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"Heidi" is a classic novel written by Swiss author Johanna Spyri. It was originally published in 1881 in two parts: "Heidi's Years of Learning and Travel" ("Heidis Lehr- und Wanderjahre") and "Heidi Makes Use of What She Has Learned" ("Heidi kann brauchen, was es gelernt hat"). The story has since become one of the most well-loved and enduring children's books, captivating readers of all ages with its heartwarming narrative and picturesque portrayal of the Swiss Alps.

The novel tells the story of Heidi, a young orphaned girl who is sent to live with her reclusive grandfather in the Swiss Alps. Her grandfather, who is initially gruff and distant, gradually warms up to her and they form a deep bond. Heidi's innocence, kindness, and love for the mountains begin to transform the lives of those around her, including her grandfather and a young disabled girl named Clara, whom she befriends in Frankfurt.
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CHAPTER XIV
THE COAT WITH THE SILVER BUTTONS

The next afternoon Heidi was standing under the waving trees waiting for her grandfather, who was going down with her to grandmother's, and then on to Doerfli to fetch her trunk. She was longing to know how grandmother had enjoyed her white bread and impatient to see and hear her again. The grandfather came out, gave a look round, and then called to her in a cheerful voice, "Well, now we can be off."
It was Saturday, a day when Alm-Uncle made everything clean and tidy inside and outside the house; he had devoted the morning to this work so as to be able to accompany Heidi in the afternoon, and the whole place was now as spick and span as he liked to see it. They parted at the grandmother's cottage and Heidi ran in. The grandmother had heard her steps approaching and greeted her as she crossed the threshold, "Is it you, child? have you come again?"
Then she took hold of Heidi's hand and held it fast in her own, for she still seemed to fear that the child might be torn from her again. She told Heidi how much she had enjoyed the white bread, and how much stronger she felt already for having been able to eat it, and then Peter's mother went on and said she was sure that if her mother could eat like that for a week she would get back some of her strength.
"I know, Grandmother, what I will do," said Heidi eagerly, "I will write to Clara, and she will send me as many rolls again, if not twice as many as you have already, for I had ever such a large heap in the wardrobe, and when they were all taken away she promised to give me as many back, and she would do so I am sure."
"That is a good idea," said Brigitta; "but then, they would get hard and stale. The baker in Doerfli makes the white rolls, and if we could get some of those--but I can only just manage to pay for the black bread."
A further bright thought came to Heidi, and with a look of joy, "Oh, I have lots of money, Grandmother," she cried gleefully, skipping about the room in her delight, "and I know now what I will do with it. You must have a fresh white roll every day, and two on Sunday, and Peter can bring them up from Doerfli."
"No, no, child!" answered the grandmother, "I cannot let you do that; the money was not given to you for that purpose; you must give it to your grandfather, and he will tell you how you are to spend it."
But Heidi was not to be hindered in her kind intentions, and she continued to jump about, saying over and over again in a tone of exultation, "Now, grandmother can have a roll every day and will grow quite strong again--and, Oh, Grandmother," she suddenly exclaimed, "if you get strong everything will grow light again for you; perhaps it's only because you are weak that it is dark." The grandmother said nothing, she did not wish to spoil the child's pleasure. As she went jumping about Heidi suddenly caught sight of the grandmother's song book, and another happy idea struck her, "Grandmother, I can also read now, would you like me to read you one of your hymns from your old book?"
"Oh, yes," said the grandmother, surprised and delighted; "but can you really read, child, really?"
Heidi climbed on a chair and lifted down the book, bringing a cloud of dust with it, for it had lain untouched on the shelf for a long time. She wiped it off and sat herself down on a stool beside the old woman, and asked her which hymn she should read.
"What you like, child, what you like," and the grandmother pushed her spinning-wheel aside and sat in eager expectation waiting for Heidi to begin. "Here is one about the sun, Grandmother, I will read you that." And Heidi began, reading with more and more warmth of expression as she went on,
The morning breaks, And warm and bright The earth lies still In the golden light- For Dawn has scattered the clouds of night.
God's handiwork Is seen around, Things great and small To His praise abound- Where are the signs of His love not found?
Joy shall be ours In that garden blest Where after storm We find our rest- I wait in peace--God's time is best.
The grandmother sat with folded hands and a look of indescribable joy on her face, such as Heidi had never seen there before, although at the same time the tears were running down her cheeks.
"Ah, Heidi, that brings light to the heart! What comfort you have brought me!" And the old woman kept on repeating the glad words, while Heidi beamed with happiness.

