The Wizard of Oz: Chapter 18

The Wizard of Oz.

18. Away to the South

Dorothy wept bitterly at the passing of her hope to get hometo Kansas again; but when she thought it all over she was glad shehad not gone up in a balloon. And she also felt sorry at losingOz, and so did her companions.
The Tin Woodman came to her and said:
"Truly I should be ungrateful if I failed to mourn for theman who gave me my lovely heart. I should like to cry a littlebecause Oz is gone, if you will kindly wipe away my tears, so thatI shall not rust."
"With pleasure," she answered, and brought a towel at once.Then the Tin Woodman wept for several minutes, and she watched thetears carefully and wiped them away with the towel. When he hadfinished, he thanked her kindly and oiled himself thoroughly withhis jeweled oil-can, to guard against mishap.
The Scarecrow was now the ruler of the Emerald City,and although he was not a Wizard the people were proud of him."For," they said, "there is not another city in all the worldthat is ruled by a stuffed man." And, so far as they knew,they were quite right.
The morning after the balloon had gone up with Oz, thefour travelers met in the Throne Room and talked matters over.The Scarecrow sat in the big throne and the others stoodrespectfully before him.
"We are not so unlucky," said the new ruler, "for this Palaceand the Emerald City belong to us, and we can do just as we please.When I remember that a short time ago I was up on a pole in a farmer'scornfield, and that now I am the ruler of this beautiful City, I amquite satisfied with my lot."
"I also," said the Tin Woodman, "am well-pleased with my new heart;and, really, that was the only thing I wished in all the world."
"For my part, I am content in knowing I am as brave as anybeast that ever lived, if not braver," said the Lion modestly.
"If Dorothy would only be contented to live in the Emerald City,"continued the Scarecrow, "we might all be happy together."
"But I don't want to live here," cried Dorothy. "I want to goto Kansas, and live with Aunt Em and Uncle Henry."
"Well, then, what can be done?" inquired the Woodman.
The Scarecrow decided to think, and he thought so hard that thepins and needles began to stick out of his brains. Finally he said:
"Why not call the Winged Monkeys, and ask them to carry youover the desert?"
"I never thought of that!" said Dorothy joyfully. "It's justthe thing. I'll go at once for the Golden Cap."
When she brought it into the Throne Room she spoke the magicwords, and soon the band of Winged Monkeys flew in through theopen window and stood beside her.
"This is the second time you have called us," said the MonkeyKing, bowing before the little girl. "What do you wish?"
"I want you to fly with me to Kansas," said Dorothy.
But the Monkey King shook his head.
"That cannot be done," he said. "We belong to this country alone,and cannot leave it. There has never been a Winged Monkey in Kansas yet,and I suppose there never will be, for they don't belong there. We shallbe glad to serve you in any way in our power, but we cannot cross the desert.Good-bye."
And with another bow, the Monkey King spread his wings andflew away through the window, followed by all his band.
Dorothy was ready to cry with disappointment. "I have wastedthe charm of the Golden Cap to no purpose," she said, "for theWinged Monkeys cannot help me."
"It is certainly too bad!" said the tender-hearted Woodman.
The Scarecrow was thinking again, and his head bulged out sohorribly that Dorothy feared it would burst.
"Let us call in the soldier with the green whiskers," he said,"and ask his advice."
So the soldier was summoned and entered the Throne Roomtimidly, for while Oz was alive he never was allowed to comefarther than the door.
"This little girl," said the Scarecrow to the soldier,"wishes to cross the desert. How can she do so?"
"I cannot tell," answered the soldier, "for nobody has evercrossed the desert, unless it is Oz himself."
"Is there no one who can help me?" asked Dorothy earnestly.
"Glinda might," he suggested.
"Who is Glinda?" inquired the Scarecrow.
"The Witch of the South. She is the most powerful of all theWitches, and rules over the Quadlings. Besides, her castle standson the edge of the desert, so she may know a way to cross it."
"Glinda is a Good Witch, isn't she?" asked the child.
"The Quadlings think she is good," said the soldier, "and sheis kind to everyone. I have heard that Glinda is a beautiful woman,who knows how to keep young in spite of the many years she has lived."
"How can I get to her castle?" asked Dorothy.
"The road is straight to the South," he answered, "but it issaid to be full of dangers to travelers. There are wild beasts inthe woods, and a race of queer men who do not like strangers tocross their country. For this reason none of the Quadlings evercome to the Emerald City."
The soldier then left them and the Scarecrow said:
"It seems, in spite of dangers, that the best thing Dorothycan do is to travel to the Land of the South and ask Glinda tohelp her. For, of course, if Dorothy stays here she will neverget back to Kansas."
"You must have been thinking again," remarked the Tin Woodman.
"I have," said the Scarecrow.
"I shall go with Dorothy," declared the Lion, "for I amtired of your city and long for the woods and the country again.I am really a wild beast, you know. Besides, Dorothy will needsomeone to protect her."
"That is true," agreed the Woodman. "My axe may be of serviceto her; so I also will go with her to the Land of the South."
"When shall we start?" asked the Scarecrow.
"Are you going?" they asked, in surprise.
"Certainly. If it wasn't for Dorothy I should never have had brains.She lifted me from the pole in the cornfield and brought me to theEmerald City. So my good luck is all due to her, and I shall neverleave her until she starts back to Kansas for good and all."
"Thank you," said Dorothy gratefully. "You are all very kindto me. But I should like to start as soon as possible."
"We shall go tomorrow morning," returned the Scarecrow. "Sonow let us all get ready, for it will be a long journey."

Heidi: Chapter 8.

Heidi.

Chapter 8: THE SESEMANN HOUSE IS HAUNTED


For several days Miss Rottenmeier had been wandering silently about
the house. When she went from room to room or along the corridors, she
would often glance back as if she were afraid that somebody was
following her. If she had to go to the upper floor, where the gorgeous
guest-rooms were, or to the lower story, where the big ball-room was
situated, she always told Tinette to come with her. The strange thing
was, that none of the servants dared to go anywhere alone and always
found an excuse to ask each other's company, which requests were
always granted. The cook, who had been in the house for many years,
would often shake her head and mutter: "That I should live to see
this!"

Something strange and weird was happening in the house. Every
morning, when the servants came down-stairs, they found the front door
wide open. At first everybody had thought that the house must have
been robbed, but nothing was missing. Every morning it was the same,
despite the double locks that were put on the door. At last John and
Sebastian, taking courage, prepared themselves to watch through a
night to see who was the ghost. Armed and provided with some
strengthening liquor, they repaired to a room down-stairs. First they
talked, but soon, getting sleepy, they leaned silently back in their
chairs. When the clock from the old church tower struck one, Sebastian
awoke and roused his comrade, which was no easy matter. At last,
however, John was wide awake, and together they went out into the
hall. The same moment a strong wind put out the light that John held
in his hand. Rushing back, he nearly upset Sebastian, who stood behind
him, and pulling the butler back into the room, he locked the door in
furious haste. When the light was lit again, Sebastian noticed that
John was deadly pale and trembling like an aspen leaf. Sebastian, not
having seen anything, asked anxiously: "What is the matter? What did
you see?"

"The door was open and a white form was on the stairs; it went up and
was gone in a moment," gasped John. Cold shivers ran down the butler's
back. They sat without moving till the morning came, and then,
shutting the door, they went upstairs to report to the housekeeper
what they had seen. The lady, who was waiting eagerly, heard the tale
and immediately sat down to write to Mr. Sesemann. She told him that
fright had paralyzed her fingers and that terrible things were
happening in the house. Then followed a tale of the appearance of the
ghost. Mr. Sesemann replied that he could not leave his business, and
advised Miss Rottenmeier to ask his mother to come to stay with them,
for Mrs. Sesemann would easily despatch the ghost. Miss Rottenmeier
was offended with the tone of the letter, which did not seem to take
her account seriously. Mrs. Sesemann also replied that she could not
come, so the housekeeper decided to tell the children all about it.
Clara, at the uncanny tale, immediately exclaimed that she would not
stay alone another moment and that she wished her father to come home.
The housekeeper arranged to sleep with the frightened child, while
Heidi, who did not know what ghosts were, was perfectly unmoved.
Another letter was despatched to Mr. Sesemann, telling him that the
excitement might have serious effects on his daughter's delicate
constitution, and mentioning several misfortunes that might probably
happen if he did not relieve the household from this terror.

This brought Mr. Sesemann. Going to his daughter's room after his
arrival, he was overjoyed to see her as well as ever. Clara was also
delighted to see her father.

"What new tricks has the ghost played on you, Miss Rottenmeier?" asked
Mr. Sesemann with a twinkle in his eye.

"It is no joke, Mr. Sesemann," replied the lady seriously. "I am sure
you will not laugh tomorrow. Those strange events indicate that
something secret and horrible has happened in this house in days gone
by."

"Is that so? this is new to me," remarked Mr. Sesemann. "But will you
please not suspect my venerable ancestors? Please call Sebastian; I
want to speak to him alone."

Mr. Sesemann knew that the two were not on good terms, so he said to
the butler:

"Come here, Sebastian, and tell me honestly, if you have played the
ghost for Miss Rottenmeier's pastime?"

"No, upon my word, master; you must not think that," replied Sebastian
frankly. "I do not like it quite myself."

"Well, I'll show you and John what ghosts look like by day. You ought
to be ashamed of yourselves, strong young men like you! Now go at once
to my old friend, Dr. Classen, and tell him to come to me at nine
o'clock to-night. Tell him that I came from Paris especially to
consult him, and that I want him to sit up all night with me. Do you
understand me, Sebastian?"

