on his back; it was a hand-organ, he told her, which played beautiful music when he turned the handle. All at once they found themselves in front of an old church with a high tower; the boy said, "There it is."
Heidi caught sight of a bell in the wall which she now pulled with all her might. "If I go up to the tower you must wait here, for I do not know the way back, and you will have to show me."
"What will you give me then for that?"
"Another five cents."
They heard the key turning inside, and then some one pulled open the heavy, creaking door; an old man came out and at first looked with surprise and then in anger at the children, as he began scolding them: "What do you mean by ringing me down like this? Can't you read what is written over the bell, 'For those who wish to go up the tower'?"
"But I do want to go up the tower," said Heidi.
"What do you want up there?" said the old man. "Has somebody sent you?"
"No," replied Heidi, "I only wanted to go up and look down on the valley."
"Get along home with you and don't try this trick again, or you may not come off so easily a second time," and with that he turned and was about to shut the door. But Heidi took hold of his coat and said beseechingly, "Let me go up, just once."
He looked round, and his mood changed as he saw her pleading eyes; he took hold of her hand and said kindly, "Well, if you really wish it so much, I will take you."
The boy sat down on the church steps to show that he was content to wait where he was.
When they had climbed to the top of the tower, the old man lifted Heidi up that she might look out of the open window.
She saw beneath her a sea of roofs, towers, and chimney-pots; she quickly drew back her head and said in a sad, disappointed voice, "It is not at all what I thought."
"You see now, a child like you does not understand anything about a view! Come along down and don't go ringing at my bell again!"
On the way down they passed the tower-keeper's room. At the far end of this was a large basket, in front of which sat a big grey cat.
Heidi went up to the basket and broke out into expressions of delight.
"Oh, the sweet little things! the darling kittens," she kept on saying, as she jumped from side to side of the basket so as not to lose any of the droll gambols of the seven or eight little kittens that were scrambling and rolling and falling over one another.
"Would you like to have one?" said the old man, who enjoyed watching the child's pleasure.
"For myself, to keep?" said Heidi excitedly, who could hardly believe such happiness was to be hers.
"Yes, of course, more than one if you like—in short, you can take away the whole lot if you have room for them," for the old man was only too glad to think he could get rid of his kittens without more trouble.
"But how can I take them with me?" asked Heidi, and was going quickly to see how many she could carry away in her hands, when the old cat sprang at her so fiercely that she shrank back in fear.
"I will take them for you, if you tell me where," said the old man, stroking the cat to quiet her.
"To Mr. Sesemann's, the big house where there is a gold dog's head on the door, with a ring in its mouth," explained Heidi.
The old man had had charge of the tower for many a long year and knew every house far and near.
"I know the house," he said, "but when shall I bring them, and who shall I ask for—you are not one of the family, I am sure."
"No, but Clara will be so delighted when I take her the kittens."
"If I could just take one or two away with me! one for myself and one for Clara, may I?"
"Well, wait a moment," said the man, and he drew the cat cautiously away into his room, and leaving her by a bowl of milk came out again and shut the door. "Now take two of them."
Heidi's eyes shone with delight. She picked up a white kitten and another striped white and yellow, and put one in the right, the other in the left pocket. Then she went downstairs. The boy was still sitting outside on the steps.
In a very short time they had reached the door with the large dog's head for a knocker. Heidi rang the bell. Sebastian opened it quickly, and when he saw it was Heidi, "Make haste! make haste," he cried in a hurried voice.
Heidi sprang hastily in and Sebastian shut the door after her, leaving the boy, whom he had not noticed, standing in wonder on the steps.
"Make haste, little miss," said Sebastian again; "go straight into the dining-room, they are already at table; Miss Rottermeyer looks like a loaded cannon. What could make the little miss run off like that?"
Heidi walked into the room. The housekeeper did not look up, Clara did not speak; there was an uncomfortable silence. Sebastian pushed her chair up for her, and when she was seated Miss Rottermeyer said sternly: "Adelaide, you have behaved in a most unmannerly way by running out of the house as you did, without asking permission, without any one knowing a word about it; and then to go wandering about till this hour; I never heard of such behavior before."
"Miau!" came the answer back.
This was too much for the lady's temper; with raised voice she exclaimed, "You dare, Adelaide, after your bad behavior, to answer me as if it were a joke?"
"I did not—" began Heidi—"Miau! miau!"
"That will do," Miss Rottermeyer tried to say, but her voice was almost stifled with anger. "Get up and leave the room."
Heidi stood up frightened, and again made an attempt to explain. "I really did not—" "Miau! miau! miau!"
"But, Heidi," now put in Clara, "when you see that it makes Miss Rottermeyer angry, why do you keep on saying miau?"
"It isn't I, it's the kittens," Heidi was at last given time to say.
"How! what! kittens!" shrieked Miss Rottermeyer. "Sebastian! Tinette! Find the horrid little things! take them away!" And she rose and fled into the study and locked the door.
When Sebastian entered the dining-room, Clara had the kittens on her lap, and Heidi was kneeling beside her, both laughing and playing with the tiny, graceful little animals.
"Sebastian," exclaimed Clara as he came in, "you must help us; you must find a bed for the kittens where Miss Rottermeyer will not spy them out, for she is so afraid of them that she will send them away at once; but we want to keep them, and have them out whenever we are alone. Where can you put them?"
"I will see to that," answered Sebastian willingly. "I will make a bed in a basket and put it in some place where the lady is not likely to go; you leave it to me." He set about the work at once, sniggling to himself the while, for he guessed there would be a further rumpus about this some day, and Sebastian was not without a certain pleasure in the thought of Miss Rottermeyer being a little disturbed.
After some time had elapsed, Miss Rottermeyer opened the door a crack and called through, "Have you taken those dreadful little animals away, Sebastian?"
He assured her twice that he had done so; and quickly and quietly catching up the kittens from Clara's lap, disappeared with them.
Miss Rottermeyer retired without speaking, Clara and Heidi following, happy in their minds at knowing that the kittens were lying in a comfortable bed.