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英語リスニング攻略ガイド88th Podcast Portal – リスニング向上委員会
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20

NEWS FROM DISTANT FRIENDS

May had come. Warm sunshine was bathing the whole Alp in glorious light, and having melted the last snow, had brought the first spring flowers to the surface. A merry spring wind was blowing, drying up the damp places in the shadow. High above in the azure heaven the eagle floated peacefully. Heidi and her grandfather were back on the Alp. The child was so happy to be home again that she jumped about among the beloved objects. Here she discovered a new spring bud, and there she watched the gay little gnats and beetles that were swarming in the sun. The grandfather was busy in his little shop, and a sound of hammering and sawing could be heard. Heidi had to go and see what the grandfather was making. There before the door stood a neat new chair, while the old man was busy making a second. “Oh, I know what they are for,” said Heidi gaily. “You are making them for Clara and grandmama. Oh, but we need a third–or do you think that Miss Rottenmeier won’t come, perhaps?” “I really don’t know,” said grandfather: “but it is safer to have a chair for her, if she should come.” Heidi, thoughtfully looking at the backless chairs, remarked: “Grandfather, I don’t think she would sit down on those.” “Then we must invite her to sit down on the beautiful green lounge of grass,” quietly answered the old man. While Heidi was still wondering what the grandfather had meant, Peter arrived, whistling and calling. As usual, Heidi was soon surrounded by the goats, who also seemed happy to be back on the Alp. Peter, angrily pushing the goats aside, marched up to Heidi, thrusting a letter into her hand. “Did you get a letter for me on the pasture?” Heidi said, astonished. “No.” “Where did it come from?” “From my bag.” The letter had been given to Peter the previous evening; putting it in his lunch-bag, the boy had forgotten it there till he opened the bag for his dinner. Heidi immediately recognized Clara’s handwriting, and bounding over to her grandfather, exclaimed: “A letter has come from Clara. Wouldn’t you like me to read it to you, grandfather?” Heidi immediately read to her two listeners, as follows:– DEAR HEIDI:– We are all packed up and shall travel in two or three days. Papa is leaving, too, but not with us, for he has to go to Paris first. The dear doctor visits us now every day, and as soon as he opens the door, he calls, ‘Away to the Alp!’ for he can hardly wait for us to go. If you only knew how he enjoyed being with you last fall! He came nearly every day this winter to tell us all about you and the grandfather and the mountains and the flowers he saw. He said that it was so quiet in the pure, delicious air, away from towns and streets, that everybody has to get well there. He is much better himself since his visit, and seems younger and happier. Oh, how I look forward to it all! The doctor’s advice is, that I shall go to Ragatz first for about six weeks, then I can go to live in the village, and from there I shall come to see you every fine day. Grandmama, who is coming with me, is looking forward to the trip too. But just think, Miss Rottenmeier does not want to go. When grandmama urges her, she always declines politely. I think Sebastian must have given her such a terrible description of the high rocks and fearful abysses, that she is afraid. I think he told her that it was not safe for anybody, and that only goats could climb such dreadful heights. She used to be so eager to go to Switzerland, but now neither Tinette nor she wants to take the risk. I can hardly wait to see you again! Good-bye, dear Heidi, with much love from grandmama, I am your true friend, CLARA. When Peter heard this, he swung his rod to right and left. Furiously driving the goats before him, he bounded down the hill. Heidi visited the grandmother next day, for she had to tell her the good news. Sitting up in her corner, the old woman was spinning as usual. Her face looked sad, for Peter had already announced the near visit of Heidi’s friends, and she dreaded the result. After having poured out her full heart, Heidi looked at the old woman. “What is it, grandmother?” said the child. “Are you not glad?” “Oh yes, Heidi, I am glad, because you are happy.” “But, grandmother, you seem so anxious. Do you still think Miss Rottenmeier is coming?” “Oh no, it is nothing. Give me your hand, for I want to be sure that you are still here. I suppose it will be for the best, even if I shall not live to see the day!” “Oh, but then I would not care about this coming,” said the child. The grandmother had hardly slept all night for thinking of Clara’s coming. Would they take Heidi away from her, now that she was well and strong? But for the sake of the child she resolved to be brave. “Heidi,” she said, “please read me the song that begins with ‘God will see to it.'” Heidi immediately did as she was told; she knew nearly all the grandmother’s favorite hymns by now and always found them quickly. “That does me good, child,” the old woman said. Already the expression of her face seemed happier and less troubled. “Please read it a few times over, child,” she entreated. Thus evening came, and when Heidi wandered homewards, one twinkling star after another appeared in the sky. Heidi stood still every few minutes, looking up to the firmament in wonder. When she arrived home, her grandfather also was looking up to the stars, murmuring to himself: “What a wonderful month!–one day clearer than the other. The herbs will be fine and strong this year.” The blossom month had passed, and June, with the long, long days, had come. Quantities of flowers were blooming everywhere, filling the air with perfume. The month was nearing its end, when one morning Heidi came running out of the hut, where she had already completed her duties. Suddenly she screamed so loud that the grandfather hurriedly came out to see what had happened. “Grandfather! Come here! Look, look!” A strange procession was winding up the Alm. First marched two men, carrying an open sedan chair with a young girl in it, wrapped up in many shawls. Then came a stately lady on horseback, who, talking with a young guide beside her, looked eagerly right and left. Then an empty rolling-chair, carried by a young fellow, was followed by a porter who had so many covers, shawls and furs piled up on his basket that they towered high above his head. “They are coming! they are coming!” cried Heidi in her joy, and soon the party had arrived at the top. Great was the happiness of the children at seeing each other again. When grandmama had descended from her horse, she tenderly greeted Heidi first, and then turned to the uncle, who had approached the group. The two met like two old friends, they had heard so much about each other. After the first words were exchanged, the grandmother exclaimed: “My dear uncle, what a wonderful residence you have. Who would have ever thought it! Kings could envy you here! Oh, how well my Heidi is looking, just like a little rose!” she continued, drawing the child closely to her side and patting her cheeks. “What glory everywhere! Clara, what do you say to it all?” Clara, looking about her rapturously, cried: “Oh, how wonderful, how glorious! I have never dreamt it could be as beautiful as that. Oh grandmama, I wish I could stay here!” The uncle had