"Yes indeed! I shall do as you say, Mr. Sesemann." Mr. Sesemann then
went up to Clara's room to quiet and comfort her.

Punctually at nine o'clock the doctor arrived. Though his hair was
grey, his face was still fresh, and his eyes were lively and kind.
When he saw his friend, he laughed aloud and said: "Well, well, you
look pretty healthy for one who needs to be watched all night."

"Have patience, my old friend," replied Mr. Sesemann. "I am afraid the
person we have to sit up for will look worse, but first we must catch
him."

"What? Then somebody _is_ sick in this house? What do you mean?"

"Far worse, doctor, far worse. A ghost is in the house. My house is
haunted."

When the doctor laughed, Mr. Sesemann continued: "I call that
sympathy; I wish my friend Miss Rottenmeier could hear you. She is
convinced that an old Sesemann is wandering about, expiating some
dreadful deed."

"How did she make his acquaintance?" asked the doctor, much amused.

Mr. Sesemann then explained the circumstances. He said that the matter
was either a bad joke which an acquaintance of the servants was
playing in his absence, or it was a gang of thieves, who, after
intimidating the people, would surely rob his house by and by.

With these explanations they entered the room where the two servants
had watched before. A few bottles of wine stood on the table and two
bright candelabra shed a brilliant light. Two revolvers were ready for
emergencies.

They left the door only partly open, for too much light might drive
the ghost away. Then, sitting down comfortably, the two men passed
their time by chatting, taking a sip now and then.

"The ghost seems to have spied us and probably won't come to-day,"
said the doctor.

"We must have patience. It is supposed to come at one," replied his
friend.

So they talked till one o'clock. Everything was quiet, and not a sound
came from the street. Suddenly the doctor raised his finger.

"Sh! Sesemann, don't you hear something?"

While they both listened, the bar was unfastened, the key was turned,
and the door flew open. Mr. Sesemann seized his revolver.

"You are not afraid, I hope?" said the doctor, getting up.

"Better be cautious!" whispered Mr. Sesemann, seizing the candelabrum
in the other hand. The doctor followed with his revolver and the
light, and so they went out into the hall.

On the threshhold stood a motionless white form, lighted up by the
moon.

"Who is there?" thundered the doctor, approaching the figure. It
turned and uttered a low shriek. There stood Heidi, with bare feet and
in her white night-gown, looking bewildered at the bright light and
the weapons. She was shaking with fear, while the two men were looking
at her in amazement.

"Sesemann, this seems to be your little water carrier," said the
doctor.

"Child, what does this mean?" asked Mr. Sesemann. "What did you want
to do? Why have you come down here?"

Pale from fright, Heidi said: "I do not know."

The doctor came forward now. "Sesemann, this case belongs to my field.
Please go and sit down while I take her to bed."

Putting his revolver aside, he led the trembling child up-stairs.

"Don't be afraid; just be quiet! Everything is all right; don't be
frightened."

When they had arrived in Heidi's room, the doctor put the little girl
to bed, covering her up carefully. Drawing a chair near the couch, he
waited till Heidi had calmed down and had stopped trembling. Then
taking her hand in his, he said kindly: "Now everything is all right
again. Tell me where you wanted to go?"

"I did not want to go anywhere," Heidi assured him; "I did not go
myself, only I was there all of a sudden."

"Really! Tell me, what did you dream?"

"Oh, I have the same dream every night. I always think I am with my
grandfather again and can hear the fir-trees roar. I always think how
beautiful the stars must be, and then I open the door of the hut, and
oh, it is so wonderful! But when I wake up I am always in Frankfurt."
Heidi had to fight the sobs that were rising in her throat.

"Does your back or your head hurt you, child?"

"No, but I feel as if a big stone was pressing me here."

"As if you had eaten something that disagreed with you?"

"Oh no, but as if I wanted to cry hard."

"So, and then you cry out, don't you?"

"Oh no, I must never do that, for Miss Rottenmeier has forbidden it."

"Then you swallow it down? Yes? Do you like to be here?"

"Oh yes," was the faint, uncertain reply.

"Where did you live with your grandfather?"

"Up on the Alp."

"But wasn't it a little lonely there?"

"Oh no, it was so beautiful!"--But Heidi could say no more. The
recollection, the excitement of the night and all the restrained
sorrow overpowered the child. The tears rushed violently from her eyes
and she broke out into loud sobs.

The doctor rose, and soothing her, said: "It won't hurt to cry; you'll
go to sleep afterward, and when you wake up everything will come
right." Then he left the room.

Joining his anxious friend down-stairs, he said: "Sesemann, the little
girl is a sleep-walker, and has unconsciously scared your whole
household. Besides, she is so home-sick that her little body has
wasted away. We shall have to act quickly. The only remedy for her is
to be restored to her native mountain air. This is my prescription,
and she must go tomorrow."

"What, sick, a sleep-walker, and wasted away in my house! Nobody even
suspected it! You think I should send this child back in this
condition, when she has come in good health? No, doctor, ask
everything but that. Take her in hand and prescribe for her, but let
her get well before I send her back."

"Sesemann," the doctor replied seriously, "just think what you are
doing. We cannot cure her with powders and pills. The child has not a
strong constitution, and if you keep her here, she might never get
well again. If you restore her to the bracing mountain air to which
she is accustomed, she probably will get perfectly well again."

When Mr. Sesemann heard this he said, "If that is your advice, we must
act at once; this is the only way then." With these words Mr. Sesemann
took his friend's arm and walked about with him to talk the matter
over. When everything was settled, the doctor took his leave, for the
morning had already come and the sun was shining in through the door.

Heidi: Chapter 7.

Heidi, Chapter 7:

MISS ROTTENMEIER HAS AN UNCOMFORTABLE DAY.

When Heidi opened her eyes next morning, she did not know where she
was. She found herself on a high white bed in a spacious room. Looking
around she observed long white curtains before the windows, several
chairs, and a sofa covered with cretonne; in a corner she saw a
wash-stand with many curious things standing on it.

Suddenly Heidi remembered all the happenings of the previous day.
Jumping out of bed, she dressed in a great hurry. She was eager to
look at the sky and the ground below, as she had always done at home.
What was her disappointment when she found that the windows were too
high for her to see anything except the walls and windows opposite.
Trying to open them, she turned from one to the other, but in vain.
The poor child felt like a little bird that is placed in a glittering
cage for the first time. At last she had to resign herself, and sat
down on a low stool, thinking of the melting snow on the slopes and
the first flowers of spring that she had hailed with such delight.

Suddenly Tinette opened the door and said curtly: "Breakfast's ready."

Heidi did not take this for a summons, for the maid's face was
scornful and forbidding. She was waiting patiently for what would
happen next, when Miss Rottenmeier burst into the room, saying: "What
is the matter, Adelheid? Didn't you understand? Come to breakfast!"

Heidi immediately followed the lady into the dining-room, where Clara
greeted her with a smile. She looked much happier than usual, for she
expected new things to happen that day. When breakfast had passed
without disturbance, the two children were allowed to go into the
library together and were soon left alone.

"How can I see down to the ground?" Heidi asked.

"Open a window and peep out," replied Clara, amused at the question.

"But it is impossible to open them," Heidi said, sadly.

"Oh no. You can't do it and I can't help you, either, but if you ask
Sebastian he'll do it for you."

Heidi was relieved. The poor child had felt like a prisoner in her
room. Clara now asked Heidi what her home had been like, and Heidi
told her gladly about her life in the hut.

The tutor had arrived in the meantime, but he was not asked to go to
the study as usual. Miss Rottenmeier was very much excited about
Heidi's coming and all the complications that arose therefrom. She was
really responsible for it, having arranged everything herself. She
presented the unfortunate case before the teacher, for she wanted him
to help her to get rid of the child. Mr. Candidate, however, was
always careful of his judgments, and not afraid of teaching beginners.

When the lady saw that he would not side with her, she let him enter
the study alone, for the A,B,C held great horrors for her. While she
considered many problems, a frightful noise as of something falling
was heard in the adjoining room, followed by a cry to Sebastian for
help. Running in, she beheld a pile of books and papers on the floor,
with the table-cover on top. A black stream of ink flowed across the
length of the room. Heidi had disappeared.

"There," Miss Rottenmeier exclaimed, wringing her hands. "Everything
drenched with ink. Did such a thing ever happen before? This child
brings nothing but misfortunes on us."

The teacher was standing up, looking at the devastation, but Clara was
highly entertained by these events, and said: "Heidi has not done it
on purpose and must not be punished. In her hurry to get away she
caught on the table-cover and pulled it down. I think she must never
have seen a coach in all her life, for when she heard a carriage
rumbling by, she rushed out like mad."

"Didn't I tell you, Mr. Candidate, that she has no idea whatever about
behavior? She does not even know that she has to sit quiet at her
lessons. But where has she gone? What would Mr. Sesemann say if she
should run away?"

When Miss Rottenmeier went down-stairs to look for the child, she saw
her standing at the open door, looking down the street.

"What are you doing here? How can you run away like that?" scolded
Miss Rottenmeier.

"I heard the fir-trees rustle, but I can't see them and do not hear
them any more," replied Heidi, looking in great perplexity down the
street. The noise of the passing carriage had reminded her of the
roaring of the south-wind on the Alp.

"Fir-trees? What nonsense! We are not in a wood. Come with me now to
see what you have done." When Heidi saw the devastation that she had
caused, she was greatly surprised, for she had not noticed it in her
hurry.

"This must never happen again," said the lady sternly. "You must sit
quiet at your lessons; if you get up again I shall tie you to your
chair. Do you hear me?"

