Heidi (12 page)

"You see now, a child like you does not understand anything
about a view! Come along down and don't go ringing at my bell
again!"

He lifted her down and went on before her down the narrow
stairway. To the left of the turn where it grew wider stood the
door of the tower-keeper's room, and the landing ran out beside
it to the edge of the steep slanting roof. At the far end of
this was a large basket, in front of which sat a big grey cat,
that snarled as it saw them, for she wished to warn the passers-
by that they were not to meddle with her family. Heidi stood
still and looked at her in astonishment, for she had never seen
such a monster cat before; there were whole armies of mice,
however, in the old tower, so the cat had no difficulty in
catching half a dozen for her dinner every day. The old man
seeing Heidi so struck with admiration said, "She will not hurt
you while I am near; come, you can have a peep at the kittens."

Heidi went up to the basket and broke out into expressions of
delight.

"Oh, the sweet little things! the darling kittens," she kept on
saying, as she jumped from side to side of the basket so as, not
to lose any of the droll gambols of the seven or eight little
kittens that were scrambling and rolling and falling over one
another.

"Would you like to have one?" said the old man, who enjoyed
watching the child's pleasure.

"For myself to keep?" said Heidi excitedly, who could hardly
believe such happiness was to be hers.

"Yes, of course, more than one if you like—in short, you can
take away the whole lot if you have room for them," for the old
man was only too glad to think he could get rid of his kittens
without more trouble.

Heidi could hardly contain herself for joy. There would be
plenty of room for them in the large house, and then how
astonished and delighted Clara would be when she saw the sweet
little kittens.

"But how can I take them with me?" asked Heidi, and was going
quickly to see how many she could carry away in her hands, when
the old cat sprang at her so fiercely that she shrank back in
fear.

"I will take them for you if you will tell me where," said the
old man, stroking the cat to quiet her, for she was an old
friend of his that had lived with him in the tower for many
years.

"To Herr Sesemann's, the big house where there is a gold dog's
head on the door, with a ring in its mouth," explained Heidi.

Such full directions as these were not really needed by the old
man, who had had charge of the tower for many a long year and
knew every house far and near, and moreover Sebastian was an
acquaintance of his.

"I know the house," he said, "but when shall I bring them, and
who shall I ask for?—you are not one of the family, I am sure."

"No, but Clara will be so delighted when I take her the
kittens."

The old man wished now to go downstairs, but Heidi did not know
how to tear herself away from the amusing spectacle.

"If I could just take one or two away with me! one for myself
and one for Clara, may I?"

"Well, wait a moment," said the man, and he drew the cat
cautiously away into his room, and leaving her by a bowl of food
came out again and shut the door. "Now take two of them."

Heidi's eyes shone with delight. She picked up a white kitten
and another striped white and yellow, and put one in the right,
the other in the left pocket. Then she went downstairs. The boy
was still sitting outside on the steps, and as the old man shut
the door of the church behind them, she said, "Which is our way
to Herr Sesemann's house?"

"I don't know," was the answer.

Heidi began a description of the front door and the steps and
the windows, but the boy only shook his head, and was not any the
wiser.

"Well, look here," continued Heidi, "from one window you can see
a very, very large grey house, and the roof runs like this—"
and Heidi drew a zigzag line in the air with her forefinger.

With this the boy jumped up, he was evidently in the habit of
guiding himself by similar landmarks. He ran straight off with
Heidi after him, and in a very short time they had reached the
door with the large dog's head for the knocker. Heidi rang the
bell. Sebastian opened it quickly, and when he saw it was Heidi,
"Make haste! make haste," he cried in a hurried voice.

Heidi sprang hastily in and Sebastian shut the door after her,
leaving the boy, whom he had not noticed, standing in wonder on
the steps.

"Make haste, little miss," said Sebastian again; "go straight
into the dining-room, they are already at table; Fraulein
Rottenmeier looks like a loaded cannon. What could make the
little miss run off like that?"

Heidi walked into the room. The lady housekeeper did not look
up, Clara did not speak; there was an uncomfortable silence.
Sebastian pushed her chair up for her, and when she was seated
Fraulein Rottenmeier, with a severe countenance, sternly and
solemnly addressed her: "I will speak with you afterwards,
Adelheid, only this much will I now say, that you behaved in a
most unmannerly and reprehensible way by running out of the
house as you did, without asking permission, without any one
knowing a word about it; and then to go wandering about till this
hour; I never heard of such behavior before."

