Heidi | Page 3

"The Little Village." It was the elder girl's
home town, and therefore she was greeted from nearly every house;
people called to her from windows and doors, and very often from the
road. But, answering questions and calls as she went by, the girl did not
loiter on her way and only stood still when she reached the end of the
hamlet. There a few cottages lay scattered about, from the furthest of
which a voice called out to her through an open door: "Deta, please
wait one moment! I am coming with you, if you are going further up."
When the girl stood still to wait, the child instantly let go her hand and
promptly sat down on the ground.
"Are you tired, Heidi?" Deta asked the child.
"No, but hot," she replied.
"We shall be up in an hour, if you take big steps and climb with all
your little might!" Thus the elder girl tried to encourage her small
companion.
A stout, pleasant-looking woman stepped out of the house and joined
the two. The child had risen and wandered behind the old
acquaintances, who immediately started gossiping about their friends in
the neighborhood and the people of the hamlet generally.
"Where are you taking the child, Deta?" asked the newcomer. "Is she
the child your sister left?"

"Yes," Deta assured her; "I am taking her up to the Alm-Uncle and
there I want her to remain."
"You can't really mean to take her there Deta. You must have lost your
senses, to go to him. I am sure the old man will show you the door and
won't even listen to what you say."
"Why not? As he's her grandfather, it is high time he should do
something for the child. I have taken care of her until this summer and
now a good place has been offered to me. The child shall not hinder me
from accepting it, I tell you that!"
"It would not be so hard, if he were like other mortals. But you know
him yourself. How could he look after a child, especially such a little
one? She'll never get along with him, I am sure of that!--But tell me of
your prospects."
"I am going to a splendid house in Frankfurt. Last summer some people
went off to the baths and I took care of their rooms. As they got to like
me, they wanted to take me along, but I could not leave. They have
come back now and have persuaded me to go with them."
"I am glad I am not the child!" exclaimed Barbara with a shudder.
"Nobody knows anything about the old man's life up there. He doesn't
speak to a living soul, and from one year's end to the other he keeps
away from church. People get out of his way when he appears once in a
twelve-month down here among us. We all fear him and he is really
just like a heathen or an old Indian, with those thick grey eyebrows and
that huge uncanny beard. When he wanders along the road with his
twisted stick we are all afraid to meet him alone."
"That is not my fault," said Deta stubbornly. "He won't do her any harm;
and if he should, he is responsible, not I."
"I wish I knew what weighs on the old man's conscience. Why are his
eyes so fierce and why does he live up there all alone? Nobody ever
sees him and we hear many strange things about him. Didn't your sister
tell you anything, Deta?"

"Of course she did, but I shall hold my tongue. He would make me pay
for it if I didn't."
Barbara had long been anxious to know something about the old uncle
and why he lived apart from everybody. Nobody had a good word for
him, and when people talked about him, they did not speak openly but
as if they were afraid. She could not even explain to herself why he was
called the Alm-Uncle. He could not possibly be the uncle of all the
people in the village, but since everybody spoke of him so, she did the
same. Barbara, who had only lived in the village since her marriage,
was glad to get some information from her friend. Deta had been bred
there, but since her mother's death had gone away to earn her
livelihood.
She confidentially seized Deta's arm and said: "I wish you would tell
me the truth about him, Deta; you know it all--people only gossip. Tell
me, what has happened to the old man to turn everybody against him so?
Did he always hate his fellow-creatures?"
"I cannot tell you whether he always did, and that for a very good
reason. He being sixty years old, and