Heidi understood, and gave a promise to sit quietly during her lessons
from that time on. After the servants had straightened the room, it
was late, and there was no more time for studies. Nobody had time to
yawn that morning.

In the afternoon, while Clara was resting, Heidi was left to herself.
She planted herself in the hall and waited for the butler to come
up-stairs with the silver things. When he reached the head of the
stairs, she said to him: "I want to ask you something." She saw that
the butler seemed angry, so she reassured him by saying that she did
not mean any harm.

"All right, Miss, what is it?"

"My name is not Miss, why don't you call me Heidi?"

"Miss Rottenmeier told me to call you Miss."

"Did she? Well then, it must be so. I have three names already,"
sighed the child.

"What can I do for you?" asked Sebastian now.

"Can you open a window for me?"

"Certainly," he replied.

Sebastian got a stool for Heidi, for the window-sill was too high for
her to see over. In great disappointment, Heidi turned her head away.

"I don't see anything but a street of stone. Is it the same way on the
other side of the house?"

"Yes."

"Where do you go to look far down on everything?"

"On a church-tower. Do you see that one over there with the golden
dome? From there you can overlook everything."

Heidi immediately stepped down from the stool and ran down-stairs.
Opening the door, she found herself in the street, but she could not
see the tower any more. She wandered on from street to street, not
daring to accost any of the busy people. Passing a corner, she saw a
boy who had a barrel-organ on his back and a curious animal on his
arm. Heidi ran to him and asked: "Where is the tower with the golden
dome?"

"Don't know," was the reply.

"Who can tell me?"

"Don't know."

"Can you show me another church with a tower?"

"Of course I can."

"Then come and show me."

"What are you going to give me for it?" said the boy, holding out his
hand. Heidi had nothing in her pocket but a little flower-picture.
Clara had only given it to her this morning, so she was loath to part
with it. The temptation to look far down into the valley was too
great for her, though, and she offered him the gift. The boy shook his
head, to Heidi's satisfaction.

"What else do you want?"

"Money."

"I have none, but Clara has some. How much must I give you?"

"Twenty pennies."

"All right, but come."

While they were wandering down the street, Heidi found out what a
barrel-organ was, for she had never seen one. When they arrived before
an old church with a tower, Heidi was puzzled what to do next, but
having discovered a bell, she pulled it with all her might. The boy
agreed to wait for Heidi and show her the way home if she gave him a
double fee.

The lock creaked now from inside, and an old man opened the door. In
an angry voice, he said: "How do you dare to ring for me? Can't you
see that it is only for those who want to see the tower?"

"But I do," said Heidi.

"What do you want to see? Did anybody send you?" asked the man.

"No; but I want to look down from up there."

"Get home and don't try it again." With that the tower-keeper was
going to shut the door, but Heidi held his coat-tails and pleaded with
him to let her come. The tower-keeper looked at the child's eyes,
which were nearly full of tears.

"All right, come along, if you care so much," he said, taking her by
the hand. The two climbed up now many, many steps, which got narrower
all the time. When they had arrived on top, the old man lifted Heidi
up to the open window.

Heidi saw nothing but a sea of chimneys, roofs and towers, and her
heart sank. "Oh, dear, it's different from the way I thought it would
be," she said.

"There! what could such a little girl know about a view? We'll go down
now and you must promise never to ring at my tower any more."

On their way they passed an attic, where a large grey cat guarded her
new family in a basket. This cat caught half-a-dozen mice every day
for herself, for the old tower was full of rats and mice. Heidi gazed
at her in surprise, and was delighted when the old man opened the
basket.

"What charming kittens, what cunning little creatures!" she exclaimed
in her delight, when she saw them crawling about, jumping and
tumbling.

"Would you like to have one?" the old man asked.

"For me? to keep?" Heidi asked, for she could not believe her ears.

"Yes, of course. You can have several if you have room for them," the
old man said, glad to find a good home for the kittens.

How happy Heidi was! Of course there was enough room in the huge
house, and Clara would be delighted when she saw the cunning things.

"How can I take them with me?" the child asked, after she had tried in
vain to catch one.

"I can bring them to your house, if you tell me where you live," said
Heidi's new friend, while he caressed the old cat, who had lived with
him many years.

"Bring them to Mr. Sesemann's house; there is a golden dog on the
door, with a ring in his mouth."

The old man had lived in the tower a long time and knew everybody;
Sebastian also was a special friend of his.

"I know," he said. "But to whom shall I send them? Do you belong to
Mr. Sesemann?"

"No. Please send them to Clara; she will like them, I am sure."

Heidi could hardly tear herself away from the pretty things, so the
old man put one kitten in each of her pockets to console her. After
that she went away.

The boy was waiting patiently for her, and when she had taken leave of
the tower-keeper, she asked the boy: "Do you know where Mr. Sesemann's
house is?"

"No," was the reply.

She described it as well as she could, till the boy remembered it. Off
they started, and soon Heidi found herself pulling the door-bell. When
Sebastian arrived he said: "Hurry up." Heidi went in, and the boy was
left outside, for Sebastian had not even seen him.

"Come up quickly, little Miss," he urged. "They are all waiting for
you in the dining-room. Miss Rottenmeier looks like a loaded cannon.
How could you run away like that?"

Heidi sat down quietly on her chair. Nobody said a word, and there was
an uncomfortable silence. At last Miss Rottenmeier began with a severe
and solemn voice: "I shall speak with you later, Adelheid. How can you
leave the house without a word? Your behavior was very remiss. The
idea of walking about till so late!"

"Meow!" was the reply.

"I didn't," Heidi began--"Meow!"

Sebastian nearly flung the dish on the table, and disappeared.

"This is enough," Miss Rottenmeier tried to say, but her voice was
hoarse with fury. "Get up and leave the room."

Heidi got up. She began again. "I made--" "Meow! meow! meow!--"

"Heidi," said Clara now, "why do you always say 'meow' again, if you
see that Miss Rottenmeier is angry?"

"I am not doing it, it's the kittens," she explained.

"What? Cats? Kittens?" screamed the housekeeper. "Sebastian, Tinette,
take the horrible things away!" With that she ran into the study,
locking herself in, for she feared kittens beyond anything on earth.
When Sebastian had finished his laugh, he came into the room. He had
foreseen the excitement, having caught sight of the kittens when Heidi
came in. The scene was a very peaceful one now; Clara held the little
kittens in her lap, and Heidi was kneeling beside her. They both
played happily with the two graceful creatures. The butler promised to
look after the new-comers and prepared a bed for them in a basket.

A long time afterwards, when it was time to go to bed, Miss
Rottenmeier cautiously opened the door. "Are they away?" she asked.
"Yes," replied the butler, quickly seizing the kittens and taking them
away.

The lecture that Miss Rottenmeier was going to give Heidi was
postponed to the following day, for the lady was too much exhausted
after her fright. They all went quietly to bed, and the children were
happy in the thought that their kittens had a comfortable bed.

Heidi: Chapter 6.

Chapter 6:
A NEW CHAPTER WITH NEW THINGS.

In a beautiful house in Frankfurt lived a sick child by the name of
Clara Sesemann. She was sitting in a comfortable rolling-chair, which
could be pushed from room to room. Clara spent most of her time in the
study, where long rows of bookcases lined the walls. This room was
used as a living-room, and here she was also given her lessons.

Clara had a pale, thin face with soft blue eyes, which at that moment
were watching the clock impatiently. At last she said: "Oh Miss
Rottenmeier, isn't it time yet?"

The lady so addressed was the housekeeper, who had lived with Clara
since Mrs. Sesemann's death. Miss Rottenmeier wore a peculiar uniform
with a long cape, and a high cap on her head. Clara's father, who was
away from home a great deal, left the entire management of the house
to this lady, on the condition that his daughter's wishes should
always be considered.

While Clara was waiting, Deta had arrived at the front door with
Heidi. She was asking the coachman who had brought her if she could go
upstairs.

"That's not my business," grumbled the coachman; "you must ring for
the butler."

Sebastian, the butler, a man with large brass buttons on his coat,
soon stood before her.

"May I see Miss Rottenmeier?" Deta asked.

"That's not my business," the butler announced. "Ring for Tinette, the
maid." With that, he disappeared.

Deta, ringing again, saw a girl with a brilliant white cap on her
head, coming down the stairway. The maid stopped half-way down and
asked scornfully: "What do you want?"

Deta repeated her wish again. Tinette told her to wait while she went
upstairs, but it did not take long before the two were asked to come
up.

Following the maid, they found themselves in the study. Deta held on
to Heidi's hand and stayed near the door.

Miss Rottenmeier, slowly getting up, approached the newcomers. She did
not seem pleased with Heidi, who wore her hat and shawl and was
looking up at the lady's headdress with innocent wonder.

"What is your name?" the lady asked.

"Heidi," was the child's clear answer.

"What? Is that a Christian name? What name did you receive in
baptism?" inquired the lady again.

"I don't remember that any more," the child replied.

"What an answer! What does that mean?" said the housekeeper, shaking
her head. "Is the child ignorant or pert, Miss Deta?"

"I shall speak for the child, if I may, madam," Deta said, after
giving Heidi a little blow for her unbecoming answer. "The child has
never been in such a fine house and does not know how to behave. I
hope the lady will forgive her manners. She is called Adelheid after
her mother, who was my sister."

"Oh well, that is better. But Miss Deta, the child seems peculiar for
her age. I thought I told you that Miss Clara's companion would have
to be twelve years old like her, to be able to share her studies. How
old is Adelheid?"

"I am sorry, but I am afraid she is somewhat younger than I thought. I
think she is about ten years old."

