Later, when they were all sitting outside the hut after a pleasant meal, Clara took her father’s hand and said, ‘Oh, Papa, if you only knew all that Uncle Alp has done for me! I shall never forget it. And I keep thinking, what could I ever do for him that would give him even half as much pleasure as he has given me?’
‘I should like to know that too,’ her father replied, turning to their host, who was engaged in lively conversation with Grandmamma. He put out his hand and grasped Uncle Alp’s large rough one warmly. ‘Dear friend,’ he said, ‘let us have a quiet word together. You will know what I mean when I say that for years I have never known real happiness. What were all my money and success worth, if they could not make my poor little daughter well? Now, with God’s help, you have given us both something to live for. That can never be repaid, but tell me if there is any way in which I may show my gratitude. I will do anything that is in my power: only tell me what it shall be.’
Uncle Alp listened quietly, smiling at the happiness he saw in the other’s face, then with simple dignity he replied, ‘I have a share too in your joy at your daughter’s recovery. In that lies my reward. Thank you all the same for what you have said, but I want nothing. So long as I live there will be enough for me and for Heidi. There is only one thing I wish for. If you could give me that, I should have no cares left.’
‘Tell me then what that wish is,’ said Mr Sesemann.
‘I am old,’ Uncle Alp began. ‘I cannot expect to live much longer, and I shall have nothing to leave the child when I die. She has no one but me in the wide world except that one who has taken so little care of her. If you could promise me that Heidi need never have to go and earn her living among strangers — that would richly reward me for what I have been able to do for you and your daughter.’
‘That is something you need not even ask,’ Mr Sesemann returned quickly. ‘Heidi is already like one of my family. Ask my mother, or Clara: they will bear me out in that. We shall never allow her to be left to strangers. I promise you that. Here’s my hand on it. I will make provision for her during my life, and afterwards.
‘While she was with us, we saw how hard it was for her to live away from her own home, though she made good friends among us, as you know, and one of them is winding up his affairs in Frankfurt at this very moment. I mean our dear Dr Classen, of course. He intends to retire very soon, and to settle somewhere near you. He was so happy with you and Heidi last year. So, you see, in future, with you and him, Heidi will have two good friends at hand, and I hope you will both live for many years yet.’
‘Amen to that,’ cried Mrs Sesemann, shaking Uncle Alp warmly by the hand. Then she put her arm round Heidi and kissed her. ‘And now, my dear, what about you? Have you a wish to be granted?’ she asked.
‘Yes, I have,’ Heidi replied readily, looking up into her face.
‘I am glad. Tell me what it is.’
‘The bed I had in Frankfurt, with its three pillows and the warm quilt — I should like to have it for Grannie, so that she won’t have to lie with her head so low that she can hardly breathe, and she wouldn’t have to wear her beautiful shawl in bed, either, to keep her from freezing.’
In her eagerness, Heidi hardly paused for breath. ‘What a good child you are!’ said Mrs Sesemann. ‘It’s easy, in our own happiness, to forget those who are not so well off. It shall be done. I will telegraph to Frankfurt at once and Rottenmeier shall pack up the bed and send it off. It ought to be here then in a day or two, and I hope Grannie will find it very comfortable.’
Heidi skipped with delight, and cried:
‘I must just run down and tell her. I haven’t seen her for so long, she’ll be wondering what’s happened to me.’
‘Heidi,’ said her grandfather, gently reproving, ‘what are you thinking of? You can’t run off like that while we have company.’ But Mrs Sesemann stopped him.
‘The child’s right,’ she said. ‘Poor Grannie’s been neglected lately because of us. Let us all go down together to see her. I can wait for my horse there, and I’ll send off the telegram from Dörfli. What do you say, my son?’
Mr Sesemann had not yet had a chance to speak of his own plans, so he began now to explain them. He had thought of spending a little time in Switzerland with his mother, taking Clara with them for at least part of the time, if she was well enough. Now it looked as though he might have his daughter’s company for the whole trip, and in that case, it would be the greatest pity to miss any of these last lovely days of summer. He thought therefore of spending the night in Dörfli, and fetching Clara next day. They would go then to Ragaz where they would meet Grandmamma, and from there start their little holiday. At first Clara was a little upset at the prospect of leaving the mountain so soon, but she had so much that was new to look forward to, that she could not feel unhappy for long.
Taking Heidi’s hand, Mrs Sesemann was preparing to lead the way down to the goatherd’s cottage, when a thought struck her, and she turned back. ‘But how will Clara manage?’ she asked. Uncle Alp smiled and picked the child up in his arms as he had so often done before, and like that they set off. On the way, Heidi told Mrs Sesemann a great deal about Grannie, how much she felt the cold in winter and that she had not always enough to eat, and Mrs Sesemann listened thoughtfully to all she had to say.
Bridget was hanging Peter’s spare shirt out to dry as they approached the cottage, and when she saw them, she hurried indoors to tell her mother. ‘They’re all coming down the mountain,’ she announced. ‘Going home evidently, and Uncle Alp is carrying the invalid girl.’
‘Oh dear,’ sighed Grannie. ‘Are they taking Heidi with them? I wish she’d come in, just for a moment. I’d like to hear her voice once more.’ And then the door was flung open and Heidi bounced into the room and threw her arms round the old woman.
‘Grannie, Grannie,’ she cried, ‘what do you think? My bed is coming from Frankfurt for you with three big pillows and a warm quilt! And Grandmamma says it will be here in a few days.’ She expected to see Grannie’s face light up at this news, but saw instead only a sad little smile.
‘She’s very kind. I ought to be glad you’re going with her, but I think I shall die without you.’
‘What’s that I hear?’ cried Mrs Sesemann, coming in and speaking in her usual kind tone. ‘No, there’s no question of that. Heidi’s going to stay here with you. We know what a comfort she is to you. We shall want to see her too, of course, but we shall come to her. We shall come every year to the mountains to give thanks for our child’s wonderful recovery.’
At that Grannie’s face lit up, and she pressed Mrs Sesemann’s hand, quite speechless with gratitude. Heidi hugged her again. ‘Hasn’t everything turned out finely?’ she cried.
‘Oh yes, child, I did not know there were such good people in the world. It renews my faith in God to have them bother about a poor old thing like me.’
‘We are all poor in the sight of God,’ Mrs Sesemann reminded her. ‘We all need His care. And now we must say goodbye for the present but, as I say, we shall be back next year, and you may be sure we shan’t forget to come and see you then.’ She shook hands warmly, while Grannie thanked her again and again and called down blessings on her and her family.
The older Sesemanns then went on to Dörfli while
Uncle took the girls back to the hut.
Clara could not help crying a little next morning when it came to leaving, but Heidi did her best to console her. ‘Summer will soon come round again,’ she told her, ‘and you’ll come back, and then you’ll be walking right from the beginning. That will be much more fun, and we shall be able to go up to the pasture every day and see the flowers.’