HEIDI
and the fir trees had shaken off their burden of snow and were again merrily waving their branches in the air, Heidi ran backwards and forwards with delight first to the goat-shed then to the fir trees, and then to the hut door, in order to let her grandfather know how much larger a piece of green there was under the trees, and then would run off to look again, for she could hardly wait till everything was green and the full beautiful summer had clothed the mountain with grass and flowers. As Heidi was thus running about one sunny March morning, and had just jumped over the water-trough for the tenth time at least, she nearly fell backwards into it with fright, for there in front of her, looking gravely at her, stood an old gentleman dressed in black. When he saw how startled she was, he said in a kind voice, “Don’t be afraid of me, for I am very fond of children. Shake hands! You must be the Heidi I have heard of; where is your grandfather?”
“He is sitting by the table, making round wooden spoons,” Heidi informed him, as she opened the door.
He was the old village pastor from Dörfli who had been a neighbor of Uncle’s when he lived down there, and had known him well. He stepped inside the hut, and going up to the old man, who was bending over his work, said, “Good-morning, neighbor.”
The grandfather looked up in surprise, and then rising said Good-morning” in return. He pushed his chair towards the visitor as he continued, “If you do not mind a wooden seat there is one for you.”
The pastor sat down. “It is a long time since I have seen you, neighbor,” he said.
[86]