busied himself in the meantime with getting Clara’s rolling-chair for her. Then, going up to the girl, he gently lifted her into her seat. Putting some covers over her knees, he tucked her feet in warmly. It seemed as if the grandfather had done nothing else all his life than nurse lame people. “My dear uncle,” said the grandmama, surprised, “please tell me where you learned that, for I shall send all the nurses I know here immediately.” The uncle smiled faintly, while he replied: “It comes more from care than study.” His face became sad. Before his eyes had risen bygone times. For that was the way he used to care for his poor wounded captain, whom he had found in Sicily after a violent battle. He alone had been allowed to nurse him till his death, and now he would take just as good care of poor, lame Clara. When Clara had looked a long time at the cloudless sky above and all the rocky crags, she said longingly: “I wish I could walk round the hut to the fir-trees. If I only could see all the things you told me so much about!” Heidi pushed with all her might, and behold! the chair rolled easily over the dry grass. When they had come into the little grove, Clara could not see her fill of those splendid trees that must have stood there so many, many years. Although the people had changed and vanished, they had remained the same, ever looking down into the valley. When they passed the empty goat-shed, Clara said pitifully: “Oh grandmama, if I could only wait up here for Schwänli and Bärli! I am afraid I shan’t see Peter and his goats, if we have to go away so soon again.” “Dear child, enjoy now what you can,” said the grandmama, who had followed. “Oh, what wonderful flowers!” exclaimed Clara again; “whole bushes of exquisite, red blossoms. Oh, if I could only pick some of those bluebells!” Heidi, immediately gathering a large bunch, put them in Clara’s lap. “Clara, this is really nothing in comparison with the many flowers in the pasture. You must come up once and see them. There are so many that the ground seems golden with them. If you ever sit down among them, you will feel as if you could never get up any more, it is so beautiful.” “Oh, grandmama, do you think I can ever go up there?” Clara asked with a wild longing in her eyes. “If I could only walk with you, Heidi, and climb round everywhere!” “I’ll push you!” Heidi said for comfort. To show how easy it was, she pushed the chair at such a rate that it would have tumbled down the mountain, if the grandfather had not stopped it at the last moment. It was time for dinner now. The table was spread near the bench, and soon everybody sat down. The grandmother was so overcome by the view and the delicious wind that fanned her cheek that she remarked: “What a wondrous place this is! I have never seen its like! But what do I see?” she continued. “I think you are actually eating your second piece of cheese, Clara?” “Oh grandmama, it tastes better than all the things we get in Ragatz,” replied the child, eagerly eating the savory dish. “Don’t stop, our mountain wind helps along where the cooking is faulty!” contentedly said the old man. During the meal the uncle and the grandmama had soon got into a lively conversation. They seemed to agree on many things, and understood each other like old friends. A little later the grandmama looked over to the west. “We must soon start, Clara, for the sun is already low; our guides will be here shortly.” Clara’s face had become sad, and she entreated: “Oh, please let us stay here another hour or so. We haven’t even seen the hut yet. I wish the day were twice as long.” The grandmama assented to Clara’s wish to go inside. When the rolling-chair was found too broad for the door, the uncle quietly lifted Clara in his strong arms and carried her in. Grandmama was eagerly looking about her, glad to see everything so neat. Then going up the little ladder to the hay-loft, she discovered Heidi’s bed. “Is that your bed, Heidi? What a delicious perfume! It must be a healthy place to sleep,” she said, looking out through the window. The grandfather, with Clara, was coming up, too, with Heidi following. Clara was perfectly entranced. “What a lovely place to sleep! Oh, Heidi, you can look right up to the sky from your bed. What a good smell! You can hear the fir-trees roar here, can’t you? Oh, I never saw a more delightful bed-room!” The uncle, looking at the old lady, said now: “I have an idea that it would give Clara new strength to stay up here with us a little while. Of course, I only mean if you did not object. You have brought so many wraps that we can easily make a soft bed for Clara here. My dear lady, you can easily leave the care to me. I’ll undertake it gladly.” The children screamed for joy, and grandmama’s face was beaming. “What a fine man you are!” she burst out. “I was just thinking myself that a stay here would strengthen the child, but then I thought of the care and trouble for you. And now you have offered to do it, as if it was nothing at all. How can I thank you enough, uncle?” After shaking hands many times, the two prepared Clara’s bed, which, thanks to the old lady’s precautions, was soon so soft that the hay could not be felt through at all. The uncle had carried his new patient back to her rolling-chair, and there they found her sitting, with Heidi beside her. They were eagerly talking of their plans for the coming weeks. When they were told that Clara might stay for a month or so, their faces beamed more than ever. The guide, with the horse, and the carriers of the chair, now appeared, but the last two were not needed any more and could be sent away. When the grandmother got ready to leave, Clara called gaily to her: “Oh grandmama, it won’t be long, for you must often come and see us.” While the uncle was leading the horse down the steep incline, the grandmama told him that she would go back to Ragatz, for the Dörfli was too lonely for her. She also promised to come back from time to time. Before the grandfather had returned, Peter came racing down to the hut with all his goats. Seeing Heidi, they ran up to her in haste, and so Clara made the acquaintance of Schwänli and Bärli and all the others. Peter, however, kept away, only sending furious looks at the two girls. When they bade him good-night, he only ran away, beating the air with his stick. The end of the joyous day had come. The two children were both lying in their beds. “Oh, Heidi!” Clara exclaimed, “I can see so many glittering stars, and I feel as if we were driving in a high carriage straight into the sky.” “Yes, and do you know why the stars twinkle so merrily?” inquired Heidi. “No, but tell me.” “Because they know that God in heaven looks after us mortals and we never need to fear. See, they twinkle and show us how to be merry, too. But Clara, we must not forget to pray to God and ask Him to think of us and keep us safe.” Sitting up in bed, they then said their evening prayer. As soon as Heidi lay down, she fell asleep. But Clara could not sleep quite yet, it was too wonderful to see the stars from her bed. In truth she had never seen them before, because in Frankfurt all the blinds were always down long before the stars came out, and at night she had never been outside the house. She could hardly keep her eyes shut, and had to open them again and again to watch the twinkling, glistening stars, till her eyes closed at last and she saw two big, glittering stars in her dream.

