THERE was much expectation and preparation about the house on the following evening, for Grandmother Sesemann was coming. Tinette had a new white cap on her head, and Sebastian collected all the footstools he could find and placed them in convenient spots, so that the lady might find one ready to her feet whenever she chose to sit.
At last the carriage came driving up to the door, and Tinette and Sebastian ran down the steps, followed by the housekeeper, who advanced to greet the guest. Heidi had been sent up to her room and ordered to remain there until called down, as the grandmother would certainly like to see Clara alone first. Heidi sat herself down in a corner and repeated her instructions over to herself. She had not to wait long before Tinette put her head in and said abruptly, "Go downstairs into the study."
Heidi had not dared to ask Miss Rottermeyer again how she was to address the grandmother: she thought the lady had perhaps made a mistake, for she had never heard any one called by other than their right name. As she opened the study door she heard a kind voice say, "Ah, here comes the child! Come along and let me have a good look at you."
Heidi walked up to her and said very distinctly in her clear voice, "Good-evening, Mrs. Madam."
"Well!" said the grandmother laughing, "is that how they address people in your home on the mountain?"
"No," replied Heidi gravely, "I never knew any one with that name before."
"Nor I either," laughed the grandmother again as she patted Heidi's cheek. "Never mind! when I am with the children I am always grandmamma; you won't forget that name, will you?"
"No, no," Heidi assured her, "I often used to say it at home."
"I understand," said the grandmother, with a cheerful little nod of the head. Then she looked more closely at Heidi, and the child looked back at her with steady, serious eyes, for there was something kind and warm-hearted about this newcomer that pleased Heidi, and indeed everything about the grandmother attracted her. She had such beautiful white hair, and two long lace ends hung down from the cap on her head and waved gently about her face every time she moved, as if a soft breeze were blowing round her, which gave Heidi a peculiar feeling of pleasure.
"And what is your name, child?" the grandmother now asked.
"I am always called Heidi; but as I am now to be called Adelaide, I will try and take care—" Heidi stopped short, for Miss Rottermeyer was at this moment entering the room.
"Mrs. Sesemann will no doubt agree with me," she interrupted, "that it was necessary to choose a name that could be pronounced easily, if only for the sake of the servants."
"My worthy Rottermeyer," replied Mrs. Sesemann, "if a person is called 'Heidi' and has grown accustomed to that name, I call her by the same, and so let it be."
Miss Rottermeyer was always very much annoyed that the old lady continually addressed her by her surname only; but it was no use minding, for the grandmother always went her own way, and so there was no help for it. Moreover, the grandmother was a keen old lady, and had all her five wits about her, and she knew what was going on in the house as soon as she entered it.
When on the following day Clara lay down as usual on her couch after dinner, the grandmother sat down beside her for a few minutes and closed her eyes, then she got up again as lively as ever, and trotted off into the dining-room. No one was there. "Heidi is asleep, I suppose," she said to herself, and then going up to Miss Rottermeyer's room she gave a loud knock at the door. She waited a few minutes and then Miss Rottermeyer opened the door and drew back in surprise at this unexpected visit.
"Where is the child, and what is she doing all this time?" said Mrs. Sesemann.
"She is sitting in her room, where she could well employ herself if she had the least idea of making herself useful; but you have no idea, Mrs. Sesemann, of the out-of-the-way things this child imagines and does."
"I should do the same if I had to sit in there like that child, I can tell you; go bring her to my room; I have some pretty books with me that I should like to give her."
"That is just the misfortune," said Miss Rottermeyer with a despairing gesture, "what use are books to her? She has not been able to learn her A B C's even, all the long time she has been here; it is quite impossible to get the least idea of them into her head, and that the tutor himself will tell you; if he had not the patience of an angel he would have given up teaching her long ago."
"That is very strange," said Mrs. Sesemann, "she does not look to me like a child who would be unable to learn her alphabet."
Heidi now appeared and gazed with open-eyed delight and wonder at the beautiful colored pictures in the books which the grandmother gave her to look at. All of a sudden the child gave a start and burst into sobs, for she had turned to a picture of a green pasture, full of young animals, some grazing and others nibbling at the shrubs. In the middle was a shepherd leaning upon his staff and looking on at his happy flock.
The grandmother laid her hand kindly on Heidi's. "Don't cry, dear child, don't cry," she said, "the picture has reminded you perhaps of something. But see, there is a beautiful tale to the picture which I will tell you this evening. And there are other nice tales of all kinds to read and to tell again. But now we must have a little talk together, so dry your tears and come and stand in front of me and tell me how you are getting on in your school-time; do you like your lessons, and have you learnt a great deal?"
