WICKED PETER AND THE UNLUCKY CHAIR
Uncle went out early the next morning to see what kind of a day it was
going to be. There was a reddish gold light over the higher peaks; a
light breeze was springing up and the branches of the fir trees moved
gently to and fro--the sun was on its way.
He wheeled the chair out of the shed ready for the coming journey, and
then went in to call the children and tell them what a lovely sunrise
it was.
Peter came up the mountain at this moment. The goats did not gather
round him so trustfully as usual, but seemed to avoid him timidly, for
he had reached a high pitch of anger and bitterness, and was using
his stick very unnecessarily, and where it fell the blow was no light
one. For weeks now he had not had Heidi all to himself as formerly.
When he came up in the morning the invalid child was always already
in her chair and Heidi fully occupied with her. And it was the same
thing over again when he came down in the evening. She had not come
out with the goats once this summer, and today she was only coming in
company with her friend and the chair, and would stick by the latter's
side the whole time. It was the thought of this which was making him
particularly cross this morning. There stood the chair on its high
wheels. Peter glared at it as at an enemy that had done him harm and
was likely to do him still more today. He glanced round--there was
no sound anywhere, no one to see him. He sprang forward like a wild
creature, caught hold of the chair, and gave it a violent and angry
push in the direction of the slope. It rolled swiftly forward and in
another minute had disappeared.
[Illustration]
Peter now sped up the mountain as if on wings, not pausing till he was
well hidden behind a large blackberry bush, for he had no wish to be
seen by Uncle. But he was anxious to see what had become of the chair,
so he looked, and there he saw his enemy running faster and faster down
hill, then it turned head over heels several times, and finally, after
one great bound, rolled over and over to its complete destruction.
The pieces flew in every direction--feet, arms, and torn fragments of
the padded seat and bolster--and Peter experienced a feeling of such
unbounded delight at the sight that he leapt in the air, laughing aloud
and stamping for joy. He could see only good results for himself in
the disaster to his enemy. Now Heidi's friend would be obliged to
go away, for she would have no means of going about, and when Heidi
was alone again she would come out with him as in the old days, and
everything would go on in the proper way. But Peter did not consider,
or did not know, that when we do a wrong thing trouble is sure to
follow.
Heidi now came running out of the hut and round the shed. Grandfather
was behind with Clara in his arms. The shed stood wide open, the two
loose planks having been taken down, and it was quite light inside.
Heidi looked into every corner and ran from one end to the other, and
then stood still wondering what could have happened to the chair.
Grandfather now came up.
"How is this, have you wheeled the chair away, Heidi?"
"I have been looking everywhere for it, Grandfather; you said it was
standing ready outside," and she again searched each corner of the shed
with her eyes.
At that moment the wind, which had risen suddenly, blew open the shed
door and sent it banging back against the wall.
"It must have been the wind, Grandfather," exclaimed Heidi, and her
eyes grew anxious at this sudden discovery. "Oh! if it has blown the
chair all the way down to Doerfli we shall not get it back in time, and
shall not be able to go."
"If it has rolled as far as that it will never come back, for it is in
a hundred pieces by now," said the grandfather, going round the corner
and looking down. "But it's a curious thing to have happened!" he added
as he thought over the matter, for the chair would have had to turn a
corner before starting down hill.
"Oh, I am sorry," lamented Clara, "for we shall not be able to go
today, or perhaps any other day. I shall have to go home, I suppose, if
I have no chair. Oh, I am so sorry, I am so sorry!"
But Heidi looked towards her grandfather with her usual expression of
confidence.
"Grandfather, you will be able to do something, won't you, so that it
need not be as Clara says, and so that she is not obliged to go home."
"Well, for the present we will go up the mountain as we had arranged,
and then later on we will see what can be done," he answered, much to
the children's delight.
He went indoors, carried out a pile of shawls, and laying them on the
sunniest spot he could find set Clara down upon them. Then he brought
the children's morning milk and led out his two goats.
"Why is Peter not here yet," thought Uncle to himself, for Peter's
whistle had not been sounded that morning. The grandfather then took
Clara up on one arm, and the shawls on the other.