21

OF FURTHER EVENTS ON THE ALP

The sun was just rising, and the Alm-Uncle was watching how mountain and dale awoke to the new day, and the clouds above grew brighter. Next, the old man turned to go back into the hut, and softly climbed the ladder. Clara, having just a moment ago opened her eyes, looked about her in amazement. Bright sunbeams danced on her bed. Where was she? But soon she discovered her sleeping friend, and heard the grandfather’s cheery voice: “How did you sleep? Not tired?” Clara, feeling fresh and rested, said that she had never slept better in all her life. Heidi was soon awake, too, and lost no time in coming down to join Clara, who was already sitting in the sun. A cool morning breeze fanned their cheeks, and the spicy fragrance from the fir-trees filled their lungs with every breath. Clara had never experienced such well-being in all her life. She had never breathed such pure, cool morning air and never felt such warm, delicious sunshine on her feet and hands. It surpassed all her expectations. “Oh, Heidi, I wish I could always stay up here with you!” she said. “Now you can see that everything is as beautiful as I told you,” Heidi replied triumphantly. “Up on the Alp with grandfather is the loveliest spot in all the world.” The grandfather was just coming out of the shed with two full bowls of steaming, snow-white milk. Handing one to each of the children, he said to Clara: “This will do you good, little girl. It comes from Schwänli and will give you strength. To your health! Just drink it!” he said encouragingly, for Clara had hesitated a little. But when she saw that Heidi’s bowl was nearly empty already, she also drank without even stopping. Oh, how good it was! It tasted like cinnamon and sugar. “We’ll take two tomorrow,” said the grandfather. After their breakfast, Peter arrived. While the goats were rushing up to Heidi, bleating loudly, the grandfather took the boy aside. “Just listen, and do what I tell you,” he said. “From now on you must let Schwänli go wherever she likes. She knows where to get the richest herbs, and you must follow her, even if she should go higher up than usual. It won’t do you any harm to climb a little more, and will do all the others good. I want the goats to give me splendid milk, remember. What are you looking at so furiously?” Peter was silent, and without more ado started off, still angrily looking back now and then. As Heidi had followed a little way, Peter called to her: “You must come along, Heidi, Schwänli has to be followed everywhere.” “No, but I can’t,” Heidi called back: “I won’t be able to come as long as Clara is with me. Grandfather has promised, though, to let us come up with you once.” With those words Heidi returned to Clara, while the goatherd was hurrying onward, angrily shaking his fists. The children had promised to write a letter to grandmama every day, so they immediately started on their task. Heidi brought out her own little three-legged stool, her school-books and her papers, and with these on Clara’s lap they began to write. Clara stopped after nearly every sentence, for she had to look around. Oh, how peaceful it was with the little gnats dancing in the sun and the rustling of the trees! From time to time they could hear the shouting of a shepherd re-echoed from many rocks. The morning had passed, they knew not how, and dinner was ready. They again ate outside, for Clara had to be in the open air all day, if possible. The afternoon was spent in the cool shadow of the fir-trees. Clara had many things to relate of Frankfurt and all the people that Heidi knew. It was not long before Peter arrived with his flock, but without even answering the girls’ friendly greeting, he disappeared with a grim scowl. While Schwänli was being milked in the shed, Clara said: “Oh, Heidi, I feel as if I could not wait for my milk. Isn’t it funny? All my life I have only eaten because I had to. Everything always tasted to me like cod-liver oil, and I have often wished that I should never have to eat. And now I am so hungry!” “Oh yes, I know,” Heidi replied. She had to think of the days in Frankfurt when her food seemed to stick in her throat. When at last the full bowls were brought by the old man, Clara, seizing hers, eagerly drank the contents in one draught and even finished before Heidi. “Please, may I have a little more?” she asked, holding out the bowl. Nodding, much pleased, the grandfather soon refilled it. This time he also brought with him a slice of bread and butter for the children. He had gone to Maiensass that afternoon to get the butter, and his trouble was well rewarded: they enjoyed it as if it had been the rarest dish. This evening Clara fell asleep the moment she lay down. Two or three days passed in this pleasant way. The next brought a surprise. Two strong porters came up the Alp, each carrying on his back a fresh, white bed. They also brought a letter from grandmama, in which she thanked the children for their faithful writing, and told them that the beds were meant for them. When they went to sleep that night, they found their new beds in exactly the same position as their former ones had been. Clara’s rapture in her new life grew greater every day, and she could not write enough of the grandfather’s kindly care and of Heidi’s entertaining stories. She told her grandmama that her first thought in the morning always was: “Thank God, I am still in the Alm-hut.” Grandmama was highly pleased at those reports, and put her projected visit off a little while, for she had found the ride pretty tiring. The grandfather took excellent care of his little patient, and no day passed on which he did not climb around to find the most savory herbs for Schwänli. The little goat thrived so that everybody could see it in the way her eyes were flashing. It was the third week of Clara’s stay. Every morning after the grandfather had carried her down, he said to her: “Would my Clara try to stand a little?” Clara always sighed, “Oh, it hurts me so!” but though she would cling to him, he made her stand a little longer every day. This summer was the finest that had been for years. Day after day the sun shone on a cloudless sky, and at night it would pour its purple, rosy light down on the rocks and snow-fields till everything seemed to glow like fire. Heidi had told Clara over and over again of all the flowers on the pasture, of the masses of golden roses and the blue-flowers that covered the ground. She had just been telling it again, when a longing seized her, and jumping up she ran over to her grandfather, who was busy carving in the shop. “Oh, grandfather,” she cried from afar, “won’t you come with us to the pasture tomorrow? Oh, it’s so beautiful up there now.” “All right, I will,” he replied; “but tell Clara that she must do something to please me; she must try to stand longer this evening for me.” Heidi merrily came running with her message. Of course, Clara promised, for was it not her greatest wish to go up with Heidi to the pasture! When Peter returned this evening, he heard of the plan for the morrow. But for answer Peter only growled, nearly hitting poor Thistlefinch in his anger. The children had just resolved to stay awake all night to talk about the coming day, when their conversation suddenly ceased and they were both peacefully slumbering. In her dreams Clara saw before her a field that was thickly strewn with light-blue flowers, while Heidi heard the eagle scream to her from above, “Come, come, come!”