"O no!" replied Heidi sighing, "but I knew beforehand that it was not possible to learn."
"What is it you think impossible to learn?"
"Why, to read, it is too difficult."
"You don't say so! and who told you that?"
"Peter told me, and he knew all about it, for he had tried and tried and could not learn it."
"Peter must be a very odd boy then! But listen, Heidi, you must not always go by what Peter says. You must believe what I tell you—and I tell you that you can learn to read in a very little while, as many other children do, who are made like you and not like Peter. As soon as you are able to read you shall have that book for your own."
Heidi had listened with eager attention to the grandmother's words and now with a sigh exclaimed, "Oh, if only I could read now!"
"It won't take you long now to learn, that I can see; and now we must go down to Clara; bring the books with you." And hand in hand the two returned to the study.
Since the day when Heidi had so longed to go home, and Miss Rottermeyer had met her and scolded her on the steps, and told her how wicked and ungrateful she was to try and run away, a change had come over the child. She at last understood that she could not go home when she wished as Dete had told her, but that she would have to stay on in Frankfurt for a long, long time, perhaps for ever. The weight of trouble on the little heart grew heavier and heavier; she could no longer eat her food, and every day she grew a little paler. She lay awake for long hours at night, for as soon as she was alone and everything was still around her, the picture of the mountain with its sunshine and flowers rose vividly before her eyes; and when at last she fell asleep it was to dream of the rocks and the snow-field turning crimson in the evening light, and waking in the morning she would think herself back at the hut and prepare to run joyfully out into the sun—and then—there was her large bed, and here she was in Frankfurt far, far away from home. And Heidi would often lay her face down on the pillow and weep long and quietly so that no one might hear her.
Her unhappiness did not escape the grandmother's notice. One day she called her into her room, and said, "Now tell me, Heidi, what is the matter; are you in trouble?"
But Heidi, afraid if she told the truth that the grandmother would think her ungrateful, and would then leave off being so kind to her, answered, "I can't tell you."
"Well, could you tell Clara about it?"
"Oh no, I cannot tell any one," said Heidi in so positive a tone, and with a look of such trouble on her face, that the grandmother felt full of pity for the child.
"Then, dear child, let me tell you what to do: you know that when we are in great trouble, and cannot speak about it to anybody, we must turn to God and pray Him to help. You say your prayers every evening do you not?"
"No, I never say any prayers," answered Heidi.
"Have you never been taught to pray, Heidi; do you not know even what it means?"
"I used to say prayers with the first grandmother, but that is a long time ago, and I have forgotten them."
"That is the reason, Heidi, that you are so unhappy, because you know no one who can help you. Think what a comfort it is to be able to tell everything to God, and pray Him for the help that no one else can give us. And He can aid us and give us everything that will make us happy again."
A sudden gleam of joy came into Heidi's eyes. "May I tell Him everything, everything?"
"Yes, everything, Heidi, everything."
Heidi drew her hand away, which the grandmother was holding affectionately between her own, and said quickly, "May I go?"
"Yes, of course," was the answer, and Heidi ran out of the room into her own, and sitting herself on a stool, folded her hands together and told God about everything that was making her so sad and unhappy, and begged Him earnestly to help her and to let her go home to her grandfather.
It was about a week after this that the tutor informed Mrs. Sesemann that Heidi had really learnt to read at last.
GRANDMOTHER'S KIND ADVICE BRINGS COMFORT TO HEIDI
"It is indeed truly marvelous," he said, "because she never seemed able to even learn her A B C's before. I had made up my mind to make no further attempts at the impossible, but to put the letters as they were before her without any dissertation on their origin and meaning. Now she has learnt her letters and started at once to read correctly, quite unlike most beginners."
That same evening Heidi found the large book with the pictures, lying on her plate when she took her place at table, and when she looked questioningly at the grandmother, the latter nodded kindly to her and said, "Yes, it's yours now."
"Mine, to keep always? even when I go home?" said Heidi, blushing with pleasure.
"Yes, of course, yours for ever," the grandmother assured her. "Tomorrow we will begin to read it."
"But you are not going home yet, Heidi, not for years," put in Clara. "When grandmother goes away, I shall want you to stay on with me."
When Heidi went to her room that night she had another look at her book before going to bed, and from that day forth her chief pleasure was to read over and over again, the tales which belonged to the beautiful pictures.