"Now then we will start," he said, "the goats can come with us."
Heidi was pleased at this and walked on after her grandfather with an
arm over either of the goats' necks, and the animals were so overjoyed
to have her again that they nearly squeezed her flat between them out
of sheer affection. When they reached the spot where the goats usually
pastured they were surprised to find them already feeding there,
climbing about the rocks, and Peter with them, lying his full length on
the ground.
"I'll teach you another time to go by like that, you lazy rascal! What
do you mean by it?" Uncle called to him.
Peter, recognizing the voice, jumped up like a shot. "No one was up,"
he answered.
"Have you seen anything of the chair?" asked the grandfather.
"Of what chair?" called Peter back in answer in a morose tone of voice.
Uncle said no more. He spread the shawls on the sunny slope, and
setting Clara upon them asked if she was comfortable.
"As comfortable as in my chair," she said, thanking him, "and this
seems the most beautiful spot. O Heidi, it is lovely, it is lovely!"
she cried, looking round her with delight.
The grandfather prepared to leave them. They would now be safe and
happy together he said, and when it was time for dinner Heidi was to go
and bring the bag from the shady hollow where he had put it; Peter was
to get them as much milk as they wanted, but Heidi was to see that it
was Little Swan's milk. He would come for them towards evening; he must
now be off to see after the chair and find out what had become of it.
The sky was dark blue, and not a single cloud was to be seen from one
horizon to the other. The great snowfield overhead sparkled as if set
with thousands and thousands of gold and silver stars. Now and again
a young goat came and lay down beside them; Snowflake came oftenest,
putting her little head down near Heidi, and only moving because
another goat came and drove her away. And the goats had also grown
familiar with Clara and would rub their heads against her shoulder,
which was always a sign of acquaintanceship and goodwill.
Some hours went by, and Heidi began to think that she might just go
over to the spot where all the flowers grew to see if they were fully
blown and looking as lovely as the year before. Clara could not go
until grandfather came back that evening, when the flowers probably
would be already closed. The longing to go became stronger and
stronger, till Heidi felt she could not resist it.
"Would you think me unkind, Clara," she said rather hesitatingly, "if
I left you for a few minutes? I could run there and back very quickly.
I want so to see how the flowers are looking--but wait--" for an idea
had come into Heidi's head. She ran and picked a bunch or two of green
leaves, and then took hold of Snowflake and led her up to Clara.
[Illustration]
"There, now you will not be alone," said Heidi, giving the goat a
little push to show her she was to lie down near Clara, which the
animal quite understood. Heidi threw the leaves into Clara's lap,
and the latter told her friend to go at once to look at the flowers
as she was quite happy to be left with the goat; she liked this new
experience. Heidi ran off, and Clara began to hold out the leaves one
by one to Snowflake, who snuggled up to her new friend in a confiding
manner and slowly ate the leaves from her hand. She found a strange
new pleasure in sitting all alone like this on the mountain side, her
only companion a little goat that looked to her for protection. She
suddenly felt a great desire to be her own mistress and to be able to
help others, instead of herself being always dependent as she was now.
Many thoughts, unknown to her before, came crowding into her mind, and
a longing to go on living in the sunshine, and to be doing something
that would bring happiness to another, as now she was helping to make
the goat happy. An unaccustomed feeling of joy took possession of her,
as if everything she had ever known or felt became all at once more
beautiful, and she seemed to see all things in a new light, and so
strong was the sense of this new beauty and happiness that she threw
her arms round the little goat's neck, and exclaimed, "O Snowflake, how
delightful it is up here! if only I could stay on for ever with you
beside me!"
Heidi had meanwhile reached her field of flowers, and as she caught
sight of it she uttered a cry of joy. The whole ground in front of her
was a mass of shimmering gold, where the cistus flowers spread their
yellow blossoms. Above them waved whole bushes of the deep blue-bell
flowers. Heidi stood and gazed and drew in the delicious air. Suddenly
she turned round and reached Clara's side out of breath with running
and excitement. "Oh, you must come," she called out as soon as she came
in sight, "it is more beautiful than you can imagine, and perhaps this
evening it may not be so lovely. I believe I could carry you, don't you
think I could?"