22

SOMETHING UNEXPECTED HAPPENS

The next day dawned cloudless and fair. The grandfather was still with the children, when Peter came climbing up; his goats kept at a good distance from him, to evade the rod, which was striking right and left. The truth was that the boy was terribly embittered and angry by the changes that had come. When he passed the hut in the morning, Heidi was always busy with the strange child, and in the evening it was the same. All summer long Heidi had not been up with him a single time; it was too much! And to-day she was coming at last, but again in company with this hateful stranger. It was then that Peter noticed the rolling-chair standing near the hut. After carefully glancing about him, he rushed at the hated object and pushed it down the incline. The chair fairly flew away and had soon disappeared. Peter’s conscience smote him now, and he raced up the Alp, not daring to pause till he had reached a blackberry bush. There he could hide, when the uncle might appear. Looking down, he watched his fallen enemy tumbling downwards, downwards. Sometimes it was thrown high up into the air, to crash down again the next moment harder than ever. Pieces were falling from it right and left, and were blown about. Now the stranger would have to travel home and Heidi would be his again! But Peter had forgotten that a bad deed always brings a punishment. Heidi just now came out of the hut. The grandfather, with Clara, followed. Heidi at first stood still, and then, running right and left, she returned to the old man. “What does this mean? Have you rolled the chair away Heidi?” he asked. “I am just looking for it everywhere, grandfather. You said it was beside the shop door,” said the child, still hunting for the missing object. A strong wind was blowing, which at this moment violently closed the shop-door. “Grandfather, the wind has done it,” exclaimed Heidi eagerly. “Oh dear! if it has rolled all the way down to the village, it will be too late to go to-day. It will take us a long time to fetch it.” “If it has rolled down there, we shall never get it any more, for it will be smashed to pieces,” said the old man, looking down and measuring the distance from the corner of the hut. “I don’t see how it happened,” he remarked. “What a shame! now I’ll never be able to go up to the pasture,” lamented Clara. “I am afraid I’ll have to go home now. What a pity, what a pity!” “You can find a way for her to stay, grandfather, can’t you?” “We’ll go up to the pasture to-day, as we have planned. Then we shall see what further happens.” The children were delighted, and the grandfather lost no time in getting ready. First he fetched a pile of covers, and seating Clara on a sunny spot on the dry ground, he got their breakfast. “I wonder why Peter is so late to-day,” he said, leading his goats out of the shed. Then, lifting Clara up on one strong arm, he carried the covers on the other. “Now, march!” he cried. “The goats come with us.” That suited Heidi, and with one arm round Schwänli and the other round Bärli, she wandered up. Her little companions were so pleased at having her with them again that they nearly crushed her with affection. What was their astonishment when, arriving on top, they saw Peter already lying on the ground, with his peaceful flock about him. “What did you mean by going by us like that? I’ll teach you!” called the uncle to him. Peter was frightened, for he knew the voice. “Nobody was up yet,” the boy retorted. “Have you seen the chair?” asked the uncle again. “Which?” Peter growled. The uncle said no more. Unfolding the covers, he put Clara down on the dry grass. Then, when he had been assured of Clara’s comfort, he got ready to go home. The three were to stay there till his return in the evening. When dinner time had come, Heidi was to prepare the meal and see that Clara got Schwänli’s milk. The sky was a deep blue, and the snow on the peaks was glistening. The eagle was floating above the rocky crags. The children felt wonderfully happy. Now and then one of the goats would come and lie down near them. Tender little Snowhopper came oftener than any and would rub her head against their shoulders. They had been sitting quietly for a few hours, drinking in the beauty about them, when Heidi suddenly began to long for the spot where so many flowers grew. In the evening it would be too late to see them, for they always shut their little eyes by then. “Oh, Clara,” she said hesitatingly, “would you be angry if I went away from you a minute and left you alone? I want to see the flowers; But wait!–” Jumping away, she brought Clara some bunches of fragrant herbs and put them in her lap. Soon after she returned with little Snowhopper. “So, now you don’t need to be alone,” said Heidi. When Clara had assured her that it would give her pleasure to be left alone with the goats, Heidi started on her walk. Clara slowly handed one leaf after another to the little creature; it became more and more confiding, and cuddling close to the child, ate the herbs out of her hand. It was easy to see how happy it was to be away from the boisterous big goats, which often annoyed it. Clara felt a sensation of contentment such as she had never before experienced. She loved to sit there on the mountain-side with the confiding little goat by her. A great desire rose in her heart that hour. She longed to be her own master and be able to help others instead of being helped by them. Many other thoughts and ideas rushed through her mind. How would it be to live up here in continual sunshine? The world seemed so joyous and wonderful all of a sudden. Premonitions of future undreamt-of happiness made her heart beat. Suddenly she threw both arms about the little goat and said: “Oh, little Snowhopper how beautiful it is up here! If I could always stay with you!” Heidi in the meantime had reached the spot, where, as she had expected, the whole ground was covered with yellow rock-roses. Near together in patches the bluebells were nodding gently in the breeze. But all the perfume that filled the air came from the modest little brown flowers that hid their heads between the golden flower-cups. Heidi stood enraptured, drawing in the perfumed air. Suddenly she turned and ran back to Clara, shouting to her from far: “Oh, you must come, Clara, it is so lovely there. In the evening it won’t be so fine any more. Don’t you think I could carry you?” “But Heidi,” Clara said, “of course you can’t; you are much smaller than I am. Oh, I wish I could walk!” Heidi meditated a little. Peter was still lying on the ground. He had been staring down for hours, unable to believe what he saw before him. He had destroyed the chair to get rid of the stranger, and there she was again, sitting right beside his playmate. Heidi now called to him to come down, but as reply he only grumbled: “Shan’t come.” “But you must; come quickly, for I want you to help me. Quickly!” urged the child. “Don’t want to,” sounded the reply. Heidi hurried up the mountain now and shouted angrily to the boy: “Peter, if you don’t come this minute, I shall do something that you won’t like.” Those words scared Peter, for his conscience was not clear. His deed had rejoiced him till this moment, when Heidi seemed to talk as if she knew it all. What if the grandfather should hear about it! Trembling with fear, Peter obeyed. “I shall only come if you promise not to do