WHEN Autumn came Clara was not so well and the doctor advised Mr. Sesemann to postpone the visit to Heidi till the following spring.
"I know how you hate to deny your child anything and especially this trip that she has so set her heart upon," said the kind-hearted old doctor, "but you must make up your mind to it, Sesemann. Clara has not had such a bad summer as this last one, for years. Only the worst results would follow from the fatigue of such a journey, and it is out of the question for her. If we want to give the child a chance of recovery we must use the utmost care and watchfulness."
Mr. Sesemann, who had listened to the doctor in sad and submissive silence, now suddenly jumped up. "Doctor," he said, "tell me truly: have you really any hope for her final recovery?"
The doctor shrugged his shoulders. "Very little," he replied quietly. "But, friend, think of my trouble. You still have a beloved child to look for you and greet you on your return home. You do not come back to an empty house and sit down to a solitary meal."
The once bright and cheery doctor was now a broken-hearted man. He could not get over the loss of his daughter who had died some months before, and who had been his sole and constant companion for many years.
Mr. Sesemann, who had been striding up and down the room, suddenly paused beside his friend and laying his hand on his shoulder said: "Doctor, I have an idea. How would it be for you to go, and pay Heidi a visit in our name? You need a change of scene. I cannot bear to see you so sad; you are no longer the same man."
The doctor was taken aback at this sudden proposal and wanted to make objections, but his friend gave him no time to say anything. He was so delighted with his idea, that he seized the doctor by the arm and drew him into Clara's room. She held out her hand to him as he came up to her; he took a seat beside her, and her father also drew up his chair, and taking Clara's hand in his began to talk to her of the Swiss journey and how he himself had looked forward to it. He passed as quickly as he could over the main point that it was now impossible for her to undertake it, for he dreaded the tears that would follow; but he went on without pause to tell her of his new plan, and dwelt on the great benefit it would be to his friend if he could be persuaded to take this holiday.
The tears were indeed swimming in the blue eyes, although Clara struggled to keep them down for her father's sake, but it was a bitter disappointment to give up the journey, the thought of which had been her only joy and solace during the lonely hours of her long illness. She knew, however, that her father would never refuse her a thing unless he was certain that it would be harmful for her. So she swallowed her tears as well as she could and turned her thoughts to the one hope still left her. Taking the doctor's hand and stroking it, she said pleadingly,—
"Dear doctor, you will go and see Heidi, won't you? and then you can come and tell me all about it, what it is like up there, and what Heidi and the grandfather, and Peter and the goats do all day. I know them all so well! And then you can take what I want to send to Heidi; I have thought about it all, and also something for the grandmother. Do pray go, dear doctor, and I will take as much cod liver oil as you like."
Whether this promise finally decided the doctor it is impossible to say, but it is certain that he smiled and said,—
"Then I must certainly go, Clara, for you will then get as plump and strong as your father and I wish to see you. And have you decided when I am to start?"
"Tomorrow morning—early if possible," replied Clara.
"Yes, she is right," put in Mr. Sesemann, "the sun is shining and the sky is blue, and there is no time to be lost; it is a pity to miss a single one of these days on the mountain."
The doctor could not help laughing. "You will be reproaching me next for not being there already; well I must go and make arrangements for getting off."
But Clara would not let him go until she had given him endless messages for Heidi, and had explained all he was to look at so as to give her an exact description on his return. She would pack the presents she had already bought, and send them to his house later.
The doctor promised to obey Clara's directions in every particular; he would start some time during the following day if not the first thing in the morning, and would bring back a faithful account of his experiences and of all he saw and heard.
He was hastening off when he met Miss Rottermeyer just returning from a walk. He informed her of his intended journey, begging her in his most conciliatory voice to pack up the parcels for Heidi as she alone knew how to pack. And then he took his leave.
Clara quite expected to have a long tussle with Miss Rottermeyer before she would get the latter to consent to sending all the things that she had collected as presents for Heidi. But this time she was mistaken, for Miss Rottermeyer was in a more than usually good temper. She cleared the large table so that all the things for Heidi could be spread out upon it and packed under Clara's own eyes. It was no light job, for the presents were of all shapes and sizes. First there was the little warm cloak with a hood, which had been designed by Clara herself, in order that Heidi during the coming winter might be able to go and see grandmother when she liked, and not have to wait till her grandfather could take her wrapped up in a sack to keep her from freezing. Then came a thick warm shawl for the grandmother, in which she could wrap herself well up and not feel the cold when the wind came sweeping in such terrible gusts round the house. The next object was the large box full of cakes; these were also for the grandmother, that she might have something to eat with her coffee besides bread. An immense sausage was the next article; this had been originally intended for Peter, who never had anything but bread and cheese, but Clara had altered her mind, fearing that in his delight he might eat it all up at once and make himself ill. So she arranged to send it to Brigitta, who could take some for herself and the grandmother and give Peter his portion out by degrees. A packet of tobacco was a present for grandfather, who was so fond of his pipe as he sat resting in the evening. Finally there was a whole lot of mysterious little bags, and parcels, and boxes, which Clara had had especial pleasure in collecting, as each was to be a joyful surprise for Heidi as she opened it. The work came to an end at last, and Clara eyed the big box with pleasure, picturing Heidi's exclamations and jumps of joy and surprise when the huge parcel arrived at the hut.
Sebastian came in, and lifting the package on to his shoulder, carried it off to be forwarded at once to the doctor's house.