"Miau!" came the answer back.

This was too much for the lady's temper; with raised voice she
exclaimed, "You dare, Adelheid, after your bad behavior, to
answer me as if it were a joke?"

"I did not—" began Heidi—"Miau! miau!"

Sebastian almost dropped his dish and rushed out of the room.

"That will do," Fraulein Rottenmeier tried to say, but her voice
was almost stifled with anger. "Get up and leave the room."

Heidi stood up frightened, and again made an attempt to explain.
"I really did not—" "Miau! miau! miau!"

"But, Heidi," now put in Clara, "when you see that it makes
Fraulein Rottenmeier angry, why do you keep on saying miau?"

"It isn't I, it's the kittens," Heidi was at last given time to
say.

"How! what! kittens!" shrieked Fraulein Rottenmeier. "Sebastian!
Tinette! Find the horrid little things! take them away!" And she
rose and fled into the study and locked the door, so as to make
sure that she was safe from the kittens, which to her were the
most horrible things in creation.

Sebastian was obliged to wait a few minutes outside the door to
get over his laughter before he went into the room again. He
had, while serving Heidi, caught sight of a little kitten's head
peeping out of her pocket, and guessing the scene that would
follow, had been so overcome with amusement at the first miaus
that he had hardly been able to finish handing the dishes. The
lady's distressed cries for help had ceased before he had
sufficiently regained his composure to go back into the dining-
room. It was all peace and quietness there now, Clara had the
kittens on her lap, and Heidi was kneeling beside her, both
laughing and playing with the tiny, graceful little animals.

"Sebastian," exclaimed Clara as he came in, "you must help us;
you must find a bed for the kittens where Fraulein Rottenmeier
will not spy them out, for she is so afraid of them that she
will send them away at once; but we want to keep them, and have
them out whenever we are alone. Where can you put them?"

"I will see to that," answered Sebastian willingly. "I will make
a bed in a basket and put it in some place where the lady is not
likely to go; you leave it to me." He set about the work at
once, sniggling to himself the while, for he guessed there would
be a further rumpus about this some day, and Sebastian was not
without a certain pleasure in the thought of Fraulein Rottenmeier
being a little disturbed.

Not until some time had elapsed, and it was nearing the hour for
going to bed, did Fraulein Rottenmeier venture to open the door
a crack and call through, "Have you taken those dreadful little
animals away, Sebastian?"

He assured her twice that he had done so; he had been hanging
about the room in anticipation of this question, and now quickly
and quietly caught up the kittens from Clara's lap and
disappeared with them.

The castigatory sermon which Fraulein Rottenmeier had held in
reserve for Heidi was put off till the following day, as she
felt too exhausted now after all the emotions she had gone
through of irritation, anger, and fright, of which Heidi had
unconsciously been the cause. She retired without speaking, Clara
and Heidi following, happy in their minds at knowing that the
kittens were lying in a comfortable bed.

Sebastian had just shown the tutor into the study on the
following morning when there came another and very loud ring at
the bell, which Sebastian ran quickly to answer. "Only Herr
Sesemann rings like that," he said to himself; "he must have
returned home unexpectedly." He pulled open the door, and there
in front of him he saw a ragged little boy carrying a hand-organ
on his back.

"What's the meaning of this?" said Sebastian angrily. "I'll
teach you to ring bells like that! What do you want here?"

"I want to see Clara," the boy answered.

"You dirty, good-for-nothing little rascal, can't you be polite
enough to say 'Miss Clara'? What do you want with her?"
continued Sebastian roughly. "She owes me fourpence," explained
the boy.

"You must be out of your mind! And how do you know that any
young lady of that name lives here?"

"She owes me twopence for showing her the way there, and
twopence for showing her the way back."

"See what a pack of lies you are telling! The young lady never
goes out, cannot even walk; be off and get back to where you
came from, before I have to help you along."

But the boy was not to be frightened away; he remained standing,
and said in a determined voice, "But I saw her in the street,
and can describe her to you; she has short, curly black hair, and
black eyes, and wears a brown dress, and does not talk quite
like we do."