what you said,” insisted the boy. “No, no, I won’t. Don’t be afraid,” said Heidi compassionately: “Just come along; it isn’t so hard.” Peter, on approaching Clara, was told to help raise the lame child from the ground on one side, while Heidi helped on the other. This went easily enough, but difficulties soon followed. Clara was not able to stand alone, and how could they get any further? “You must take me round the neck,” said Heidi, who had seen what poor guides they made. The boy, who had never offered his arm to anybody in his life, had to be shown how first, before further efforts could be made. But it was too hard. Clara tried to set her feet forward, but got discouraged. “Press your feet on the ground more and I am sure it will hurt you less,” suggested Heidi. “Do you think so?” said Clara, timidly. But, obeying, she ventured a firmer step and soon another, uttering a little cry as she went. “Oh, it really has hurt me less,” she said joyfully. “Try it again,” Heidi urged her. Clara did, and took another step, and then another, and another still. Suddenly she cried aloud: “Oh, Heidi, I can do it. Oh, I really can. Just look! I can take steps, one after another.” Heidi rapturously exclaimed: “Oh, Clara, can you really? Can you walk? Oh, can you take steps now? Oh, if only grandfather would come! Now you can walk, Clara, now you can walk,” she kept on saying joyfully. Clara held on tight to the children, but with every new step she became more firm. “Now you can come up here every day,” cried Heidi. “Now we can walk wherever we want to and you don’t have to be pushed in a chair any more. Now you’ll be able to walk all your life. Oh, what joy!” Clara’s greatest wish, to be able to be well like other people, had been fulfilled at last. It was not very far to the flowering field. Soon they reached it and sat down among the wealth of bloom. It was the first time that Clara had ever rested on the dry, warm earth. All about them the flowers nodded and exhaled their perfume. It was a scene of exquisite beauty. The two children could hardly grasp this happiness that had come to them. It filled their hearts brimming full and made them silent. Peter also lay motionless, for he had gone to sleep. Thus the hours flew, and the day was long past noon. Suddenly all the goats arrived, for they had been seeking the children. They did not like to graze in the flowers, and were glad when Peter awoke with their loud bleating. The poor boy was mightily bewildered, for he had dreamt that the rolling-chair with the red cushions stood again before his eyes. On awaking, he had still seen the golden nails; but soon he discovered that they were nothing but flowers. Remembering his deed, he obeyed Heidi’s instructions willingly. When they came back to their former place, Heidi lost no time in setting out the dinner. The bag was very full to-day, and Heidi hurried to fulfill her promise to Peter, who with bad conscience had understood her threat differently. She made three heaps of the good things, and when Clara and she were through, there was still a lot left for the boy. It was too bad that all this treat did not give him the usual satisfaction, for something seemed to stick in his throat. Soon after their belated dinner, the grandfather was seen climbing up the Alp. Heidi ran to meet him, confusedly telling him of the great event. The old man’s face shone at this news. Going over to Clara, he said: “So you have risked it? Now we have won.” Then picking her up, he put one arm around her waist, and the other one he stretched out as support, and with his help she marched more firmly than ever. Heidi jumped and bounded gaily by their side. In all this excitement the grandfather did not lose his judgment, and before long lifted Clara on his arm to carry her home. He knew that too much exertion would be dangerous, and rest was needed for the tired girl. Peter, arriving in the village late that day, saw a large disputing crowd. They were all standing about an interesting object, and everybody pushed and fought for a chance to get nearest. It was no other than the chair. “I saw it when they carried it up,” Peter heard the baker say. “I bet it was worth at least five hundred francs. I should just like to know how it has happened.” “The wind might have blown it down,” remarked Barbara, who was staring open-mouthed at the beautiful velvet cushions. “The uncle said so himself.” “It is a good thing if nobody else has done it,” continued the baker. “When the gentleman from Frankfurt hears what has happened, he’ll surely find out all about it, and I should pity the culprit. I am glad I haven’t been up on the Alm for so long, else they might suspect me, as they would anybody who happened to be up there at the time.” Many more opinions were uttered, but Peter had heard enough. He quietly slipped away and went home. What if they should find out he had done it? A policeman might arrive any time now and they might take him away to prison. Peter’s hair stood up on end at this alarming thought. He was so troubled when he came home that he did not answer any questions and even refused his dish of potatoes. Hurriedly creeping into bed, he groaned. “I am sure Peter has eaten sorrel again, and that makes him groan so,” said his mother. “You must give him a little more bread in the morning, Brigida. Take a piece of mine,” said the compassionate grandmother. When Clara and Heidi were lying in their beds that night, glancing up at the shining stars, Heidi remarked: “Didn’t you think to-day, Clara, that it is fortunate God does not always give us what we pray for fervently, because He knows of something better?” “What do you mean, Heidi?” asked Clara. “You see, when I was in Frankfurt I prayed and prayed to come home again, and when I couldn’t, I thought He had forgotten me. But if I had gone away so soon you would never have come here and would never have got well.” Clara, becoming thoughtful, said: “But, Heidi, then we could not pray for anything any more, because we would feel that He always knows of something better.” “But, Clara, we must pray to God every day to show we don’t forget that all gifts come from Him. Grandmama has told me that God forgets us if we forget Him. But if some wish remains unfulfilled we must show our confidence in Him, for he knows best.” “How did you ever think of that?” asked Clara. “Grandmama told me, but I know that it is so. We must thank God to-day that He has made you able to walk, Clara.” “I am glad that you have reminded me, Heidi, for I have nearly forgotten it in my excitement.” The children both prayed and sent their thanks up to heaven for the restoration of the invalid. Next morning a letter was written to grandmama, inviting her to come up to the Alp within a week’s time, for the children had planned to take her by surprise. Clara hoped then to be able to walk alone, with Heidi for her guide. The following days were happier still for Clara. Every morning she awoke with her heart singing over and over again, “Now I am well! Now I can walk like other people!” She progressed, and took longer walks every day. Her appetite grew amazingly, and the grandfather had to make larger slices of the bread and butter that, to his delight, disappeared so rapidly. He had to fill bowl after bowl of the foaming milk for the hungry children. In that way they reached the end of the week that was to bring the grandmama.

