HEIDI
“Thank God,” she exclaimed as Heidi came running in; the poor old woman had had a secret fear at heart all through the autumn, especially if Heidi was absent for any length of time, for Peter had told her of a strange gentleman who had come from Frankfurt, and who had gone out with them and always talked to Heidi, and she had felt sure he had come to take her away again. Even when she heard he had gone off alone, she still had an idea that a messenger would be sent over from Frankfurt to fetch the child. Heidi went up to the side of the bed and said, “Are you very ill, grandmother?”
“No, no, child,” answered the old woman reassuringly, passing her hand lovingly over the child’s head. “It’s only the frost that has got into my bones a bit.”
“Shall you be quite well then directly it turns warm again?”
“Yes, God willing, or even before that, for I want to get back to my spinning; I thought perhaps I should do a little to-day, but to-morrow I am sure to be all right again.” The old woman had detected that Heidi was frightened and was anxious to set her mind at ease.
Her words comforted Heidi, who had in truth been greatly distressed, for she had never before seen the grandmother ill in bed. She now looked at the old woman seriously for a minute or two, and then said, “In Frankfurt everybody puts on a shawl to go out walking; did you think it was to be worn in bed, grandmother?”
“I put it on, dear child, to keep myself from freezing, and I am so pleased with it, for my bedclothes are not very thick,” she answered.
“But, grandmother,” continued Heidi, “your bed is not
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