"Grandfather said that I was eight years old," said Heidi now. Deta
gave her another blow, but as the child had no idea why, she did not
get embarrassed.

"What, only eight years old!" Miss Rottenmeier exclaimed indignantly.
"How can we get along? What have you learned? What books have you
studied?"

"None," said Heidi.

"But how did you learn to read?"

"I can't read and Peter can't do it either," Heidi retorted.

"For mercy's sake! you cannot read?" cried the lady in her surprise.
"How is it possible? What else have you studied?"

"Nothing," replied Heidi, truthfully.

"Miss Deta, how could you bring this child?" said the housekeeper,
when she was more composed.

Deta, however, was not easily intimidated, and said: "I am sorry, but
I thought this child would suit you. She _is_ small, but older
children are often spoilt and not like her. I must go now, for my
mistress is waiting. As soon as I can, I'll come to see how the child
is getting along." With a bow she was outside and with a few quick
steps hurried down-stairs.

Miss Rottenmeier followed her and tried to call her back, for she
wanted to ask Deta a number of questions.

Heidi was still standing on the same spot. Clara had watched the
scene, and called to the child now to come to her.

Heidi approached the rolling-chair.

"Do you want to be called Heidi or Adelheid?" asked Clara.

"My name is Heidi and nothing else," was the child's answer.

"I'll call you Heidi then, for I like it very much," said Clara. "I
have never heard the name before. What curly hair you have! Was it
always like that?"

"I think so."

"Did you like to come to Frankfurt?" asked Clara again.

"Oh, no, but then I am going home again to-morrow, and shall bring
grandmother some soft white rolls," Heidi explained.

"What a curious child you are," said Clara. "You have come to
Frankfurt to stay with me, don't you know that? We shall have our
lessons together, and I think it will be great fun when you learn to
read. Generally the morning seems to have no end, for Mr. Candidate
comes at ten and stays till two. That is a long time, and he has to
yawn himself, he gets so tired. Miss Rottenmeier and he both yawn
together behind their books, but when I do it, Miss Rottenmeier makes
me take cod-liver oil and says that I am ill. So I must swallow my
yawns, for I hate the oil. What fun it will be now, when you learn to
read!"

Heidi shook her head doubtfully at these prospects.

"Everybody must learn to read, Heidi. Mr. Candidate is very patient
and will explain it all to you. You won't know what he means at first,
for it is difficult to understand him. It won't take long to learn,
though, and then you will know what he means."

When Miss Rottenmeier found that she was unable to recall Deta, she
came back to the children. She was in a very excited mood, for she
felt responsible for Heidi's coming and did not know how to cancel
this unfortunate step. She soon got up again to go to the dining-room,
criticising the butler and giving orders to the maid. Sebastian, not
daring to show his rage otherwise, noisily opened the folding doors.
When he went up to Clara's chair, he saw Heidi watching him intently.
At last she said: "You look like Peter."

Miss Rottenmeier was horrified with this remark, and sent them all
into the dining-room. After Clara was lifted on to her chair, the
housekeeper sat down beside her. Heidi was motioned to sit opposite
the lady. In that way they were placed at the enormous table. When
Heidi saw a roll on her plate, she turned to Sebastian, and pointing
at it, asked, "Can I have this?" Heidi had already great confidence in
the butler, especially on account of the resemblance she had
discovered. The butler nodded, and when he saw Heidi put the bread in
her pocket, could hardly keep from laughing. He came to Heidi now with
a dish of small baked fishes. For a long time the child did not move;
then turning her eyes to the butler, she said: "Must I eat that?"
Sebastian nodded, but another pause ensued. "Why don't you give it to
me?" the child quietly asked, looking at her plate. The butler, hardly
able to keep his countenance, was told to place the dish on the table
and leave the room.

When he was gone, Miss Rottenmeier explained to Heidi with many signs
how to help herself at table. She also told her never to speak to
Sebastian unless it was important. After that the child was told how
to accost the servants and the governess. When the question came up of
how to call Clara, the older girl said, "Of course you shall call me
Clara."

A great many rules followed now about behavior at all times, about the
shutting of doors and about going to bed, and a hundred other things.
Poor Heidi's eyes were closing, for she had risen at five that
morning, and leaning against her chair she fell asleep. When Miss
Rottenmeier had finished instructions, she said: "I hope you will
remember everything, Adelheid. Did you understand me?"

"Heidi went to sleep a long time ago," said Clara, highly amused.

"It is atrocious what I have to bear with this child," exclaimed Miss
Rottenmeier, ringing the bell with all her might. When the two
servants arrived, they were hardly able to rouse Heidi enough to show
her to her bed-room.

Talking Books: The Wizard of Oz, Chapter 11

11. The Wonderful City of Oz

Even with eyes protected by the green spectacles, Dorothy
and her friends were at first dazzled by the brilliancy of the
wonderful City. The streets were lined with beautiful houses all
built of green marble and studded everywhere with sparkling
emeralds. They walked over a pavement of the same green marble,
and where the blocks were joined together were rows of emeralds,
set closely, and glittering in the brightness of the sun. The
window panes were of green glass; even the sky above the City had
a green tint, and the rays of the sun were green.

There were many people--men, women, and children--walking about,
and these were all dressed in green clothes and had greenish skins.
They looked at Dorothy and her strangely assorted company with
wondering eyes, and the children all ran away and hid behind
their mothers when they saw the Lion; but no one spoke to them.
Many shops stood in the street, and Dorothy saw that everything
in them was green. Green candy and green pop corn were offered
for sale, as well as green shoes, green hats, and green clothes
of all sorts. At one place a man was selling green lemonade,
and when the children bought it Dorothy could see that they paid
for it with green pennies.

There seemed to be no horses nor animals of any kind; the men
carried things around in little green carts, which they pushed
before them. Everyone seemed happy and contented and prosperous.

The Guardian of the Gates led them through the streets until
they came to a big building, exactly in the middle of the City,
which was the Palace of Oz, the Great Wizard. There was a soldier
before the door, dressed in a green uniform and wearing a long
green beard.

"Here are strangers," said the Guardian of the Gates to him,
"and they demand to see the Great Oz."

"Step inside," answered the soldier, "and I will carry your
message to him."

So they passed through the Palace Gates and were led into a
big room with a green carpet and lovely green furniture set with
emeralds. The soldier made them all wipe their feet upon a green
mat before entering this room, and when they were seated he said
politely:

"Please make yourselves comfortable while I go to the door of
the Throne Room and tell Oz you are here."

They had to wait a long time before the soldier returned.
When, at last, he came back, Dorothy asked:

"Have you seen Oz?"

"Oh, no," returned the soldier; "I have never seen him.
But I spoke to him as he sat behind his screen and gave him your
message. He said he will grant you an audience, if you so desire;
but each one of you must enter his presence alone, and he will
admit but one each day. Therefore, as you must remain in the
Palace for several days, I will have you shown to rooms where you
may rest in comfort after your journey."

"Thank you," replied the girl; "that is very kind of Oz."

The soldier now blew upon a green whistle, and at once a young girl,
dressed in a pretty green silk gown, entered the room. She had lovely
green hair and green eyes, and she bowed low before Dorothy as she said,
"Follow me and I will show you your room."

So Dorothy said good-bye to all her friends except Toto, and
taking the dog in her arms followed the green girl through seven
passages and up three flights of stairs until they came to a room
at the front of the Palace. It was the sweetest little room in
the world, with a soft comfortable bed that had sheets of green
silk and a green velvet counterpane. There was a tiny fountain in
the middle of the room, that shot a spray of green perfume into
the air, to fall back into a beautifully carved green marble basin.
Beautiful green flowers stood in the windows, and there was a shelf
with a row of little green books. When Dorothy had time to open
these books she found them full of queer green pictures that made
her laugh, they were so funny.

In a wardrobe were many green dresses, made of silk and satin
and velvet; and all of them fitted Dorothy exactly.

"Make yourself perfectly at home," said the green girl,
"and if you wish for anything ring the bell. Oz will send
for you tomorrow morning."

She left Dorothy alone and went back to the others. These she
also led to rooms, and each one of them found himself lodged in a
very pleasant part of the Palace. Of course this politeness was
wasted on the Scarecrow; for when he found himself alone in his
room he stood stupidly in one spot, just within the doorway, to
wait till morning. It would not rest him to lie down, and he
could not close his eyes; so he remained all night staring at a
little spider which was weaving its web in a corner of the room,
just as if it were not one of the most wonderful rooms in the world.
The Tin Woodman lay down on his bed from force of habit, for he
remembered when he was made of flesh; but not being able to sleep,
he passed the night moving his joints up and down to make sure they
kept in good working order. The Lion would have preferred a bed of
dried leaves in the forest, and did not like being shut up in a room;
but he had too much sense to let this worry him, so he sprang upon
the bed and rolled himself up like a cat and purred himself asleep
in a minute.

The next morning, after breakfast, the green maiden came to
fetch Dorothy, and she dressed her in one of the prettiest gowns,
made of green brocaded satin. Dorothy put on a green silk apron
and tied a green ribbon around Toto's neck, and they started
for the Throne Room of the Great Oz.

First they came to a great hall in which were many ladies and
gentlemen of the court, all dressed in rich costumes. These
people had nothing to do but talk to each other, but they always
came to wait outside the Throne Room every morning, although they
were never permitted to see Oz. As Dorothy entered they looked at
her curiously, and one of them whispered:

"Are you really going to look upon the face of Oz the Terrible?"

"Of course," answered the girl, "if he will see me."