23

PARTING TO MEET AGAIN

A day before her visit the grandmama had sent a letter to announce her coming. Peter brought it up with him next morning. The grandfather was already before the hut with the children and his merry goats. His face looked proud, as he contemplated the rosy faces of the girls and the shining hair of his two goats. Peter, approaching, neared the uncle slowly. As soon as he had delivered the letter, he sprang back shyly, looking about him as if he was afraid. Then with a leap he started off. “I should like to know why Peter behaves like the Big Turk when he is afraid of the rod,” said Heidi, watching his strange behavior. “Maybe Peter fears a rod that he deserves,” said the old man. All the way Peter was tormented with fear. He could not help thinking of the policeman who was coming from Frankfurt to fetch him to prison. It was a busy morning for Heidi, who put the hut in order for the expected visitor. The time went by quickly, and soon everything was ready to welcome the good grandmama. The grandfather also returned from a walk, on which he had gathered a glorious bunch of deep-blue gentians. The children, who were sitting on the bench, exclaimed for joy when they saw the glowing flowers. Heidi, getting up from time to time to spy down the path, suddenly discovered grandmama, sitting on a white horse and accompanied by two men. One of them carried plenty of wraps, for without those the lady did not dare to pay such a visit. The party came nearer and nearer, and soon reached the top. “What do I see? Clara, what is this? Why are you not sitting in your chair? How is this possible?” cried the grandmama in alarm, dismounting hastily. Before she had quite reached the children she threw her arms up in great excitement: “Clara, is that really you? You have red, round cheeks, my child! I hardly know you any more!” Grandmama was going to rush at her grandchild, when Heidi slipped from the bench, and Clara, taking her arm, they quietly took a little walk. The grandmama was rooted to the spot from fear. What was this? Upright and firm, Clara walked beside her friend. When they came back their rosy faces beamed. Rushing toward the children, the grandmother hugged them over and over again. Looking over to the bench, she beheld the uncle, who sat there smiling. Taking Clara’s arm in hers, she walked over to him, continually venting her delight. When she reached the old man, she took both his hands in hers and said: “My dear, dear uncle! What have we to thank you for! This is your work, your care and nursing–” “But our Lord’s sunshine and mountain air,” interrupted the uncle, smiling. Then Clara called, “Yes, and also Schwänli’s good, delicious milk. Grandmama, you ought to see how much goat-milk I can drink now; oh, it is so good!” “Indeed I can see that from your cheeks,” said the grandmama, smiling. “No, I hardly recognize you any more. You have become broad and round! I never dreamt that you could get so stout and tall! Oh, Clara, is it really true? I cannot look at you enough. But now I must telegraph your father to come. I shan’t tell him anything about you, for it will be the greatest joy of all his life. My dear uncle, how are we going to manage it? Have you sent the men away?” “I have, but I can easily send the goatherd.” So they decided that Peter should take the message. The uncle immediately whistled so loud that it resounded from all sides. Soon Peter arrived, white with fear, for he thought his doom had come. But he only received a paper that was to be carried to the post-office of the village. Relieved for the moment, Peter set out. Now all the happy friends sat down round the table, and grandmama was told how the miracle had happened. Often the talk was interrupted by exclamations of surprise from grandmama, who still believed it was all a dream. How could this be her pale, weak little Clara? The children were in a constant state of joy, to see how their surprise had worked. Meanwhile Mr. Sesemann, having finished his business in Paris, was also preparing a surprise. Without writing his mother he traveled to Ragatz on a sunny summer morning. He had arrived on this very day, some hours after his mother’s departure, and now, taking a carriage, he drove to Mayenfeld. The long ascent to the Alp from there seemed very weary and far to the traveller. When would he reach the goat-herd’s hut? There were many little roads branching off in several directions, and sometimes Mr. Sesemann doubted if he had taken the right path. But not a soul was near, and no sound could be heard except the rustling of the wind and the hum of little insects. A merry little bird was singing on a larch-tree, but nothing more. Standing still and cooling his brow, he saw a boy running down the hill at topmost speed. Mr. Sesemann called to him, but with no success, for the boy kept at a shy distance. “Now, my boy, can’t you tell me if I am on the right path to the hut where Heidi lives and the people from Frankfurt are staying?” A dull sound of terror was the only reply. Peter shot off and rushed head over heels down the mountain-side, turning wild somersaults on his perilous way. His course resembled the course his enemy had taken some days ago. “What a funny, bashful mountaineer!” Mr. Sesemann remarked to himself, thinking that the appearance of a stranger had upset this simple son of the Alps. After watching the downward course of the boy a little while, he soon proceeded on his way. In spite of the greatest effort, Peter could not stop himself, and kept rolling on. But his fright and terror were still more terrible than his bumps and blows. This stranger was the policeman, that was a certain fact! At last, being thrown against a bush, he clutched it wildly. “Good, here’s another one!” a voice near Peter said. “I wonder who is going to be pushed down tomorrow, looking like a half-open potato-bag?” The village baker was making fun of him. For a little rest after his weary work, he had quietly watched the boy. Peter regained his feet and slunk away. How did the baker know the chair had been pushed? He longed to go home to bed and hide, for there alone he felt safe. But he had to go up to the goats, and the uncle had clearly told him to come back as quickly as he could. Groaning, he limped away up to the Alp. How could he run now, with his fear and all his poor, sore limbs? Mr. Sesemann had reached the hut soon after meeting Peter, and felt reassured. Climbing further, with renewed courage, he at last saw his goal before him, but not without long and weary exertion. He saw the Alm-hut above him, and the swaying fir-trees. Mr. Sesemann eagerly hurried to encounter his beloved child. They had seen him long ago from the hut, and a treat was prepared for him that he never suspected. As he made the last steps, he saw two forms coming towards him. A tall girl, with light hair and rosy face, was leaning on Heidi, whose dark eyes sparkled with keen delight. Mr. Sesemann stopped short, staring at this vision. Suddenly big tears rushed from his eyes, for this shape before him recalled sweet memories. Clara’s mother had looked exactly like this fair maiden. Mr. Sesemann at this moment did not know if he was awake or dreaming. “Papa, don’t you know me any more?” Clara called with beaming eyes. “Have I changed so much?” Mr. Sesemann rushed up to her, folding her in his arms. “Yes, you _have_ changed. How is it possible? Is it really true? Is it really you, Clara?” asked the over-joyed father, embracing her again and again, and then gazing at her, as she stood tall and firm by his side. His mother joined them now, for she wanted to see the happiness of her son. “What do you say to this, my son? Isn’t our surprise finer than yours?” she greeted him. “But come over to our benefactor now,–I mean the uncle.” “Yes, indeed, I also must greet our little Heidi,” said the gentleman, shaking Heidi’s hand. “Well? Always fresh and happy on the mountain? I guess I don’t need to ask, for no Alpine rose can look more blooming. Ah, child, what joy this is to me!” With beaming eyes the child looked at the kind gentleman who had always been so good to her. Her heart throbbed in sympathy with his joy. While the two men, who had at last approached each other, were conversing, grandmama walked over to the grove. There, under the fir-trees, another surprise awaited her. A beautiful bunch of wondrously blue gentians stood as if they had grown there. “How exquisite, how wonderful! What a sight!