Some one now knocked at the window and Heidi looked up and saw her grandfather beckoning her to come home with him. She promised the grandmother before leaving her that she would be with her the next day, and even if she went out with Peter she would only spend half the day with him, for the thought that she might make it light and happy again for the grandmother gave her the greatest pleasure, greater even than being out on the sunny mountain with the flowers and goats. Heidi was so full of her morning's doings that she began at once to tell her grandfather all about them: how the white bread could be brought every day from Doerfli if there was money for it, and how the grandmother had all at once grown stronger and happier, and light had come to her. "If the grandmother won't take the money, Grandfather, will you give it all to me, and I can then give Peter enough every day to buy a roll and two on Sunday?"
"But how about the bed?" said her grandfather. "It would be nice for you to have a proper bed, and there would then be plenty for the bread."
But Heidi gave her grandfather no peace till he consented to do what she wanted; she slept a great deal better, she said, on her bed of hay than on her fine pillowed bed in Frankfurt. So at last he said, "The money is yours, do what you like with it; you can buy bread for grandmother for years to come with it."
Heidi shouted for joy at the thought that grandmother would never need to eat hard black bread any more, and "Oh, Grandfather!" she said, "everything is happier now than it has ever been in our lives before!" and she sang and skipped along, holding her grandfather's hand as light-hearted as a bird. But all at once she grew quiet and said, "If God had let me come at once, as I prayed, then everything would have been different, I should only have had a little bread to bring to grandmother, and I should not have been able to read, which is such a comfort to her. So we will pray every day, won't we, Grandfather, and never forgot Him again, or else He may forget us."
"And supposing one does forget Him?" said the grandfather in a low voice.
"Then everything goes wrong, for God lets us then go where we like, and when we get poor and miserable and begin to cry about it no one pities us, but they say, You ran away from God, and so God, who could have helped you, left you to yourself."
"That is true, Heidi; where did you learn that?"
"From Grandmamma Sesemann; she explained it all to me."
The grandfather walked on for a little while without speaking, then he said, as if following his own train of thought: "And if it once is so, it is so always; no one can go back, and he whom God has forgotten, is forgotten for ever."
"Oh, no Grandfather, we can go back, for grandmamma told me so, and so it was in the beautiful tale in my book--but you have not heard that yet; but we shall be home directly now and then I will read it you, and you will see how beautiful it is." And in her eagerness Heidi struggled faster and faster up the steep ascent, and they were no sooner at the top than she let go her grandfather's hand and ran into the hut. The grandfather slung the basket off his shoulders in which he had brought up a part of the contents of the trunk, which was too heavy to carry up as it was. Then he sat down on his seat and began thinking.
Heidi soon came running out with her book under her arm and in a sympathetic voice began to read the story of the Prodigal Son.
"Isn't that a beautiful tale, Grandfather," said Heidi, as the latter continued to sit without speaking, for she had expected him to express pleasure and astonishment.
"You are right, Heidi; it is a beautiful tale," he replied, but he looked so grave as he said it that Heidi grew silent herself and sat looking quietly at her pictures.
A few hours later, as she lay fast asleep in her bed, the grandfather went up the ladder and put his lamp down near her bed so that the light fell on the sleeping child. Her hands were still folded as if she had fallen asleep saying her prayers, an expression of peace and trust lay on the little face, and something in it seemed to appeal to the grandfather, for he stood a long time gazing down at her without speaking. At last he too folded his hands, and with bowed head said in a low voice, "Father, I have sinned against heaven and before Thee and am not worthy to be called Thy son." And two large tears rolled down the old man's cheeks.
Next morning while the sound of a few early bells was ringing up from the valley the grandfather called to Heidi to put on her best frock for they were going to church together.

