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,