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands. “Heidi, come here! Have you brought me those? Oh, they are beautiful!” The children had joined her, Heidi assuring her that it was another person’s deed. “Oh grandmama, up on the pasture it looks just like that,” Clara remarked. “Just guess who brought you the flowers?” At that moment a rustle was heard, and they saw Peter, who was trying to sneak up behind the trees to avoid the hut. Immediately the old lady called to him, for she thought that Peter himself had picked the flowers for her. He must be creeping away out of sheer modesty, the kind lady thought. To give him his reward, she called: “Come here, my boy! don’t be afraid.” Petrified with fear, Peter stood still. What had gone before had robbed him of his courage. He thought now that all was over with him. With his hair standing up on end and his pale face distorted by anguish, he approached. “Come straight to me, boy,” the old lady encouraged him. “Now tell me, boy, if you have done that.” In his anxiety, Peter did not see the grandmama’s finger that pointed to the flowers. He only saw the uncle standing near the hut, looking at him penetratingly, and beside him the policeman, the greatest horror for him in the world. Trembling in every limb, Peter answered, “Yes!” “Well, but what are you so frightened about?” “Because–because it is broken and can never be mended again,” Peter said, his knees tottering under him. The grandmama now walked over to the hut: “My dear uncle,” she asked kindly, “is this poor lad out of his mind?” “Not at all,” was the reply; “only the boy was the wind which blew away the wheel-chair. He is expecting the punishment he well deserves.” Grandmama was very much surprised, for she vowed that Peter looked far from wicked. Why should he have destroyed the chair? The uncle told her that he had noticed many signs of anger in the boy since Clara’s advent on the Alp. He assured her that he had suspected the boy from the beginning. “My dear uncle,” the old lady said with animation, “we must not punish him further. We must be just. It was very hard on him when Clara robbed him of Heidi, who is and was his greatest treasure. When he had to sit alone day after day, it roused him to a passion which drove him to this wicked deed. It was rather foolish, but we all get so when we get angry.” The lady walked over to the boy again, who was still quivering with fear. Sitting down on the bench, she began: “Come, Peter, I’ll tell you something. Stop trembling and listen. You pushed the chair down, to destroy it. You knew very well that it was wicked and deserved punishment. You tried very hard to conceal it, did you not? But if somebody thinks that nobody knows about a wicked deed, he is wrong; God always knows it. As soon as He finds that a man is trying to conceal an evil he has done, He wakens a little watchman in his heart, who keeps on pricking the person with a thorn till all his rest is gone. He keeps on calling to the evildoer: ‘Now you’ll be found out! Now your punishment is near!’–His joy has flown, for fear and terror take its place. Have you not just had such an experience, Peter?” Peter nodded, all contrite. He certainly had experienced this. “You have made a mistake,” the grandmama continued, “by thinking that you would hurt Clara by destroying her chair. It has so happened that what you have done has been the greatest good for her. She would probably never have tried to walk, if her chair had been there. If she should stay here, she might even go up to the pasture every single day. Do you see, Peter? God can turn a misdeed to the good of the injured person and bring trouble on the offender. Have you understood me, Peter? Remember the little watchman when you long to do a wicked deed again. Will you do that?” “Yes, I shall,” Peter replied, still fearing the policeman, who had not left yet. “So now that matter is all settled,” said the old lady in conclusion. “Now tell me if you have a wish, my boy, for I am going to give you something by which to remember your friends from Frankfurt. What is it? What would you like to have?” Peter, lifting his head, stared at the grandmama with round, astonished eyes. He was confused by this sudden change of prospect. Being again urged to utter a wish, he saw at last that he was saved from the power of the terrible man. He felt as if the most crushing load had fallen off him. He knew now that it was better to confess at once, when something had gone wrong, so he said: “I have also lost the paper.” Reflecting a while, the grandmama understood and said: “That is right. Always confess what is wrong, then it can be settled. And now, what would you like to have?” So Peter could choose everything in the world he wished. His brain got dizzy. He saw before him all the wonderful things in the fair in Mayenfeld. He had often stood there for hours, looking at the pretty red whistles and the little knives; unfortunately Peter had never possessed more than half what those objects cost. He stood thinking, not able to decide, when a bright thought struck him. “Ten pennies,” said Peter with decision. “That certainly is not too much,” the old lady said with a smile, taking out of her pocket a big, round thaler, on top of which she laid twenty pennies. “Now I’ll explain this to you. Here you have as many times ten pennies as there are weeks in the year. You’ll be able to spend one every Sunday through the year.” “All my life?” Peter asked quite innocently. The grandmama began to laugh so heartily at this that the two men came over to join her. Laughingly she said: “You shall have it my boy; I will put it in my will and then you will do the same, my son. Listen! Peter the goatherd shall have a ten-penny piece weekly as long as he lives.” Mr. Sesemann nodded. Peter, looking at his gift, said solemnly: “God be thanked!” Jumping and bounding, he ran away. His heart was so light that he felt he could fly. A little later the whole party sat round the table holding a merry feast. After dinner, Clara, who was lively as never before, said to her father: “Oh, Papa, if you only knew all the things grandfather did for me. It would take many days to tell you; I shall never forget them all my life. Oh, if we could please him only half as much as what he did for me.” “It is my greatest wish, too, dear child,” said her father; “I have been trying to think of something all the time. We have to show our gratitude in some way.” Accordingly Mr. Sesemann walked over to the old man, and began: “My dear friend, may I say one word to you. I am sure you believe me when I tell you that I have not known any real joy for years. What was my wealth to me when I could not cure my child and make her happy! With the help of the Lord you have made her well. You have given her a new life. Please tell me how to show my gratitude to you. I know I shall never be able to repay you, but what is in my power I shall do. Have you any request to make? Please let me know.” The uncle had listened quietly and had looked at the happy father. “Mr. Sesemann, you can be sure that I also am repaid by the great joy I experience at the recovery of Clara,” said the uncle firmly. “I thank you for your kind offer, Mr. Sesemann. As long as I live I have enough for me and the child. But I have one wish. If this could be fulfilled, my life would be free of care.” “Speak, my dear friend,” urged Clara’s father. “I am old,” continued the uncle, “and shall not live many years. When I die I cannot leave Heidi anything. The child has no relations except one, who even might try to take advantage of her if she could. If