"Oh, he will see you," said the soldier who had taken her
message to the Wizard, "although he does not like to have people
ask to see him. Indeed, at first he was angry and said I should
send you back where you came from. Then he asked me what you
looked like, and when I mentioned your silver shoes he was very
much interested. At last I told him about the mark upon your
forehead, and he decided he would admit you to his presence."

Just then a bell rang, and the green girl said to Dorothy,
"That is the signal. You must go into the Throne Room alone."

She opened a little door and Dorothy walked boldly through and
found herself in a wonderful place. It was a big, round room with
a high arched roof, and the walls and ceiling and floor were covered
with large emeralds set closely together. In the center of the roof
was a great light, as bright as the sun, which made the emeralds
sparkle in a wonderful manner.

But what interested Dorothy most was the big throne of green
marble that stood in the middle of the room. It was shaped like a
chair and sparkled with gems, as did everything else. In the
center of the chair was an enormous Head, without a body to
support it or any arms or legs whatever. There was no hair upon
this head, but it had eyes and a nose and mouth, and was much
bigger than the head of the biggest giant.

As Dorothy gazed upon this in wonder and fear, the eyes turned
slowly and looked at her sharply and steadily. Then the mouth
moved, and Dorothy heard a voice say:

"I am Oz, the Great and Terrible. Who are you, and why do you
seek me?"

It was not such an awful voice as she had expected to come
from the big Head; so she took courage and answered:

"I am Dorothy, the Small and Meek. I have come to you for help."

The eyes looked at her thoughtfully for a full minute.
Then said the voice:

"Where did you get the silver shoes?"

"I got them from the Wicked Witch of the East, when my house
fell on her and killed her," she replied.

"Where did you get the mark upon your forehead?" continued the voice.

"That is where the Good Witch of the North kissed me when she
bade me good-bye and sent me to you," said the girl.

Again the eyes looked at her sharply, and they saw she was
telling the truth. Then Oz asked, "What do you wish me to do?"

"Send me back to Kansas, where my Aunt Em and Uncle Henry are,"
she answered earnestly. "I don't like your country, although it is
so beautiful. And I am sure Aunt Em will be dreadfully worried over
my being away so long."

The eyes winked three times, and then they turned up to the
ceiling and down to the floor and rolled around so queerly that
they seemed to see every part of the room. And at last they
looked at Dorothy again.

"Why should I do this for you?" asked Oz.

"Because you are strong and I am weak; because you are a Great
Wizard and I am only a little girl."

"But you were strong enough to kill the Wicked Witch of the East,"
said Oz.

"That just happened," returned Dorothy simply; "I could not help it."

"Well," said the Head, "I will give you my answer. You have no
right to expect me to send you back to Kansas unless you do something
for me in return. In this country everyone must pay for everything
he gets. If you wish me to use my magic power to send you home again
you must do something for me first. Help me and I will help you."

"What must I do?" asked the girl.

"Kill the Wicked Witch of the West," answered Oz.

"But I cannot!" exclaimed Dorothy, greatly surprised.

"You killed the Witch of the East and you wear the silver shoes,
which bear a powerful charm. There is now but one Wicked Witch left
in all this land, and when you can tell me she is dead I will send
you back to Kansas--but not before."

The little girl began to weep, she was so much disappointed;
and the eyes winked again and looked upon her anxiously, as if the
Great Oz felt that she could help him if she would.

"I never killed anything, willingly," she sobbed. "Even if I
wanted to, how could I kill the Wicked Witch? If you, who are Great
and Terrible, cannot kill her yourself, how do you expect me to do it?"

"I do not know," said the Head; "but that is my answer, and
until the Wicked Witch dies you will not see your uncle and aunt
again. Remember that the Witch is Wicked--tremendously Wicked
-and ought to be killed. Now go, and do not ask to see me again
until you have done your task."

Sorrowfully Dorothy left the Throne Room and went back where
the Lion and the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman were waiting to
hear what Oz had said to her. "There is no hope for me," she
said sadly, "for Oz will not send me home until I have killed
the Wicked Witch of the West; and that I can never do."

Her friends were sorry, but could do nothing to help her; so
Dorothy went to her own room and lay down on the bed and cried
herself to sleep.

The next morning the soldier with the green whiskers came to
the Scarecrow and said:

"Come with me, for Oz has sent for you."

So the Scarecrow followed him and was admitted into the great
Throne Room, where he saw, sitting in the emerald throne, a most
lovely Lady. She was dressed in green silk gauze and wore upon
her flowing green locks a crown of jewels. Growing from her
shoulders were wings, gorgeous in color and so light that they
fluttered if the slightest breath of air reached them.

When the Scarecrow had bowed, as prettily as his straw stuffing would
let him, before this beautiful creature, she looked upon him sweetly,
and said:

"I am Oz, the Great and Terrible. Who are you, and why do you seek me?"

Now the Scarecrow, who had expected to see the great Head Dorothy had
told him of, was much astonished; but he answered her bravely.

"I am only a Scarecrow, stuffed with straw. Therefore I have
no brains, and I come to you praying that you will put brains in
my head instead of straw, so that I may become as much a man as
any other in your dominions."

"Why should I do this for you?" asked the Lady.

"Because you are wise and powerful, and no one else can help me,"
answered the Scarecrow.

"I never grant favors without some return," said Oz; "but this
much I will promise. If you will kill for me the Wicked Witch of
the West, I will bestow upon you a great many brains, and such
good brains that you will be the wisest man in all the Land of Oz."

"I thought you asked Dorothy to kill the Witch," said the Scarecrow,
in surprise.

"So I did. I don't care who kills her. But until she is dead
I will not grant your wish. Now go, and do not seek me again
until you have earned the brains you so greatly desire."

The Scarecrow went sorrowfully back to his friends and told
them what Oz had said; and Dorothy was surprised to find that the
Great Wizard was not a Head, as she had seen him, but a lovely Lady.

"All the same," said the Scarecrow, "she needs a heart as much
as the Tin Woodman."

On the next morning the soldier with the green whiskers came
to the Tin Woodman and said:

"Oz has sent for you. Follow me."

So the Tin Woodman followed him and came to the great Throne
Room. He did not know whether he would find Oz a lovely Lady or a
Head, but he hoped it would be the lovely Lady. "For," he said to
himself, "if it is the head, I am sure I shall not be given a
heart, since a head has no heart of its own and therefore cannot
feel for me. But if it is the lovely Lady I shall beg hard for a
heart, for all ladies are themselves said to be kindly hearted."

But when the Woodman entered the great Throne Room he saw
neither the Head nor the Lady, for Oz had taken the shape of a
most terrible Beast. It was nearly as big as an elephant, and the
green throne seemed hardly strong enough to hold its weight. The
Beast had a head like that of a rhinoceros, only there were five
eyes in its face. There were five long arms growing out of its
body, and it also had five long, slim legs. Thick, woolly hair
covered every part of it, and a more dreadful-looking monster
could not be imagined. It was fortunate the Tin Woodman had no
heart at that moment, for it would have beat loud and fast from
terror. But being only tin, the Woodman was not at all afraid,
although he was much disappointed.

"I am Oz, the Great and Terrible," spoke the Beast, in a voice
that was one great roar. "Who are you, and why do you seek me?"

"I am a Woodman, and made of tin. Therefore I have no heart,
and cannot love. I pray you to give me a heart that I may be as
other men are."

"Why should I do this?" demanded the Beast.

"Because I ask it, and you alone can grant my request,"
answered the Woodman.

Oz gave a low growl at this, but said, gruffly: "If you indeed
desire a heart, you must earn it."

"How?" asked the Woodman.

"Help Dorothy to kill the Wicked Witch of the West," replied
the Beast. "When the Witch is dead, come to me, and I will then
give you the biggest and kindest and most loving heart in all the
Land of Oz."

So the Tin Woodman was forced to return sorrowfully to his
friends and tell them of the terrible Beast he had seen.
They all wondered greatly at the many forms the Great Wizard
could take upon himself, and the Lion said:

"If he is a Beast when I go to see him, I shall roar my
loudest, and so frighten him that he will grant all I ask. And if
he is the lovely Lady, I shall pretend to spring upon her, and so
compel her to do my bidding. And if he is the great Head, he will
be at my mercy; for I will roll this head all about the room until
he promises to give us what we desire. So be of good cheer, my
friends, for all will yet be well."

The next morning the soldier with the green whiskers led the
Lion to the great Throne Room and bade him enter the presence of Oz.

The Lion at once passed through the door, and glancing around saw,
to his surprise, that before the throne was a Ball of Fire, so fierce
and glowing he could scarcely bear to gaze upon it. His first thought
was that Oz had by accident caught on fire and was burning up; but when
he tried to go nearer, the heat was so intense that it singed his whiskers,
and he crept back tremblingly to a spot nearer the door.

Then a low, quiet voice came from the Ball of Fire, and these
were the words it spoke:

"I am Oz, the Great and Terrible. Who are you, and why do you seek me?"

And the Lion answered, "I am a Cowardly Lion, afraid of everything.
I came to you to beg that you give me courage, so that in reality I may
become the King of Beasts, as men call me."

"Why should I give you courage?" demanded Oz.

"Because of all Wizards you are the greatest, and alone have
power to grant my request," answered the Lion.

The Ball of Fire burned fiercely for a time, and the voice said,
"Bring me proof that the Wicked Witch is dead, and that moment I will
give you courage. But as long as the Witch lives, you must remain a coward."

The Lion was angry at this speech, but could say nothing in reply,
and while he stood silently gazing at the Ball of Fire it became
so furiously hot that he turned tail and rushed from the room.
He was glad to find his friends waiting for him, and told them
of his terrible interview with the Wizard.

