hen she had gone, and the
children hardly knew how to pass their time.

Next day, Heidi came to Clara in the afternoon and said: "Can I
always, always read to you now, Clara?"

Clara assented, and Heidi began. But she did not get very far, for the
story she was reading told of a grandmother's death. Suddenly she
cried aloud: "Oh, now grandmother is dead!" and wept in the most
pitiful fashion. Whatever Heidi read always seemed real to her, and
now she thought it was her own grandmother at home. Louder and louder
she sobbed: "Now poor grandmother is dead and I can never see her any
more; and she never got one single roll!"

Clara attempted to explain the mistake, but Heidi was too much upset.
She pictured to herself how terrible it would be if her dear old
grandfather would die too while she was far away. How quiet and empty
it would be in the hut, and how lonely she would be!

Miss Rottenmeier had overheard the scene, and approaching the sobbing
child she said impatiently: "Adelheid, now you have screamed enough.
If I hear you again giving way to yourself in such a noisy fashion, I
shall take your book away forever!"

Heidi turned pale at that, for the book was her greatest treasure.
Quickly drying her tears, she choked down her sobs. After that Heidi
never cried again; often she could hardly repress her sobs and was
obliged to make the strangest faces to keep herself from crying out.
Clara often looked at her, full of surprise, but Miss Rottenmeier did
not notice them and found no occasion to carry out her threat.
However, the poor child got more cheerless every day, and looked so
thin and pale that Sebastian became worried. He tried to encourage her
at table to help herself to all the good dishes, but listlessly she
would let them pass and hardly touch them. In the evening she would
cry quietly, her heart bursting with longing to go home.

Thus the time passed by. Heidi never knew if it was summer or winter,
for the walls opposite never changed. They drove out very seldom, for
Clara was only able to go a short distance. They never saw anything
else than streets, houses and busy people; no grass, no fir-trees and
no mountains. Heidi struggled constantly against her sorrow, but in
vain. Autumn and winter had passed, and Heidi knew that the time was
coming when Peter would go up the Alp with his goats, where the
flowers were glistening in the sunshine and the mountains were all
afire. She would sit down in a corner