you would give me the assurance, Mr. Sesemann, that Heidi will never be obliged to go into the world and earn her bread, you would amply repay me for what I was able to do for you and Clara.” “My dear friend, there is no question of that,” began Mr. Sesemann; “the child belongs to us! I promise at once that we shall look after her so that there will not be any need of her ever earning her bread. We all know that she is not fashioned for a life among strangers. Nevertheless, she has made some true friends, and one of them will be here very shortly. Dr. Classen is just now completing his last business in Frankfurt. He intends to take your advice and live here. He has never felt so happy as with you and Heidi. The child will have two protectors near her, and I hope with God’s will, that they may be spared a long, long time.” “And may it be God’s will!” added the grandmama, who with Heidi had joined them, shaking the uncle tenderly by the hand. Putting her arms around the child, she said: “Heidi, I want to know if you also have a wish?” “Yes indeed, I have,” said Heidi, pleased. “Tell me what it is, child!” “I should like to have my bed from Frankfurt with the three high pillows and the thick, warm cover. Then grandmother will be able to keep warm and won’t have to wear her shawl in bed. Oh, I’ll be so happy when she won’t have to lie with her head lower than her heels, hardly able to breathe!” Heidi had said all this in one breath, she was so eager. “Oh dear, I had nearly forgotten what I meant to do. I am so glad you have reminded me, Heidi. If God sends us happiness we must think of those who have many privations. I shall telegraph immediately for the bed, and if Miss Rottenmeier sends it off at once, it can be here in two days. I hope the poor blind grandmother will sleep better when it comes.” Heidi, in her happiness, could hardly wait to bring the old woman the good news. Soon it was resolved that everybody should visit the grandmother, who had been left alone so long. Before starting, however, Mr. Sesemann revealed his plans. He proposed to travel through Switzerland with his mother and Clara. He would spend the night in the village, so as to fetch Clara from the Alm next morning for the journey. From there they would go first to Ragatz and then further. The telegram was to be mailed that night. Clara’s feelings were divided, for she was sorry to leave the Alp, but the prospect of the trip delighted her. When everything was settled, they all went down, the uncle carrying Clara, who could not have risked the lengthy walk. All the way down Heidi told the old lady of her friends in the hut; the cold they had to bear in winter and the little food they had. Brigida was just hanging up Peter’s shirt to dry, when the whole company arrived. Rushing into the house, she called to her mother: “Now they are all going away. Uncle is going, too, carrying the lame child.” “Oh, must it really be?” sighed the grandmother. “Have you seen whether they took Heidi away? Oh, if she only could give me her hand once more! Oh, I long to hear her voice once more!” The same moment the door was flung open and Heidi held her tight. “Grandmother, just think. My bed with the three pillows and the thick cover is coming from Frankfurt. Grandmama has said that it will be here in two days.” Heidi thought that grandmother would be beside herself with joy, but the old woman, smiling sadly, said: “Oh, what a good lady she must be! I know I ought to be glad she is taking you with her, Heidi, but I don’t think I shall survive it long.” “But nobody has said so,” the grandmama, who had overheard those words, said kindly. Pressing the old woman’s hand, she continued: “It is out of the question. Heidi will stay with you and make you happy. To see Heidi again, we will come up every year to the Alm, for we have many reasons to thank the Lord there.” Immediately the face of the grandmother lighted up, and she cried tears of joy. “Oh, what wonderful things God is doing for me!” said the grandmother, deeply touched. “How good people are to trouble themselves about such a poor old woman as I. Nothing in this world strengthens the belief in a good Father in Heaven more than this mercy and kindness shown to a poor, useless little woman, like me.” “My dear grandmother,” said Mrs. Sesemann, “before God in Heaven we are all equally miserable and poor; woe to us, if He should forget us!–But now we must say good-bye; next year we shall come to see you just as soon as we come up the Alp. We shall never forget you!” With that, Mrs. Sesemann shook her hand. It was some time before she was allowed to leave, however, because the grandmother thanked her over and over again, and invoked all Heaven’s blessings on her and her house. Mr. Sesemann and his mother went on down, while Clara was carried up to spend her last night in the hut. Next morning, Clara shed hot tears at parting from the beloved place, where such gladness had been hers. Heidi consoled her with plans for the coming summer, that was to be even more happy than this one had been. Mr. Sesemann then arrived, and a few last parting words were exchanged. Clara, half crying, suddenly said: “Please give my love to Peter and the goats, Heidi! Please greet Schwänli especially from me, for she has helped a great deal in making me well. What could I give her?” “You can send her salt, Clara. You know how fond she is of that,” advised little Heidi. “Oh, I will surely do that,” Clara assented. “I’ll send her a hundred pounds of salt as a remembrance from me.” It was time to go now, and Clara was able to ride proudly beside her father. Standing on the edge of the slope, Heidi waved her hand, her eyes following Clara till she had disappeared.

The bed has arrived. Grandmother sleeps so well every night now, that before long she will be stronger than ever. Grandmama has not forgotten the cold winter on the Alp and has sent a great many warm covers and shawls to the goatherd’s hut. Grandmother can wrap herself up now and will not have to sit shivering in a corner. In the village a large building is in progress. The doctor has arrived and is living at present in his old quarters. He has taken the uncle’s advice and has bought the old ruins that sheltered Heidi and her grandfather the winter before. He is rebuilding for himself the portion with the fine apartment already mentioned. The other side is being prepared for Heidi and her grandfather. The doctor knows that his friend is an independent man and likes to have his own dwelling. Bärli and Schwänli, of course, are not forgotten; they will spend the winter in a good solid stable that is being built for them. The doctor and the Alm-Uncle become better friends every day. When they overlook the progress of the building, they generally come to speak of Heidi. They both look forward to the time when they will be able to move into the house with their merry charge. They have agreed to share together the pleasure and responsibility that Heidi brings them. The uncle’s heart is filled with gratitude too deep for any words when the doctor tells him that he will make ample provision for the child. Now her grandfather’s heart is free of care, for if he is called away, another father will take care of Heidi and love her in his stead. At the moment when our story closes, Heidi and Peter are sitting in grandmother’s hut. The little girl has so many interesting things to relate and Peter is trying so hard not to miss anything, that in their eagerness they are not aware that they are near the happy grandmother’s chair. All summer long they have hardly met, and very many wonderful things have happened. They are all glad at being together again, and it is hard to tell who is the happiest of the group. I think Brigida’s face is more radiant than any, for Heidi has just told her the story of the perpetual ten-penny piece. Finally the grandmother says: “Heidi, please read me a song of thanksgiving and praise. I feel that I must praise and thank the Lord for the blessings He has brought to us all!”

The End.