"What shall we do now?" asked Dorothy sadly.

"There is only one thing we can do," returned the Lion, "and
that is to go to the land of the Winkies, seek out the Wicked
Witch, and destroy her."

"But suppose we cannot?" said the girl.

"Then I shall never have courage," declared the Lion.

"And I shall never have brains," added the Scarecrow.

"And I shall never have a heart," spoke the Tin of Woodman.

"And I shall never see Aunt Em and Uncle Henry," said Dorothy,
beginning to cry.

"Be careful!" cried the green girl. "The tears will fall on
your green silk gown and spot it."

So Dorothy dried her eyes and said, "I suppose we must try it;
but I am sure I do not want to kill anybody, even to see Aunt Em again."

"I will go with you; but I'm too much of a coward to kill the
Witch," said the Lion.

"I will go too," declared the Scarecrow; "but I shall not be
of much help to you, I am such a fool."

"I haven't the heart to harm even a Witch," remarked the Tin
Woodman; "but if you go I certainly shall go with you."

Therefore it was decided to start upon their journey the next
morning, and the Woodman sharpened his axe on a green grindstone
and had all his joints properly oiled. The Scarecrow stuffed
himself with fresh straw and Dorothy put new paint on his eyes
that he might see better. The green girl, who was very kind to
them, filled Dorothy's basket with good things to eat, and
fastened a little bell around Toto's neck with a green ribbon.

They went to bed quite early and slept soundly until daylight,
when they were awakened by the crowing of a green cock that lived
in the back yard of the Palace, and the cackling of a hen that had
laid a green egg.

image credit: http://www.animactionsunlimited.com/Wizard%20of%20Oz.gif

Talking Books: Heidi Chapter Four, Part 2

Heidi.

Chapter Four, Part 2


Opening the door, Heidi found herself in a tiny, dark kitchen, and
going through another door, she entered a narrow chamber. Near a table
a woman was seated, busy with mending Peter's coat, which Heidi had
recognized immediately. A bent old woman was sitting in a corner, and
Heidi, approaching her at once, said: "How do you do, grandmother? I
have come now, and I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long!"

Lifting her head, the grandmother sought for Heidi's hand. Feeling it
thoughtfully, she said: "Are you the little girl who lives up with the
uncle? Is your name Heidi?"

"Yes," Heidi replied. "The grandfather just brought me down in the
sled."

"How is it possible? Your hands are as warm as toast! Brigida, did the
uncle really come down with the child?"

Brigida, Peter's mother, had gotten up to look at the child. She said:
"I don't know if he did, but I don't think so. She probably doesn't
know."

Heidi, looking up, said quite decidedly: "I know that grandfather
wrapped me up in a cover when we coasted down together."

"Peter was right after all," said the grandmother. "We never thought
the child would live more than three weeks with him. Brigida, tell me
what she looks like."

"She has Adelheid's fine limbs and black eyes, and curly hair like
Tobias and the old man. I think she looks like both of them."

While the women were talking, Heidi had been taking in everything.
Then she said: "Grandmother, look at the shutter over there. It is
hanging loose. If grandfather were here, he would fasten it. It will
break the window-pane! Just look at it."

"What a sweet child you are," said the grandmother tenderly. "I can
hear it, but I cannot see it, child. This cottage rattles and creaks,
and when the wind blows, it comes in through every chink. Some day the
whole house will break to pieces and fall on top of us. If only Peter
knew how to mend it! We have no one else."

"Why, grandmother, can't you see the shutter?" asked Heidi.

"Child, I cannot see anything," lamented the old woman.

"Can you see it when I open the shutter to let in the light?"

"No, no, not even then. Nobody can ever show me the light again."

"But you can see when you go out into the snow, where everything is
bright. Come with me, grandmother, I'll show you!" and Heidi, taking
the old woman by the hand, tried to lead her out. Heidi was frightened
and got more anxious all the time.

"Just let me stay here, child. Everything is dark for me, and my poor
eyes can neither see the snow nor the light."

"But grandmother, does it not get light in the summer, when the sun
shines down on the mountains to say good-night, setting them all
aflame?"

"No, child, I can never see the fiery mountains any more. I have to
live in darkness, always."

Heidi burst out crying now and sobbed aloud. "Can nobody make it light
for you? Is there nobody who can do it, grandmother? Nobody?"

The grandmother tried all possible means to comfort the child; it
wrung her heart to see her terrible distress. It was awfully hard for
Heidi to stop crying when she had once begun, for she cried so seldom.
The grandmother said: "Heidi, let me tell you something. People who
cannot see love to listen to friendly words. Sit down beside me and
tell me all about yourself. Talk to me about your grandfather, for it
has been long since I have heard anything about him. I used to know
him very well."

Heidi suddenly wiped away her tears, for she had had a cheering
thought. "Grandmother, I shall tell grandfather about it, and I am
sure he can make it light for you. He can mend your little house and
stop the rattling."

The old woman remained silent, and Heidi, with the greatest vivacity,
began to describe her life with the grandfather. Listening
attentively, the two women would say to each other sometimes: "Do you
hear what she says about the uncle? Did you listen?"

Heidi's tale was interrupted suddenly by a great thumping on the door;
and who should come in but Peter. No sooner had he seen Heidi, than he
smiled, opening his round eyes as wide as possible. Heidi called,
"Good-evening, Peter!"

"Is it really time for him to come home!" exclaimed Peter's
grandmother. "How quickly the time has flown. Good-evening, little
Peter; how is your reading going?"

"Just the same," the boy replied.

"Oh, dear, I was hoping for a change at last. You are nearly twelve
years old, my boy."

"Why should there be a change?" inquired Heidi with greatest interest.

"I am afraid he'll never learn it after all. On the shelf over there
is an old prayer-book with beautiful songs. I have forgotten them all,
for I do not hear them any more. I longed that Peter should read them
to me some day, but he will never be able to!"

Peter's mother got up from her work now, saying, "I must make a light.
The afternoon has passed and now it's getting dark."

When Heidi heard those words, she started, and holding out her hand to
all, she said: "Good-night. I have to go, for it is getting dark." But
the anxious grandmother called out: "Wait, child, don't go up alone!
Go with her, Peter, and take care that she does not fall. Don't let
her get cold, do you hear? Has Heidi a shawl?"

"I haven't, but I won't be cold," Heidi called back, for she had
already escaped through the door. She ran so fast that Peter could
hardly follow her. The old woman frettingly called out: "Brigida, run
after her. Get a warm shawl, she'll freeze in this cold night. Hurry
up!" Brigida obeyed. The children had hardly climbed any distance,
when they saw the old man coming and with a few vigorous steps he
stood beside them.

"I am glad you kept you word, Heidi," he said; and packing her into
her cover, he started up the hill, carrying the child in his arms.
Brigida had come in time to see it, and told the grandmother what she
had witnessed.

"Thank God, thank God!" the old woman said. "I hope she'll come again;
she has done me so much good! What a soft heart she has, the darling,
and how nicely she can talk." All evening the grandmother said to
herself, "If only he lets her come again! I have something to look
forward to in this world now, thank God!"

Talking Books: The Wizard of Oz, Chapter 10

10. The Guardian of the Gate.

It was some time before the Cowardly Lion awakened, for he had
lain among the poppies a long while, breathing in their deadly
fragrance; but when he did open his eyes and roll off the truck
he was very glad to find himself still alive.

"I ran as fast as I could," he said, sitting down and yawning,
"but the flowers were too strong for me. How did you get me out?"

Then they told him of the field mice, and how they had generously
saved him from death; and the Cowardly Lion laughed, and said:

"I have always thought myself very big and terrible; yet such
little things as flowers came near to killing me, and such small
animals as mice have saved my life. How strange it all is!
But, comrades, what shall we do now?"

"We must journey on until we find the road of yellow brick again,"
said Dorothy, "and then we can keep on to the Emerald City."

So, the Lion being fully refreshed, and feeling quite himself again,
they all started upon the journey, greatly enjoying the walk through the soft,
fresh grass; and it was not long before they reached the road of yellow brick
and turned again toward the Emerald City where the Great Oz dwelt.

The road was smooth and well paved, now, and the country about
was beautiful, so that the travelers rejoiced in leaving the
forest far behind, and with it the many dangers they had met in
its gloomy shades. Once more they could see fences built beside
the road; but these were painted green, and when they came to a
small house, in which a farmer evidently lived, that also was
painted green. They passed by several of these houses during the
afternoon, and sometimes people came to the doors and looked at
them as if they would like to ask questions; but no one came near
them nor spoke to them because of the great Lion, of which they
were very much afraid. The people were all dressed in clothing of
a lovely emerald-green color and wore peaked hats like those of
the Munchkins.

"This must be the Land of Oz," said Dorothy, "and we are
surely getting near the Emerald City."

"Yes," answered the Scarecrow. "Everything is green here,
while in the country of the Munchkins blue was the favorite color.
But the people do not seem to be as friendly as the Munchkins, and
I'm afraid we shall be unable to find a place to pass the night."

"I should like something to eat besides fruit," said the girl,
"and I'm sure Toto is nearly starved. Let us stop at the next
house and talk to the people."

So, when they came to a good-sized farmhouse, Dorothy walked
boldly up to the door and knocked.

A woman opened it just far enough to look out, and said,
"What do you want, child, and why is that great Lion with you?"

"We wish to pass the night with you, if you will allow us,"
answered Dorothy; "and the Lion is my friend and comrade, and
would not hurt you for the world."

"Is he tame?" asked the woman, opening the door a little wider.

