Heidi, Johanna Spyri [reading e books .TXT] 📗

straw hat lying under the counterpane. She snatched it up

with delight, made it more out of shape still in her joy, and

then, after wrapping a handkerchief round it, she stuck it in a

corner of the cupboard as far back as she could.

 

It was Sebastian who had hidden it there for her; he had been in

the dining-room when Tinette was called, and had heard all that

went on with the child and the latter’s loud weeping. So he

followed Tinette, and when she came out of Heidi’s room carrying

the rolls and the hat, he caught up the hat and said, “I will

see to this old thing.” He was genuinely glad to have been able

to save it for Heidi, and that was the meaning of his encouraging

signs to her at supper.

 

CHAPTER IX. HERR SESEMANN HEARS OF THINGS WHICH ARE NEW TO HIM

 

A few days after these events there was great commotion and much

running up and down stairs in Herr Sesemann’s house. The master

had just returned, and Sebastian and Tinette were busy carrying

up one package after another from the carriage, for Herr

Sesemann always brought back a lot of pretty things for his home.

He himself had not waited to do anything before going in to see

his daughter. Heidi was sitting beside her, for it was late

afternoon, when the two were always together. Father and

daughter greeted each other with warm affection, for they were

deeply attached to one another. Then he held out his hand to

Heidi, who had stolen away into the corner, and said kindly to

her, “And this is our little Swiss girl; come and shake hands

with me! That’s right! Now, tell me, are Clara and you good

friends with one another, or do you get angry and quarrel, and

then cry and make it up, and then start quarreling again on the

next occasion?”

 

“No, Clara is always kind to me,” answered Heidi.

 

“And Heidi,” put in Clara quickly, “has not once tried to

quarrel.”

 

“That’s all right, I am glad to hear it,” said her father, as he

rose from his chair. “But you must excuse me, Clara, for I want

my dinner; I have had nothing to eat all day. Afterwards I will

show you all the things I have brought home with me.”

 

He found Fraulein Rottenmeier in the dining-room superintending

the preparation for his meal, and when he had taken his place

she sat down opposite to him, looking the every embodiment of bad

news, so that he turned to her and said, “What am I to expect,

Fraulein Rottenmeier? You greet me with an expression of

countenance that quite frightens me. What is the matter? Clara

seems cheerful enough.”

 

“Herr Sesemann,” began the lady in a solemn voice, “it is a

matter which concerns Clara; we have been frightfully imposed

upon.”

 

“Indeed, in what way?” asked Herr Sesemann as he went on calmly

drinking his wine.

 

“We had decided, as you remember, to get a companion for Clara,

and as I knew how anxious you were to have only those who were

well-behaved and nicely brought up about her, I thought I would

look for a little Swiss girl, as I hoped to find such a one as I

have often read about, who, born as it were of the mountain air,

lives and moves without touching the earth.”

 

“Still I think even a Swiss child would have to touch the earth

if she wanted to go anywhere,” remarked Herr Sesemann,

“otherwise they would have been given wings instead of feet.”

 

“Ah, Herr Sesemann, you know what I mean,” continued Fraulein

Rottenmeier. “I mean one so at home among the living creatures

of the high, pure mountain regions, that she would be like some

idealistic being from another world among us.”

 

“And what could Clara do with such an idealistic being as you

describe, Fraulein Rottenmeier.”

 

“I am not joking, Herr Sesemann, the matter is a more serious

one than you think; I have been shockingly, disgracefully imposed

upon.”

 

“But how? what is there shocking and disgraceful? I see nothing

shocking in the child,” remarked Herr Sesemann quietly.

 

“If you only knew of one thing she has done, if you only knew of

the kind of people and animals she has brought into the house

during your absence! The tutor can tell you more about that.”

 

“Animals? what am I to understand by animals, Fraulein

Rottenmeier?”

 

“It is past understanding; the whole behavior of the child would

be past understanding, if it were not that at times she is

evidently not in her right mind.”

 

Herr Sesemann had attached very little importance to what was

told him up till now—but not in her right mind! that was more

serious and might be prejudicial to his own child. Herr Sesemann

looked very narrowly at the lady opposite to assure himself that

the mental aberration was not on her side. At that moment the

door opened and the tutor was announced.

 

“Ah! here is some one,” exclaimed Herr Sesemann, “who will help

to clear up matters for me. Take a seat,” he continued, as he

held out his hand to the tutor. “You will drink a cup of coffee

with me—no ceremony, I pray! And now tell me, what is the

matter with this child that has come to be a companion to my

daughter? What is this strange thing I hear about her bringing

animals into the house, and is she in her right senses?”

