THE VISIT TO GRANDMOTHER
kill us. And there is not a creature to mend anything for us, for Peter does not understand such work.”
“But why cannot you see, grandmother, that the shutter is loose. Look, there it goes again! see, that one there!” And Heidi pointed to the particular shutter.
“Alas, child, it it not only that I cannot see—I can see nothing, nothing,” said the grandmother in a voice of lamentation.
“But if I were to go outside and put back the shutter so that you had more light, then you could see, grandmother?”
“No, no, not even then, no one can make it light for me again.”
“But if you were to go outside among all the white snow, then surely you would find it light; just come with me, grandmother, and I will show you.” Heidi took hold of the old woman’s hand to lead her along, for she was beginning to feel quite distressed at the thought of her being without light.
“Let me be, dear child; it is always dark for me now; whether in snow or sun, no light can penetrate my eyes.”
“But surely it does in summer, grandmother,” said Heidi, more and more anxious to find some way out of the trouble, “when the hot sun is shining down again, and he says good-night to the mountains, and they all turn on fire, and the yellow flowers shine like gold, then, you will see, it will be bright and beautiful for you again.”
“Ah, child, I shall see the mountains on fire or the yellow flowers no more; it will never be light for me again on earth, never.”
At these words Heidi broke into loud crying. In her distress
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