HEIDI
ground would peer closely into the short grass to see how many little flower cups were open or thinking of opening. She rejoiced with all the myriad little beetles and winged insects that jumped and crawled and danced in the sun, and drew in deep draughts of the spring scents that rose from the newly awakened earth, and thought the mountain was more beautiful than ever. All the tiny living creatures must be as happy as she, for it seemed to her there were little voices all round her singing and humming in joyful tones, “On the mountain! on the mountain!”
From the shed at the back came the sound of sawing and chopping, and Heidi listened to it with pleasure, for it was the old familiar sound she had known from the beginning of her life up here. Suddenly she jumped up and ran round, for she must know what her grandfather was doing. In front of the shed door already stood a finished new chair, and a second was in course of construction under the grandfather’s skilful hand.
“Oh, I know what these are for,” exclaimed Heidi in great glee. “We shall want them when they all come from Frankfurt. This one is for Grandmamma, and the one you are now making is for Clara, and then—then there will, I suppose, have to be another,” continued Heidi with more hesitation in her voice, “or do you think, grandfather, that perhaps Fräulein Rottenmeier will not come with them?”
“Well, I cannot say just yet,” replied her grandfather, “but it will be safer to make one so that we can offer her a seat if she does.”
Heidi looked thoughtfully at the plain wooden chair without arms as if trying to imagine how Fräulein Rottenmeier and
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