"Oh, yes," said the girl, "and he is a great coward, too.
He will be more afraid of you than you are of him."

"Well," said the woman, after thinking it over and taking
another peep at the Lion, "if that is the case you may come in,
and I will give you some supper and a place to sleep."

So they all entered the house, where there were, besides the
woman, two children and a man. The man had hurt his leg, and was
lying on the couch in a corner. They seemed greatly surprised to
see so strange a company, and while the woman was busy laying the
table the man asked:

"Where are you all going?"

"To the Emerald City," said Dorothy, "to see the Great Oz."

"Oh, indeed!" exclaimed the man. "Are you sure that Oz will see you?"

"Why not?" she replied.

"Why, it is said that he never lets anyone come into his presence.
I have been to the Emerald City many times, and it is a beautiful and
wonderful place; but I have never been permitted to see the Great Oz,
nor do I know of any living person who has seen him."

"Does he never go out?" asked the Scarecrow.

"Never. He sits day after day in the great Throne Room of his
Palace, and even those who wait upon him do not see him face to face."

"What is he like?" asked the girl.

"That is hard to tell," said the man thoughtfully. "You see,
Oz is a Great Wizard, and can take on any form he wishes. So that
some say he looks like a bird; and some say he looks like an
elephant; and some say he looks like a cat. To others he appears
as a beautiful fairy, or a brownie, or in any other form that
pleases him. But who the real Oz is, when he is in his own form,
no living person can tell."

"That is very strange," said Dorothy, "but we must try, in
some way, to see him, or we shall have made our journey for nothing."

"Why do you wish to see the terrible Oz?" asked the man.

"I want him to give me some brains," said the Scarecrow eagerly.

"Oh, Oz could do that easily enough," declared the man.
"He has more brains than he needs."

"And I want him to give me a heart," said the Tin Woodman.

"That will not trouble him," continued the man, "for Oz has a
large collection of hearts, of all sizes and shapes."

"And I want him to give me courage," said the Cowardly Lion.

"Oz keeps a great pot of courage in his Throne Room," said
the man, "which he has covered with a golden plate, to keep it
from running over. He will be glad to give you some."

"And I want him to send me back to Kansas," said Dorothy.

"Where is Kansas?" asked the man, with surprise.

"I don't know," replied Dorothy sorrowfully, "but it is my home,
and I'm sure it's somewhere."

"Very likely. Well, Oz can do anything; so I suppose he will
find Kansas for you. But first you must get to see him, and that
will be a hard task; for the Great Wizard does not like to see anyone,
and he usually has his own way. But what do YOU want?" he continued,
speaking to Toto. Toto only wagged his tail; for, strange to say,
he could not speak.

The woman now called to them that supper was ready, so they
gathered around the table and Dorothy ate some delicious porridge
and a dish of scrambled eggs and a plate of nice white bread, and
enjoyed her meal. The Lion ate some of the porridge, but did not
care for it, saying it was made from oats and oats were food for
horses, not for lions. The Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman ate
nothing at all. Toto ate a little of everything, and was glad to
get a good supper again.

The woman now gave Dorothy a bed to sleep in, and Toto lay
down beside her, while the Lion guarded the door of her room so
she might not be disturbed. The Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman
stood up in a corner and kept quiet all night, although of course
they could not sleep.

The next morning, as soon as the sun was up, they started on
their way, and soon saw a beautiful green glow in the sky just
before them.

"That must be the Emerald City," said Dorothy.

As they walked on, the green glow became brighter and brighter,
and it seemed that at last they were nearing the end of their travels.
Yet it was afternoon before they came to the great wall that surrounded
the City. It was high and thick and of a bright green color.

In front of them, and at the end of the road of yellow brick,
was a big gate, all studded with emeralds that glittered so in the
sun that even the painted eyes of the Scarecrow were dazzled by
their brilliancy.

There was a bell beside the gate, and Dorothy pushed the
button and heard a silvery tinkle sound within. Then the big gate
swung slowly open, and they all passed through and found
themselves in a high arched room, the walls of which glistened
with countless emeralds.

Before them stood a little man about the same size as the
Munchkins. He was clothed all in green, from his head to his
feet, and even his skin was of a greenish tint. At his side was a
large green box.

When he saw Dorothy and her companions the man asked,
"What do you wish in the Emerald City?"

"We came here to see the Great Oz," said Dorothy.

The man was so surprised at this answer that he sat down to
think it over.

"It has been many years since anyone asked me to see Oz,"
he said, shaking his head in perplexity. "He is powerful and
terrible, and if you come on an idle or foolish errand to bother
the wise reflections of the Great Wizard, he might be angry and
destroy you all in an instant."

"But it is not a foolish errand, nor an idle one," replied the
Scarecrow; "it is important. And we have been told that Oz is a
good Wizard."

"So he is," said the green man, "and he rules the Emerald City
wisely and well. But to those who are not honest, or who approach
him from curiosity, he is most terrible, and few have ever dared
ask to see his face. I am the Guardian of the Gates, and since
you demand to see the Great Oz I must take you to his Palace.
But first you must put on the spectacles."

"Why?" asked Dorothy.

"Because if you did not wear spectacles the brightness and
glory of the Emerald City would blind you. Even those who live in
the City must wear spectacles night and day. They are all locked
on, for Oz so ordered it when the City was first built, and I have
the only key that will unlock them."

He opened the big box, and Dorothy saw that it was filled with
spectacles of every size and shape. All of them had green glasses
in them. The Guardian of the Gates found a pair that would just
fit Dorothy and put them over her eyes. There were two golden
bands fastened to them that passed around the back of her head,
where they were locked together by a little key that was at the
end of a chain the Guardian of the Gates wore around his neck.
When they were on, Dorothy could not take them off had she wished,
but of course she did not wish to be blinded by the glare of the
Emerald City, so she said nothing.

Then the green man fitted spectacles for the Scarecrow and the
Tin Woodman and the Lion, and even on little Toto; and all were
locked fast with the key.

Then the Guardian of the Gates put on his own glasses and told
them he was ready to show them to the Palace. Taking a big golden
key from a peg on the wall, he opened another gate, and they all
followed him through the portal into the streets of the Emerald City.

Talking Books: The Wizard of Oz; Chapter 9

The Wizard of Oz, Chapter 9.

The Queen of the Field Mice.


"We cannot be far from the road of yellow brick, now," remarked
the Scarecrow, as he stood beside the girl, "for we have come
nearly as far as the river carried us away."

The Tin Woodman was about to reply when he heard a low growl,
and turning his head (which worked beautifully on hinges) he saw a
strange beast come bounding over the grass toward them. It was,
indeed, a great yellow Wildcat, and the Woodman thought it must
be chasing something, for its ears were lying close to its head
and its mouth was wide open, showing two rows of ugly teeth, while
its red eyes glowed like balls of fire. As it came nearer the Tin
Woodman saw that running before the beast was a little gray field
mouse, and although he had no heart he knew it was wrong for the
Wildcat to try to kill such a pretty, harmless creature.

So the Woodman raised his axe, and as the Wildcat ran by he gave
it a quick blow that cut the beast's head clean off from its body,
and it rolled over at his feet in two pieces.

The field mouse, now that it was freed from its enemy, stopped short;
and coming slowly up to the Woodman it said, in a squeaky little voice:

"Oh, thank you! Thank you ever so much for saving my life."

"Don't speak of it, I beg of you," replied the Woodman.
"I have no heart, you know, so I am careful to help all those
who may need a friend, even if it happens to be only a mouse."

"Only a mouse!" cried the little animal, indignantly.
"Why, I am a Queen--the Queen of all the Field Mice!"

"Oh, indeed," said the Woodman, making a bow.

"Therefore you have done a great deed, as well as a brave one,
in saving my life," added the Queen.

At that moment several mice were seen running up as fast as
their little legs could carry them, and when they saw their Queen
they exclaimed:

"Oh, your Majesty, we thought you would be killed! How did
you manage to escape the great Wildcat?" They all bowed so low to
the little Queen that they almost stood upon their heads.

"This funny tin man," she answered, "killed the Wildcat and
saved my life. So hereafter you must all serve him, and obey his
slightest wish."

"We will!" cried all the mice, in a shrill chorus. And then they
scampered in all directions, for Toto had awakened from his sleep, and
seeing all these mice around him he gave one bark of delight and jumped
right into the middle of the group. Toto had always loved to chase mice
when he lived in Kansas, and he saw no harm in it.

But the Tin Woodman caught the dog in his arms and held him tight,
while he called to the mice, "Come back! Come back! Toto shall not hurt you."

At this the Queen of the Mice stuck her head out from underneath a clump
of grass and asked, in a timid voice, "Are you sure he will not bite us?"

"I will not let him," said the Woodman; "so do not be afraid."

One by one the mice came creeping back, and Toto did not bark again,
although he tried to get out of the Woodman's arms, and would have bitten
him had he not known very well he was made of tin. Finally one of the
biggest mice spoke.

"Is there anything we can do," it asked, "to repay you for
saving the life of our Queen?"

"Nothing that I know of," answered the Woodman; but the
Scarecrow, who had been trying to think, but could not because his
head was stuffed with straw, said, quickly, "Oh, yes; you can save
our friend, the Cowardly Lion, who is asleep in the poppy bed."

"A Lion!" cried the little Queen. "Why, he would eat us all up."

"Oh, no," declared the Scarecrow; "this Lion is a coward."

"Really?" asked the Mouse.

"He says so himself," answered the Scarecrow, "and he would
never hurt anyone who is our friend. If you will help us to save
him I promise that he shall treat you all with kindness."

"Very well," said the Queen, "we trust you. But what shall we do?"

