“I do not want her to go to school,” said the old man, unrelentingly.
“What do you want the child to be?”
“I want her to be free and happy as a bird!”
“But she is human, and it is high time for her to learn something. I have come now to tell you about it, so that you can make your plans. She must come to school next winter; remember that.”
“I shan’t do it, pastor!” was the reply.
“Do you think there is no way?” the clergyman replied, a little hotly. “You know the world, for you have travelled far. What little sense you show!”
“You think I am going to send this delicate child to school in every storm and weather!” the old man said excitedly. “It is a two hours’ walk, and I shall not let her go; for the wind often howls so that it chokes me if I venture out. Did you know Adelheid, her mother? She was a sleepwalker, and had fainting-fits. Nobody shall compel me to let her go; I will gladly fight it out in court.”
“You are perfectly right,” said the clergyman kindly. “You could not send her to school from here. Why don’t you come down to live among us again? You are leading a strange life here; I wonder how you can keep the child warm in winter.”
“She has young blood and a good cover. I know where to find good wood, and all winter I keep a fire going. I couldn’t live in the village, for the people there and I despise each other; we had better keep apart.”
“You are mistaken, I assure you! Make your peace with God, and then you’ll see how happy you will be.”
The clergyman had risen, and holding out his hand, he said cordially: “I shall count on you next winter, neighbor. We shall receive you gladly, reconciled with God and man.”
But the uncle replied firmly, while he shook his visitor by the hand: “Thank you for your kindness, but you will have to wait in vain.”
“God be with you,” said the parson, and left him sadly.
The old man was out of humor that day, and when Heidi begged to go to the grandmother, he only growled: “Not today.” Next day they had hardly finished their dinner, when another visitor arrived. It was Heidi’s aunt Deta; she wore a hat with feathers and a dress with such a train that it swept up everything that lay on the cottage floor. While the uncle looked at her silently, Deta began to praise him and the child’s red cheeks. She told him that it had not been her intention to leave Heidi with him long, for she knew she must be in his way. She had tried to provide for the child elsewhere, and at last she had found a splendid chance for her. Very rich relations of her lady, who owned the largest house in Frankfurt, had a lame daughter. This poor little girl was confined to her rolling-chair and needed a companion at her lessons. Deta had heard from her lady that a sweet, quaint child was wanted as playmate and schoolmate for the invalid. She had gone to the housekeeper and told her all about Heidi. The lady, delighted with the idea, had told her to fetch the child at once. She had come now, and it was a lucky chance for Heidi, “for one never knew what might happen in such a case, and who could tell—”
“Have you finished?” the old man interrupted her at last.
“Why, one might think I was telling you the silliest things. There is not a man in Prätiggan who would not thank God for such news.”
“Bring them to somebody else, but not to me,” said the uncle, coldly.
Deta, flaming up, replied: “Do you want to hear what I think? Don’t I know how old she is; eight years old and ignorant of everything. They have told me that you refuse to send her to church and to school. She is my only sister’s child, and I shall not bear it, for I am responsible. You do not care for her, how else could you be indifferent to such luck. You had better give way or I shall get the people to back me. If I were you, I would not have it brought to court; some things might be warmed up that you would not care to hear about.”
“Be quiet!” the uncle thundered with flaming eyes. “Take her and ruin her, but do not bring her before my sight again. I do not want to see her with feathers in her hat and wicked words like yours.”
With long strides he went out.
“You have made him angry!” said Heidi with a furious look.
“He won’t be cross long. But come now, where are your things?” asked Deta.
“I won’t come,” Heidi replied.
“What?” Deta said passionately. But changing her tone, she continued in a more friendly manner: “Come now; you don’t understand me. I am taking you to the most beautiful place you have ever seen.” After packing up Heidi’s clothes she said again, “Come, child, and take your hat. It is not very nice, but we can’t help it.”
“I shall not come,” was the reply.
“Don’t be stupid and obstinate, like a goat. Listen to me. Grandfather is sending us away and we must do what he commands, or he will get more angry still. You’ll see how fine it is in Frankfurt. If you do not like it, you can come home again and by that time grandfather will have forgiven us.”
“Can I come home again tonight?” asked Heidi.
“Come now, I told you you could come back. If we get to Mayenfeld today, we can take the train tomorrow. That will make you fly home again in the shortest time!”
Holding the bundle, Deta led the child down the mountain. On their way they met Peter, who had not gone to school that day. The boy thought it was a
