ANOTHER GRANDMOTHER
ters grew alive and turned into men and things and exciting stories. That same evening Heidi found the large book with the beautiful pictures lying on her plate when she took her place at table, and when she looked questioningly at the grandmother, the latter nodded kindly to her and said, “Yes, it’s yours now.”
“Mine, to keep always? even when I go home?” said Heidi, blushing with pleasure.
“Yes, of course, yours forever,” the grandmother assured her. “To-morrow we will begin to read it.”
“But you are not going home yet, Heidi, not for years,” put in Clara. “When grandmother goes away, I shall want you to stay on with me.”
When Heidi went to her room that night she had another look at her book before going to bed, and from that day forth her chief pleasure was to read the tales which belonged to the beautiful pictures over and over again. If the grandmother said, as they were sitting together in the evening, “Now Heidi will read aloud to us,” Heidi was delighted, for reading was no trouble to her now, and when she read the tales aloud the scenes seemed to grow more beautiful and distinct, and then grandmother would explain and tell her more about them still.
Still the picture she liked best was the one of the shepherd leaning on his staff with his flock around him in the midst of the green pasture, for he was now at home and happy, following his father’s sheep and goats. Then came the picture where he was seen far away from his father’s house, obliged to look after the swine, and he had grown pale and thin from the husks which were all he had to eat. Even the sun seemed here to be less bright and everything looked gray and misty. But there was
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