‘You are a funny child. As a matter of fact, you’ve been brought to Frankfurt expressly to keep me company and have lessons with me. We might have some fun too, as you can’t even read. Lessons are often very dull. Mr Usher, that’s my tutor, comes every day from ten to two, and it’s such a long time. Sometimes he puts the book right up to his face, as though he were dreadfully short‐sighted, but I know he’s only yawning behind it. Then Miss Rottenmeier takes out a handkerchief and holds it up to her face, as though she were crying, but really she’s yawning too. That makes me want to yawn, and I have to stifle it because if I yawned she’d be sure to say I must be feeling poorly, and I’d have to take a dose of cod‐liver oil, which is the most horrible stuff imaginable. But now I shall be able to listen while you learn to read, and that’ll be much more amusing.’
Heidi shook her head doubtfully. ‘But of course you will learn to read — everyone has to,’ Clara went on quickly. ‘And Mr Usher is very kind. He never gets cross and he’ll explain everything to you. You probably won’t understand what he’s talking about at first, but don’t ever say so, or he’ll go on and on for ever, and you still won’t understand any better. Later on, when you’ve learnt a little, I expect you’ll see what he means all right.’
Miss Rottenmeier came back at this point. She had not been quick enough to catch Detie, and was very much put out, for she did not see how to get out of this awkward situation, for which she was really responsible as she had certainly agreed to Heidi’s being fetched. She walked about restlessly between the study and the dining‐room, and presently came upon Sebastian who had just finished setting the table and was looking it over to make sure he had not forgotten anything.
‘Finish your thinking some other time and see about serving the meal,’ she snapped, and then called, in a peremptory tone, for Tinette, who minced into the room with a very high and mighty expression on her face which made even Miss Rottenmeier swallow her anger, and she said as coolly as she could, ‘See that the room is prepared for the girl who has just come. Everything has been put ready, but it wants dusting.’
‘Oh certainly,’ retorted Tinette impudently, as she flounced out of the room.
Sebastian too was furious, but had not dared to answer back. He showed it by banging open the double doors leading from the dining‐room to the study. Then he slouched over to wheel Clara in to supper, and as he paused to manipulate the handle of the chair, he saw Heidi staring at him. This annoyed him still more, and he growled, ‘Well, what are you staring at?’
‘You look like Peter the goat boy,’ she replied. Miss Rottenmeier came back into the study just then, and held up her hands in disgust.
‘What a way to talk to the servants!’ she exclaimed. ‘She simply hasn’t an idea how to behave.’
Clara was wheeled up to the table, and Sebastian lifted her on to an armchair. Miss Rottenmeier sat beside her and motioned to Heidi to take the seat opposite. It was a big table just for the three of them and left plenty of room for Sebastian to stand beside each, as he handed the dishes. Beside Heidi’s plate lay a nice white roll, and her eyes lit up at sight of it. She did not take it, however, until Sebastian was offering her the dish of baked fish, then feeling she must be able to trust anyone who looked so like Peter, she said to him, ‘May I have this?’ and pointed to the roll.
Sebastian nodded and looked out of the corner of his eye to see how Miss Rottenmeier was taking it. When Heidi took up the roll and put it in her pocket, he hardly knew how to keep his face straight, but it would have been more than his place was worth to show amusement. He was not supposed to speak or to move until she had helped herself from the dish, so he continued to stand silently beside her, waiting. At length she looked up at him and said in a tone of surprise, ‘Am I to have some of that too?’
He nodded again, making a very odd face in his efforts to stifle his laughter.
‘Give me some then,’ said Heidi, looking down at her plate.
‘You can put the dish on the table and come back later,’ said the stern voice of Miss Rottenmeier, and Sebastian made for the door immediately.
‘I see I shall have to begin right at the beginning with you, Adelheid,’ that lady continued with a pained blink of the eyes. ‘Now, this is how you should help yourself at table,’ and she proceeded to show how it should be done. ‘And understand, you must never speak to Sebastian during a meal, except to give him an order or to ask for something. And you must never speak to any of the servants in that familiar way. You’ll address me as Ma’am, as you’ll hear everyone else do. As for Clara, it’s for her to say what you are to call her.’
‘Clara, of course,’ put in the invalid.
Miss Rottenmeier then held forth on how Heidi was to behave at every moment of the day, issuing instructions about getting up in the morning, and going to bed at night, about going out and coming in, about shutting doors, and keeping things tidy, and so on and on. In the middle of it all Heidi suddenly dropped off to sleep, for she had been up since five o’clock and travelling all day.
At last Miss Rottenmeier came to the end of her lecture, and said, ‘Now, Adelheid, do you understand what I’ve been saying?’
‘Heidi’s asleep,’ Clara remarked with a smile. It was a long time since she had known a meal pass so agreeably.
‘That child’s behaviour is really incredible,’ exclaimed
Miss Rottenmeier, much annoyed, and she rang the bell so violently that Sebastian and Tinette both came hurrying in, nearly knocking each other over. But the commotion did not wake Heidi, and it was quite difficult to rouse her sufficiently to take her to bed. The room which had been prepared for her was at the other end of the house and, to get to it, she had to go past the study, and past Clara’s bedroom and Miss Rottenmeier’s sitting‐room.
7
A Bad Day for Rottenmeier
Heidi awoke next morning and looked around her, quite forgetting all that had happened to her the day before. She couldn’t think where she was. She rubbed her eyes and looked again, but that made no difference. She was in a big room, in a high white bed. There were long white curtains in front of the windows and two big armchairs and a sofa, covered with some beautiful flowery material; there was a round table, and on a washstand in the corner stood a number of things that she had never seen before. All at once she remembered all that had happened to her overnight, particularly the instructions the tall lady had given her, so far, that is, as she had heard them.
She jumped out of bed and dressed quickly. Then she went first to one window, then to the other, and tried to pull back the curtains so that she could see what was outside. They were too heavy to pull so she crept behind them, but then the windows were so high that she could only just peep through them. And wherever she looked there was nothing to be seen but walls and windows. She began to feel rather frightened. At Grandfather’s she had always gone out of doors first thing in the morning to have a good look round, to see whether the sky was blue and the sun shining, and to say good morning to the trees and flowers. She ran from window to window frantically, trying to open them, like a wild bird in a cage, seeking a way through the bars to freedom. She felt sure that if she could see what was outside, she would find grass somewhere, green grass with the last snow just melting from it. But though she pushed and tugged and tried to put her little fingers under the frames, the windows stayed tight shut. After a while she gave up. ‘Perhaps if I went out of doors and round to the back of the house, I’d find some grass,’ she thought. ‘I know there were only stones in front.’