"Are there many of these mice which call you Queen and are willing
to obey you?"

"Oh, yes; there are thousands," she replied.

"Then send for them all to come here as soon as possible,
and let each one bring a long piece of string."

The Queen turned to the mice that attended her and told them
to go at once and get all her people. As soon as they heard her
orders they ran away in every direction as fast as possible.

"Now," said the Scarecrow to the Tin Woodman, "you must go to
those trees by the riverside and make a truck that will carry the Lion."

So the Woodman went at once to the trees and began to work;
and he soon made a truck out of the limbs of trees, from which he
chopped away all the leaves and branches. He fastened it together
with wooden pegs and made the four wheels out of short pieces of a
big tree trunk. So fast and so well did he work that by the time
the mice began to arrive the truck was all ready for them.

They came from all directions, and there were thousands of
them: big mice and little mice and middle-sized mice; and each
one brought a piece of string in his mouth. It was about this
time that Dorothy woke from her long sleep and opened her eyes.
She was greatly astonished to find herself lying upon the grass,
with thousands of mice standing around and looking at her timidly.
But the Scarecrow told her about everything, and turning to the
dignified little Mouse, he said:

"Permit me to introduce to you her Majesty, the Queen."

Dorothy nodded gravely and the Queen made a curtsy, after
which she became quite friendly with the little girl.

The Scarecrow and the Woodman now began to fasten the mice to
the truck, using the strings they had brought. One end of a
string was tied around the neck of each mouse and the other end to
the truck. Of course the truck was a thousand times bigger than
any of the mice who were to draw it; but when all the mice had
been harnessed, they were able to pull it quite easily. Even the
Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman could sit on it, and were drawn swiftly
by their queer little horses to the place where the Lion lay asleep.

After a great deal of hard work, for the Lion was heavy, they
managed to get him up on the truck. Then the Queen hurriedly gave
her people the order to start, for she feared if the mice stayed
among the poppies too long they also would fall asleep.

At first the little creatures, many though they were, could
hardly stir the heavily loaded truck; but the Woodman and the
Scarecrow both pushed from behind, and they got along better.
Soon they rolled the Lion out of the poppy bed to the green fields,
where he could breathe the sweet, fresh air again, instead of the
poisonous scent of the flowers.

Dorothy came to meet them and thanked the little mice warmly
for saving her companion from death. She had grown so fond of
the big Lion she was glad he had been rescued.

Then the mice were unharnessed from the truck and scampered
away through the grass to their homes. The Queen of the Mice was
the last to leave.

"If ever you need us again," she said, "come out into the
field and call, and we shall hear you and come to your assistance.
Good-bye!"

"Good-bye!" they all answered, and away the Queen ran, while
Dorothy held Toto tightly lest he should run after her and
frighten her.

After this they sat down beside the Lion until he should
awaken; and the Scarecrow brought Dorothy some fruit from a tree
near by, which she ate for her dinner.

Talking Books: Heidi; Chapter Three, Part 1

Heidi: Chapter Three, Part 1

ON THE PASTURE
Heidi was awakened early next morning by a loud whistle. Opening her eyes, she saw her little bed and the hay beside her bathed in golden sunlight. For a short while she did not know where she was, but when she heard her grandfather's deep voice outside, she recollected everything. She remembered how she had come up the mountain the day before and left old Ursula, who was always shivering with cold and sat
near the stove all day. While Heidi lived with Ursula, she had always been obliged to keep in the house, where the old woman could see her.
Being deaf, Ursula was afraid to let Heidi go outdoors, and the child had often fretted in the narrow room and had longed to run outside. She was therefore delighted to find herself in her new home and hardly could wait to see the goats again. Jumping out of bed, she put on her few things and in a short time went down the ladder and ran outside. Peter was already there with his flock, waiting for Schwaenli and
Baerli, whom the grandfather was just bringing to join the other goats.

"Do you want to go with him to the pasture?" asked the grandfather.

"Yes," cried Heidi, clapping her hands.

"Go now, and wash yourself first, for the sun will laugh at you if he
sees how dirty you are. Everything is ready there for you," he added,
pointing to a large tub of water that stood in the sun. Heidi did as
she was told, and washed and rubbed herself till her cheeks were
glowing. In the meanwhile the grandfather called to Peter to come into
the hut and bring his bag along. The boy followed the old man, who
commanded him to open the bag in which he carried his scanty dinner.
The grandfather put into the bag a piece of bread and a slice of
cheese, that were easily twice as large as those the boy had in the
bag himself.

"The little bowl goes in, too," said the Uncle, "for the child does
not know how to drink straight from the goat, the way you do. She is
going to stay with you all day, therefore milk two bowls full for her
dinner. Look out that she does not fall over the rocks! Do you hear?"

Just then Heidi came running in. "Grandfather, can the sun still laugh
at me?" she asked. The child had rubbed herself so violently with the
coarse towel which the grandfather had put beside the tub that her
face, neck and arms were as red as a lobster. With a smile the
grandfather said: "No, he can't laugh any more now; but when you come
home to-night you must go into the tub like a fish. When one goes
about like the goats, one gets dirty feet. Be off!"

They started merrily up the Alp. A cloudless, deep-blue sky looked
down on them, for the wind had driven away every little cloud in the
night. The fresh green mountain-side was bathed in brilliant sunlight,
and many blue and yellow flowers had opened. Heidi was wild with joy
and ran from side to side. In one place she saw big patches of fine
red primroses, on another spot blue gentians sparkled in the grass,
and everywhere the golden rock-roses were nodding to her. In her
transport at finding such treasures, Heidi even forgot Peter and his
goats. She ran far ahead of him and then strayed away off to one side,
for the sparkling flowers tempted her here and there. Picking whole
bunches of them to take home with her, she put them all into her
little apron.

Peter, whose round eyes could only move about slowly, had a hard time
looking out for her. The goats were even worse, and only by shouting
and whistling, especially by swinging his rod, could he drive them
together.

"Heidi, where are you now?" he called quite angrily.

"Here," it sounded from somewhere. Peter could not see her, for she
was sitting on the ground behind a little mound, which was covered
with fragrant flowers. The whole air was filled with their perfume,
and the child drew it in, in long breaths.

"Follow me now!" Peter called out. "The grandfather has told me to
look out for you, and you must not fall over the rocks."

"Where are they?" asked Heidi without even stirring.

"Way up there, and we have still far to go. If you come quickly, we
may see the eagle there and hear him shriek."

That tempted Heidi, and she came running to Peter, with her apron full
of flowers.

"You have enough now," he declared. "If you pick them all to-day,
there won't be any left to-morrow." Heidi admitted that, besides which
she had her apron already full. From now on she stayed at Peter's
side. The goats, scenting the pungent herbs, also hurried up without
delay.

Talking Books: Heidi; Chapter Two, Part 2

Heidi: Chapter Two, Part 2

At last the evening came. The old fir-trees were rustling and a mighty wind was roaring and howling through the tree-tops. Those sounds thrilled Heidi's heart and filled it with happiness and joy. She danced and jumped about under the trees, for those sounds made her feel as if a wonderful thing had happened to her. The grandfather stood under the door, watching her, when suddenly a shrill whistle was heard. Heidi stood still and the grandfather joined her outside. Down from the heights came one goat after another, with Peter in their midst. Uttering a cry of joy, Heidi ran into the middle of the flock, greeting her old friends. When they had all reached the hut, they stopped on their way and two beautiful slender goats came out of the herd, one of them white and the other brown. They came up to the grandfather, who held out some salt in his hands to them, as he did every night. Heidi tenderly caressed first one and then the other,
seeming beside herself with joy.

"Are they ours, grandfather? Do they both belong to us? Are they going
to the stable? Are they going to stay with us?" Heidi kept on asking
in her excitement. The grandfather hardly could put in a "yes, yes,
surely" between her numerous questions. When the goats had licked up
all the salt, the old man said, "Go in, Heidi, and fetch your bowl
and the bread."

Heidi obeyed and returned instantly. The grandfather milked a full
bowl from the white goat, cut a piece of bread for the child, and told
her to eat. "Afterwards you can go to bed. If you need some shirts and
other linen, you will find them in the bottom of the cupboard. Aunt
Deta has left a bundle for you. Now good-night, I have to look after
the goats and lock them up for the night."

"Good-night, grandfather! Oh, please tell me what their names are,"
called Heidi after him.

"The white one's name is Schwaenli and the brown one I call Baerli," was
his answer.

"Good-night, Schwaenli! Good-night, Baerli," the little girl called
loudly, for they were just disappearing in the shed. Heidi now sat
down on the bench and took her supper. The strong wind nearly blew her
from her seat, so she hurried with her meal, to be able to go inside
and up to her bed. She slept in it as well as a prince on his royal
couch.

Very soon after Heidi had gone up, before it was quite dark, the old
man also sought his bed. He was always up in the morning with the sun,
which rose early over the mountain-side in those summer days. It was a
wild, stormy night; the hut was shaking in the gusts and all the
boards were creaking. The wind howled through the chimney and the old
fir-trees shook so strongly that many a dry branch came crashing down.
In the middle of the night the grandfather got up, saying to himself:
"I am sure she is afraid." Climbing up the ladder, he went up to
Heidi's bed. The first moment everything lay in darkness, when all of
a sudden the moon came out behind the clouds and sent his brilliant
light across Heidi's bed. Her cheeks were burning red and she lay
peacefully on her round and chubby arms. She must have had a happy
dream, for she was smiling in her sleep. The grandfather stood and
watched her till a cloud flew over the moon and left everything in
total darkness. Then he went down to seek his bed again.