"Oho!" thought Sebastian, laughing to himself, "the little miss
has evidently been up to more mischief." Then, drawing the boy
inside he said aloud, "I understand now, come with me and wait
outside the door till I tell you to go in. Be sure you begin
playing your organ the instant you get inside the room; the lady
is very fond of music."

Sebastian knocked at the study door, and a voice said, "Come
in."

"There is a boy outside who says he must speak to Miss Clara
herself," Sebastian announced.

Clara was delighted at such an extraordinary and unexpected
message.

"Let him come in at once," replied Clara; "he must come in, must
he not," she added, turning to her tutor, "if he wishes so
particularly to see me?"

The boy was already inside the room, and according to
Sebastian's directions immediately began to play his organ.
Fraulein Rottenmeier, wishing to escape the A B C, had retired
with her work to the dining-room. All at once she stopped and
listened. Did those sounds come up from the street? And yet they
seemed so near! But how could there be an organ playing in the
study? And yet—it surely was so. She rushed to the other end of
the long dining-room and tore open the door. She could hardly
believe her eyes. There, in the middle of the study, stood a
ragged boy turning away at his organ in the most energetic
manner. The tutor appeared to be making efforts to speak, but his
voice could not be heard. Both children were listening
delightedly to the music.

"Leave off! leave off at once!" screamed Fraulein Rottenmeier.
But her voice was drowned by the music. She was making a dash
for the boy, when she saw something on the ground crawling
towards her feet—a dreadful dark object—a tortoise. At this
sight she jumped higher than she had for many long years before,
shrieking with all her might, "Sebastian! Sebastian!"

The organ-player suddenly stopped, for this time her voice had
risen louder than the music. Sebastian was standing outside bent
double with laughter, for he had been peeping to see what was
going on. By the time he entered the room Fraulein Rottenmeier
had sunk into a chair.

"Take them all out, boy and animal! Get them away at once!" she
commanded him.

Sebastian pulled the boy away, the latter having quickly caught
up the tortoise, and when he had got him outside he put
something into his hand. "There is the fourpence from Miss Clara,
and another fourpence for the music. You did it all quite right!"
and with that he shut the front door upon him.

Quietness reigned again in the study, and lessons began once
more; Fraulein Rottenmeier now took up her station in the study
in order by her presence to prevent any further dreadful goings-
on.

But soon another knock came to the door, and Sebastian again
stepped in, this time to say that some one had brought a large
basket with orders that it was to be given at once to Miss
Clara.

"For me?" said Clara in astonishment, her curiosity very much
excited, "bring it in at once that I may see what it is like."

Sebastian carried in a large covered basket and retired.

"I think the lessons had better be finished first before the
basket is unpacked," said Fraulein Rottenmeier.

Clara could not conceive what was in it, and cast longing
glances towards it. In the middle of one of her declensions she
suddenly broke off and said to the tutor, "Mayn't I just give one
peep inside to see what is in it before I go on?"

"On some considerations I am for it, on others against it," he
began in answer; "for it, on the ground that if your whole
attention is directed to the basket—" but the speech remained
unfinished. The cover of the basket was loose, and at this
moment one, two, three, and then two more, and again more kittens
came suddenly tumbling on to the floor and racing about the room
in every direction, and with such indescribable rapidity that it
seemed as if the whole room was full of them. They jumped over
the tutor's boots, bit at his trousers, climbed up Fraulein
Rottenmeier's dress, rolled about her feet, sprang up on to
Clara's couch, scratching, scrambling, and mewing: it was a sad
scene of confusion. Clara, meanwhile, pleased with their
gambols, kept on exclaiming, "Oh, the dear little things! how
pretty they are! Look, Heidi, at this one; look, look, at that
one over there!" And Heidi in her delight kept running after them
first into one corner and then into the other. The tutor stood up
by the table not knowing what to do, lifting first his right foot
and then his left to get it away from the scrambling, scratching
kittens. Fraulein Rottenmeier was unable at first to speak at
all, so overcome was she with horror, and she did not dare rise
from her chair for fear that all the dreadful little animals
should jump upon her at once. At last she found voice to call
loudly, "Tinette! Tinette! Sebastian! Sebastian!"