 

The tutor felt he must begin with expressing his pleasure at

Herr Sesemann’s return, and with explaining that he had come in

on purpose to give him welcome, but Herr Sesemann begged him to

explain without delay the meaning of all he had heard about

Heidi. The tutor started in his usual style. “If I must give my

opinion about this little girl, I should like first to state

that, if on one side, there is a lack of development which has

been caused by the more or less careless way in which she has

been brought up, or rather, by the neglect of her education,

when young, and by the solitary life she has led on the mountain,

which is not wholly to be condemned; on the contrary, such a

life has undoubtedly some advantages in it, if not allowed to

overstep a certain limit of time—”

 

“My good friend,” interrupted Herr Sesemann, “you are giving

yourself more trouble than you need. I only want to know if the

child has caused you alarm by any animals she has brought into

the house, and what your opinion is altogether as to her being a

fit companion or not for my daughter?”

 

“I should not like in any way to prejudice you against her,”

began the tutor once more; “for if on the one hand there is a

certain inexperience of the ways of society, owing to the

uncivilised life she led up to the time of her removal to

Frankfurt, on the other hand she is endowed with certain good

qualities, and, taken on the whole—”

 

“Excuse me, my dear sir, do not disturb yourself, but I must—I

think my daughter will be wanting me,” and with that Herr

Sesemann quickly left the room and took care not to return. He

sat himself down beside his daughter in the study, and then

turning to Heidi, who had risen, “Little one, will you fetch

me,” he began, and then paused, for he could not think what to

ask for, but he wanted to get the child out of the room for a

little while, “fetch me a glass of water.”

 

“Fresh water?” asked Heidi.

 

“Yes—Yes—as fresh as you can get it,” he answered. Heidi

disappeared on the spot.

 

“And now, my dear little Clara,” he said, drawing his chair

nearer and laying her hand in his, “answer my questions clearly

and intelligibly: what kind of animals has your little companion

brought into the house, and why does Fraulein Rottenmeier think

that she is not always in her right mind?”

 

Clara had no difficulty in answering. The alarmed lady had

spoken to her also about Heidi’s wild manner of talking, but

Clara had not been able to put a meaning to it. She told her

father everything about the tortoise and the kittens, and

explained to him what Heidi had said the day Fraulein Rottenmeier

had been put in such a fright. Herr Sesemann laughed heartily at

her recital. “So you do not want me to send the child home

again,” he asked, “you are not tired of having her here?”

 

“Oh, no, no,” Clara exclaimed, “please do not send her away.

Time has passed much more quickly since Heidi was here, for

something fresh happens every day, and it used to be so dull, and

she has always so much to tell me.”

 

“That’s all right then—and here comes your little friend. Have

you brought me some nice fresh water?” he asked as Heidi handed

him a glass.

 

“Yes, fresh from the pump,” answered Heidi.

 

“You did not go yourself to the pump?” said Clara.

 

“Yes I did; it is quite fresh. I had to go a long way, for there

were such a lot of people at the first pump; so I went further

down the street, but there were just as many at the second pump,

but I was able to get some water at the one in the next street,

and the gentleman with the white hair asked me to give his kind

regards to Herr Sesemann.”

 

“You have had quite a successful expedition,” said Herr Sesemann

laughing, “and who was the gentleman?”

 

“He was passing, and when he saw me he stood still and said, ‘As

you have a glass will you give me a drink; to whom are you

taking the water?’ and when I said, ‘To Herr Sesemann,’ he

laughed very much, and then he gave me that message for you, and

also said he hoped you would enjoy the water.”

 

“Oh, and who was it, I wonder, who sent me such good wishes—

tell me what he was like,” said Herr Sesemann.

 

“He was kind and laughed, and he had a thick gold chain and a

gold thing hanging from it with a large red stone, and a horse’s

head at the top of his stick.”

 

“It’s the doctor—my old friend the doctor,” exclaimed Clara and

her father at the same moment, and Herr Sesemann smiled to

himself at the thought of what his friend’s opinion must have

been of this new way of satisfying his thirst for water.

 

That evening when Herr Sesemann and Fraulein Rottenmeier were

alone, settling the household affairs, he informed her that he

intended to keep Heidi; he found the child in a perfectly right

state of mind, and his daughter liked her as a companion. “I

desire, therefore,” he continued, laying stress upon his words,

“that the child shall be in every way kindly treated, and that

her peculiarities shall not be looked upon as crimes. If you

find her too much for you alone, I can hold out a prospect of

help, for I am shortly expecting my mother here on a long visit,

and she, as you know, can get on with anybody, whatever they may

be like.”

 

“O yes, I know,” replied Fraulein Rottenmeier, but there was no

tone of relief in her voice as she thought of the coming help.

 

Herr Sesemann was only home for a short time; he left for Paris

again before the fortnight was over, comforting Clara, who could

not bear that he should go from her again so soon,