Clara looked at her and shook her head. "Why, Heidi, what can you be
thinking of! you are smaller than I am. Oh, if only I could walk!"
Heidi looked round as if in search of something, some new idea had
evidently come into her head. Peter was sitting up above looking down
on the two children. He had been sitting and staring before him in
the same way for hours, as if he could not make out what he saw. He
had destroyed the chair so that the friend might not be able to move
anywhere and that her visit might come to an end, and then a little
while after she had appeared right up here under his very nose with
Heidi beside her. He thought his eyes must deceive him, and yet there
she was and no mistake about it.
Heidi looked up to where he was sitting and called out in a commanding
voice, "Peter, come down here!"
"I don't wish to come," he called in reply.
"But you must; I cannot do it alone, and you must come here and help
me; make haste and come down," she called again in an urgent voice.
"I shall do nothing of the kind," was the answer.
Heidi ran some way up the slope towards him, and then pausing called
again, her eyes ablaze with anger, "If you don't come at once, Peter, I
will do something to you that you won't like; I mean what I say."
Peter felt an inward throe at these words, and a great fear seized him.
He had done something wicked which he wanted no one to know about,
and so far he had thought himself safe. But now Heidi spoke exactly
as if she knew everything, and whatever she did know she would tell
her grandfather, and there was no one he feared so much as this latter
person. Supposing he were to suspect what had happened about the chair!
Peter's anguish of mind grew more acute. He stood up and went down to
where Heidi was awaiting him.
"I am coming, and you won't do what you said."
Peter appeared now so submissive with fear that Heidi felt quite sorry
for him and answered assuringly, "No, no, of course not; come along
with me, there is nothing to be afraid of in what I want you to do."
As soon as they got to Clara, Heidi gave her orders: Peter was to
take hold of her under the arms on one side and she on the other, and
together they were to lift her up. This first movement was successfully
carried through, but then came the difficulty. As Clara could not even
stand, how were they to support her and get her along? Heidi was too
small for her arm to serve Clara to lean upon.
"You must put one arm well round my neck--so, and put the other through
Peter's and lean firmly upon it, then we shall be able to carry you."
Peter, however, had never given his arm to any one in his life. Clara
put hers in his, but he kept his own hanging down straight beside him
like a stick.
"That's not the way, Peter," said Heidi in an authoritative voice. "You
must put your arm out in the shape of a ring, and Clara must put hers
through it and lean her weight upon you, and whatever you do, don't let
your arm give way; like that I am sure we shall be able to manage."
Peter did as he was told, but still they did not get on very well.
Clara was not such a light weight, and the team did not match very well
in size; it was up one side and down the other, so that the supports
were rather wabbly.
Clara tried to use her own feet a little, but each time drew them
quickly back.
"Put your foot down firmly once," suggested Heidi, "I am sure it will
hurt you less after that."
"Do you think so," said Clara hesitatingly, but she followed Heidi's
advice and ventured one firm step on the ground and then another; she
called out a little as she did it; then she lifted her foot again and
went on, "Oh, that was less painful already," she exclaimed joyfully.
[Illustration: THE LITTLE INVALID FINDS THAT SHE IS ABLE TO WALK]
"Try again," said Heidi encouragingly.
And Clara went on putting one foot out after another until all at once
she called out, "I can do it, Heidi! look! look! I can make proper
steps!"
And Heidi cried out with even greater delight, "Can you really make
steps, can you really walk? really walk by yourself? Oh, if only
grandfather were here!" and she continued gleefully to exclaim, "You
can walk now, Clara, you can walk!"
Clara still held on firmly to her supports, but with every step she
felt safer on her feet, as all three became aware, and Heidi was beside
herself with joy.
"Now we shall be able to come up here together every day, and just go
where we like; and you will be able to walk about as I do, and not have
to be pushed in a chair, and will get quite strong and well. It is the
greatest happiness we could have had!"
And Clara heartily agreed, for she could think of no greater joy in the
world than to be strong and able to go about like other people, and no
longer to have to lie from day to day in her invalid chair.
