HEIDI
there was her large bed, and here she was in Frankfurt far, far away from home. And Heidi would often lay her face down on the pillow and weep long and quietly so that no one might hear her.
Heidi’s unhappiness did not escape the grandmother’s notice. She let some days go by to see if the child grew brighter and lost her downcast appearance. But as matters did not mend, and she saw that many mornings Heidi had evidently been crying before she came downstairs, she took her again into her room one day, and drawing the child to her said, “Now tell me, Heidi, what is the matter; are you in trouble?”
But Heidi, afraid if she told the truth that the grandmother would think her ungrateful, and would then leave off being so kind to her, answered, “I can’t tell you.”
“Well, could you tell Clara about it?”
“Oh, no, I cannot tell any one,” said Heidi in so positive a tone, and with a look of such trouble on her face, that the grandmother felt full of pity for the child.
“Then, dear child, let me tell you what to do: you know that when we are in great trouble, and cannot speak about it to anybody, we must turn to God and pray Him to help, for He can deliver us from every care that oppresses us. You under stand that, do you not? You say your prayers every evening to the dear God in Heaven, and thank Him for all He has done for you, and pray Him to keep you from all evil, do you not?”
“No, I never say any prayers,” answered Heidi.
“Have you never been taught to pray, Heidi? do you not know even what it means?”
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