Heidi

‘Only milk? What about all the food in the bag?’ he asked in astonishment.

‘You can have it, as soon as you’ve got the milk.’

He had rarely done as he was asked so promptly. He was longing to know what had made the bag so heavy that morning, and as soon as Heidi had taken the milk, he opened it and peeped inside. When he saw the meat he could hardly believe his eyes. He was just taking hold of it, when he remembered how angrily he had shaken his fists at the doctor, for whom this treat had really been provided. He felt sorry about that, and it somehow held him back. So after a moment he jumped up and ran over to the place where he had stood before, stretched up his arms with hands open to show that he did not want to fight anyone any more, and he kept them like that until he felt he had made amends. Then back he went to his feast and began to eat with a clear conscience.

Heidi and the doctor went on up the mountain, talking as they went. After a while he told her that he was going back, but that she no doubt would like to stay a little longer with the goats. This she would not hear of, but insisted on accompanying him at least as far as the hut, perhaps even farther. So down they went, hand in hand, and on the way she showed him all the goats’ favourite grazing places and where the best flowers grew in summer. She could tell him the names of many, for her grandfather had taught her them. At last the doctor said she must go back, so they said goodbye and he went on alone. He looked back from time to time, and found her watching and waving to him, as his own dear daughter used to do when he went out.

The weather was fine and sunny all that month, and the doctor came up to the hut every morning, and from there went off on long walks, often with Uncle Alp as his companion. Together they climbed high up where the grand old fir trees were storm‐tossed, and higher still to where the hawk nested. They saw the great bird rise up, protesting, at their intrusion. The doctor found great pleasure in Uncle Alp’s society, and was constantly surprised at his wide knowledge of mountain plants and their uses. Uncle Alp showed him little crevices where, even at those heights, tiny plants grew and blossomed. He also knew a great deal about the wild life up there and had many good stories to tell about the creatures which lived in caves or holes in the ground or even in the branches of the trees. As the doctor took his leave after one of these expeditions, he said, ‘My friend, I learn something new every time I am with you.’

Several times, when the weather was particularly fine, the doctor went up to the pasture with Heidi, and they always rested at the same spot, while she chattered away or recited the verses she had learnt by heart. Peter never joined them, but he was quite resigned now to the loss of her company and no longer bore the doctor any ill will.

With the last day of September, the holiday came to an end. On the day before his return to Frankfurt, the doctor appeared at the hut looking rather sad. He was very sorry to go for he had felt at home on the mountains. Uncle Alp was going to miss him too, and Heidi had grown so accustomed to seeing him every day that she could hardly believe that those pleasant times were nearly over. After he and Uncle Alp had said goodbye, she went a little way down the mountain with him, but when he thought she had come far enough, the doctor stopped and gently stroked her hair.

‘Now I have to go, Heidi,’ he said, ‘but I wish I could take you back with me to Frankfurt.’

Heidi suddenly beheld, in her mind’s eye, that town with its many tall houses and cobbled streets, and thought of Miss Rottenmeier and Tinette. ‘It would be nicer if you came back to us,’ she said hesitantly.

‘Yes, you are right,’ he agreed, ‘quite right. Goodbye, my dear.’

As she gave him her hand, she thought there were tears in his kind eyes, then he turned quickly and hurried away. Heidi stood looking after him, feeling very miserable, and after a few moments ran pell‐mell after him, crying, ‘Doctor, doctor.’ He turned as he heard her, and when she reached him, she sobbed out:

‘I will come with you to Frankfurt and stay with you as long as you like, but I must go and tell Grandfather first.’

The doctor laid his hand on her shoulder to calm her. ‘No, no,’ he said, ‘you must stay here among the fir trees for the present, or I might have you ill again. But I tell you what, perhaps you’ll come and take care of me if I’m ever ill and lonely. I should like to think I could have someone who loves me to look after me then.’

‘Oh, yes, I’ll come at once, the moment you send for me,’ Heidi promised eagerly. ‘And I love you nearly as much as Grandfather.’

He thanked her and went on his way again, while she stood and waved till all she could see was a speck in the distance. As he turned for the last time to wave back, he thought to himself. ‘This is certainly a wonderful place for sick minds as well as bodies. Life seems really worth living again!’

18 Winter in Dörfli

The snow lay so deep on the mountain that winter, that Peter’s hut was buried in it up to the window sills. Fresh snow fell almost every night, so on most mornings he had to jump out of the living‐room window. If the frost in the night had not been enough to harden the surface, he stepped deep into soft snow and then had to battle his way out with feet and hands and even head. Then his mother handed him out a big broom, with which he cleared a path to the door. This had to be done skilfully, piling the snow well away from the entrance, so that there was no likelihood of a great mass of soft snow falling into the house when the door was opened. There was also the danger that hard frost might turn soft snow into a solid wall, and so barricade the door — and only Peter was small and agile enough to squeeze through the window.

But when it froze in the night, Peter had a grand time, for his mother used to hand him out his little sleigh, and on this he almost flew down to Dörfli — or wherever he had to go — for the whole mountainside became one wide, unbroken sleigh run.

Uncle Alp would have had to clear the snow from his hut just as carefully, but he had kept his promise and, as soon as the first snow fell, he took Heidi and the goats down to the village for the rest of the winter.

Near the church and the parsonage in Dörfli, there was a great rambling, ramshackle place, almost in ruins. It had once belonged to a soldier, who had fought bravely in Spain and acquired a considerable fortune. He had come back to Dörfli, meaning to settle down there for the rest of his life, and had built this great house, but alas, he had lost the taste for quiet living and soon went away and never returned. The house stood empty and uncared for. When he died many years later, it came into the hands of a distant relative in the valley, but by then it was in such a bad state that the new owner was not inclined to spend money on it. He let it to poor people for very little rent, but made no attempt to repair it. That was years before Uncle Alp had come to Dörfli with his son, and they had lived in it for a time. Then it stood empty again, with great holes and cracks in roof and walls, and in winter (always long and severe up there), the icy winds blew right through the place. Now, after Uncle Alp had made up his mind to pass the winter in Dörfli, he rented the old house again. Being handy with his tools, he knew he could make it habitable, and he went down often during the autumn to work on it, and in the middle of October he and Heidi went to live there.