They had not far to go to reach the field of flowers, and could already
catch sight of the cistus flowers' glowing gold in the sun. As they
came to the bushes of the blue-bell flowers, with sunny, inviting
patches of warm ground between them, Clara said, "Can't we sit down
here for a while?"
This was just what Heidi enjoyed, and so the children sat down in
the midst of the flowers, Clara for the first time on the dry, warm
mountain grass, and she found it indescribably delightful. Everything
was so lovely! so lovely! And Heidi, who was beside her, thought she
had never seen it so perfectly beautiful up here before. Then she
suddenly remembered that Clara was cured; that was the crowning
delight of all that made life so delightful in the midst of all this
surrounding beauty. Clara sat silent, overcome with the enchantment
of all that her eye rested upon, and with the anticipation of all the
happiness that was now before her. There seemed hardly room in her
heart for all her joyful emotions.
Peter also lay among the flowers without moving or speaking, for he
was fast asleep. The breeze came blowing softly and caressingly from
behind the sheltering rocks, and passed whisperingly through the bushes
overhead. Heidi got up now and then to run about, for the flowers
waving in the warm wind seemed to smell sweeter and to grow more
thickly whichever way she went. So the hours went by.
It was long past noon when a small troop of goats advanced solemnly
towards the plain of flowers. It was not a feeding place of theirs,
for they did not care to graze on flowers. They looked like an embassy
arriving, with Greenfinch as their leader. They had evidently come in
search of their companions who had left them in the lurch, and who
had remained away so long, for the goats could tell the time without
mistake. As soon as Greenfinch caught sight of the three missing
friends amid the flowers she set up an extra loud bleat, whereupon all
the others joined in a chorus of bleats, and the whole company came
trotting towards the children. Peter woke up, rubbing his eyes, for he
had been dreaming that he saw the chair again with its beautiful red
padding standing whole and uninjured before the grandfather's door.
He experienced again the dreadful fear of mind that he had lost in
this dream of the uninjured chair. Even though Heidi had promised not
to do anything, there still remained the lively dread that his deed
might be found out in some other way. He allowed Heidi to do what she
liked with him, for he was reduced to such a state of low spirits and
meekness that he was ready to give his help to Clara without murmur or
resistance.
When all three had got back to their old quarters Heidi ran and brought
forward the bag, and proceeded to fulfill her promise, for her threat
of the morning had been concerned with Peter's dinner. She had seen her
grandfather putting in all sorts of good things, and had been pleased
to think of Peter having a large share of them, and she had meant
him to understand when he refused at first to help her that he would
get nothing for his dinner, but Peter's conscience had put another
interpretation upon her words. Heidi took the food out of the bag and
divided it into three portions, and each was of such a goodly size that
she thought to herself, "There will be plenty of ours left for him to
have more still."
She gave the other two their dinners and sat down with her own beside
Clara, and they all three ate with a good appetite after their great
exertions.
Peter ate up every bit of food to the last crumb, but there was
something wanting to his usual enjoyment of a good dinner, for every
mouthful he swallowed seemed to choke him, and he felt something
gnawing inside him.
They were so late at their dinner that they had not long to wait
after they had finished before grandfather came up to get them. Heidi
rushed forward to meet him as soon as he appeared, as she wanted to
be the first to tell him the good news. She was so excited that she
could hardly get her words out when she did get up to him, but he soon
understood, and a look of extreme pleasure came into his face. He
hastened up to where Clara was sitting and said with a cheerful smile,
"So, we've made the effort, have we, and won the day!"
[Illustration: "WE MUST NOT OVERDO IT," HE SAID, TAKING CLARA IN HIS
ARMS]
Then he lifted her up, and putting his left arm behind her and giving
her his right to lean upon, made her walk a little way, which she did
with less trembling and hesitation than before, now that she had such a
strong arm round her.
Heidi skipped along beside her in glee, and the grandfather looked too
as if some happiness had befallen him. "We must not overdo it," he
said taking Clara up in his arms. "It is high time we went home," and
he started off down the mountain path, for he was anxious to get her
indoors that she might rest after her unusual fatigue.
When Peter got to Doerfli that evening he found a large group of people
collected round a certain spot, pushing one another and looking over
each other's shoulders in their eagerness to catch sight of something
lying on the ground. Peter thought he should like to see too, and poked
and elbowed till he made his way through.
There it lay, the thing he had wanted to see. Scattered about the grass
were the remains of Clara's chair; part of the back and the middle
bit, and enough of the red padding and the bright nails to show how
magnificent the chair had been when it was entire.
"I was here when the men passed carrying it up," said the baker, who
was standing near Peter. "I'll bet any one that it was worth 125
dollars at least. I cannot think how such an accident could have
happened."
"Uncle said the wind might perhaps have done it," remarked one of the
women.
"It's a good job that no one but the wind did it," said the baker
again, "or he might smart for it! No doubt the gentleman in Frankfurt
when he hears what has happened will make inquiries about it. I am glad
for myself that I have not been seen up the mountain for a good two
years, as suspicion is likely to fall on any one who was up there at
the time."
Many more opinions were passed on the matter, but Peter had heard
enough. He crept quietly away out of the crowd and then took to his
heels and ran up home as fast as he could, as if he thought some
one was after him. The baker's words had filled him with fear and
trembling. He was sure now that any day a constable might come over
from Frankfurt and inquire about the destruction of the chair, and then
everything would come out, and he would be seized and carried off to
Frankfurt and there put in prison.
He reached home in this disturbed state of mind. He would not open his
mouth in reply to anything that was said to him; he would not eat his
potatoes; all he did was to creep off to bed as quickly as possible and
hide under the bedclothes and groan.
"Peter has been eating sorrel again, and is evidently in pain by the
way he is groaning," said his mother.
"You must give him a little more bread to take with him; give him a bit
of mine tomorrow," said the grandmother sympathizingly.
As the children lay that night in bed looking out at the stars Heidi
said, "I have been thinking all day what a happy thing it is that God
does not give us what we ask for, even when we pray and pray and pray,
if He knows there is something better for us; have you felt like that?"
"Why do you ask me that tonight all of a sudden?" asked Clara.
"Because I prayed so hard when I was in Frankfurt that I might go home
at once, and because I was not allowed to I thought God had forgotten
me. And now you see, if I had come away at first when I wanted to, you
would never have come here, and would never have got well."
Clara had in her turn become thoughtful. "But, Heidi," she began again,
"in that case we ought never to pray for anything, as God always
intends something better for us than we know or wish for."
"You must not think it is like that, Clara," replied Heidi eagerly.
"We must go on praying for everything, so that God may know we do not
forget that it all comes from Him. If we forget God, then He lets us go
our own way and we get into trouble."
"How did you learn all that?" asked Clara.
"Grandmamma explained it to me first of all, and then when it all
happened just as she said, I knew it myself, and I think, Clara," she
went on, as she sat up in bed, "we ought certainly to thank God tonight
that you can walk now, and that He has made us so happy."
"Yes, Heidi, I am sure you are right, and I am glad you reminded me; I
almost forgot my prayers for very joy."
Both children said their prayers, and each thanked God in her own way
for the blessing He had bestowed on Clara, who had for so long lain
weak and ill.
The next morning the grandfather suggested that they should now write
to the grandmamma and ask her if she would not come and pay them a
visit, as they had something new to show her. But the children had
another plan in their heads, for they wanted to prepare a great
surprise for grandmamma. Clara was first to have more practice in
walking so that she might be able to go a little way by herself; above
all things grandmamma was not to have a hint of it. They asked the
grandfather how long he thought this would take, and when he told them
about a week or less, they immediately sat down and wrote a pressing
invitation to grandmamma, asking her to come soon, but no word was said
about there being anything new to see.
The following days were some of the most joyous that Clara had spent
on the mountain. She awoke each morning with a happy voice within her
crying, "I am well now! I am well now! I shan't have to go about in a
chair, I can walk by myself like other people."
Then came the walking, and every day she found it easier and was able
to go a longer distance. The movement gave her such an appetite that
the grandfather cut his bread and butter a little thicker each day,
and was well pleased to see it disappear. He brought out the foaming
milk in a larger jug so he could fill the little bowls over and over
again. And so another week went by and the day came which was to bring
grandmamma up the mountain for her second visit.