She was not long getting ready for it was an unusual summons from her grandfather. She put on her smart Frankfurt dress and soon went down, but when she saw her grandfather she stood still, gazing at him in astonishment. "Why, Grandfather!" she exclaimed, "I never saw you look like that before! and the coat, with the silver buttons! Oh, you do look nice in your Sunday coat!"
The old man smiled and replied, "And you too; now come along!" He took Heidi's hand and together they walked down the mountain side. The bells were ringing in every direction now, sounding louder and fuller as they neared the valley, and Heidi listened to them with delight. "Hark, Grandfather! it's like a great festival!"
The congregation had already assembled and the singing had begun when Heidi and her grandfather entered the church at Doerfli and sat down at the back. But before the hymn was over every one was nudging his neighbor and whispering, "Do you see? Alm-Uncle is in church!"
Soon everybody in the church knew of Alm-Uncle's presence, and the women kept on turning round to look and quite lost their place in the singing. At the close of the service Alm-Uncle took Heidi by the hand, and on leaving the church made his way towards the pastor's house; the rest of the congregation looked curiously after him, some even following to see whether he went inside the pastor's house, which he did. Then they collected in groups and talked over this strange event, keeping their eyes on the pastor's door, watching to see whether Alm-Uncle came out looking angry and quarrelsome, or as if the interview had been a peaceful one, for they could not imagine what had brought the old man down, and what it all meant. Some, however, adopted a new tone and expressed their opinion that Alm-Uncle was not so bad after all as they thought, "for see how carefully he took the little one by the hand." And others responded and said they had always thought people had exaggerated about him, that if he was so downright bad he would be afraid to go inside the pastor's house.
Meanwhile Alm-Uncle had gone into the pastor's house and knocked at the study door. The pastor came out and shook hands warmly with him, and Alm-Uncle was unable at first to speak, for he had not expected such a friendly reception. At last he collected himself and said, "I have come to ask you, pastor, to forget the words I spoke to you when you called on me, and to beg you not to owe me ill-will for having been so obstinately set against your well-meant advice. You were right, and I was wrong, but I have now made up my mind to follow your advice and to find a place for myself at Doerfli for the winter, for the child is not strong enough to stand the bitter cold up on the mountain. And if the people down here look askance at me, as at a person not to be trusted, I know it is my own fault."
The pastor's kindly eyes shone with pleasure. He pressed the old man's hand in his, and said with emotion, "Neighbor, I am greatly rejoiced. You will not repent coming to live with us again; as for myself you will always be welcome as a dear friend and neighbor, and I look forward to our spending many a pleasant winter evening together and we will find some nice friends too for the little one." And the pastor laid his hand kindly on the child's curly head and took her by the hand as he walked to the door with the old man. He did not say good-bye to him till they were standing outside, so that all the people loitering about saw him shake hands as if parting reluctantly from his best friend. The door had hardly shut behind him before the whole congregation now came forward to greet Alm-Uncle, every one striving to be the first to shake hands with him. Most of his friends accompanied him and Heidi some way up the mountain, and each as they bid him good-bye made him promise that when he next came down he would without fail come and call. As the old man at last stood alone with the child, watching their retreating figures, there was a light upon his face as if reflected from some inner sunshine of heart. Heidi looking up at him with her clear, steady eyes, said, "Grandfather, you look nicer and nicer today, I never saw you quite like that before."
"Do you think so," he answered with a smile. "Well, yes, Heidi, I am happier today than I deserve, happier than I had thought possible; it is good to be at peace with God and man! God was good to me when he sent you to my hut."
When they reached Peter's home the grandfather opened the door and walked straight in. "Good-morning, Grandmother," he said, "I think we shall have to do some more patching up before the autumn winds come."
"Well, if it is not Uncle!" cried the grandmother in pleased surprise. "That I should live to see such a thing! and now I can thank you for all that you have done for me. May God reward you! may God reward you!" She stretched out a trembling hand to him, and the grandfather shook it warmly.

At this moment Peter rushed in, evidently in a great hurry, knocking his head violently against the door in his haste, so that everything in the room rattled. Gasping and breathless he stood still after this and held out a letter. This was another great event, for such a thing had never happened before; the letter was addressed to Heidi and had been delivered at the post-office in Doerfli. They all sat down round the table to hear what was in it, for Heidi opened it at once and read it without hesitation. The letter was from Clara, who wrote that the house had been so dull since Heidi left that she did not know what to do, and she had at last persuaded her father to take her to the baths at Ragatz in the coming autumn; grandmamma had arranged to join them there, and they both were looking forward to paying her and her grandfather a visit. And grandmamma sent a further message to Heidi which was that the latter had done quite right to take the rolls to the grandmother, and so that she might not have to eat them dry, she was sending some coffee, which was already on its way, and grandmamma hoped when she came to the Alm in the autumn that Heidi would take her to see her old friend.
There were exclamations of pleasure and astonishment on hearing this news and the afternoon soon passed in discussing plans for the coming visit.
Then the old man and Heidi started back up the mountain, promising the grandmother that they would come again next day. As they had been greeted with the bells when they made their journey down in the morning, so now they were accompanied by the peaceful evening chimes as they climbed to the hut, which had quite a Sunday-like appearance as it stood bathed in the light of the low evening sun.

CHAPTER XV
A GREAT DISAPPOINTMENT

When Autumn came Clara was not so well and the doctor advised Mr. Sesemann to postpone the visit to Heidi till the following spring.
"I know how you hate to deny your child anything and especially this trip that she has so set her heart upon," said the kind-hearted old doctor, "but you must make up your mind to it, Sesemann. Clara has not had such a bad summer as this last one, for years. Only the worst results would follow from the fatigue of such a journey, and it is out of the question for her. If we want to give the child a chance of recovery we must use the utmost care and watchfulness."
Mr. Sesemann, who had listened to the doctor in sad and submissive silence, now suddenly jumped up. "Doctor," he said, "tell me truly: have you really any hope for her final recovery?"
The doctor shrugged his shoulders. "Very little," he replied quietly. "But, friend, think of my trouble. You still have a beloved child to look for you and greet you on your return home. You do not come back to an empty house and sit down to a solitary meal."
The once bright and cheery doctor was now a broken-hearted man. He could not get over the loss of his daughter who had died some months before, and who had been his sole and constant companion for many years.
Mr. Sesemann, who had been striding up and down the room, suddenly paused beside his friend and laying his hand on his shoulder said: "Doctor, I have an idea. How would it be for you to go, and pay Heidi a visit in our name? You need a change of scene. I cannot bear to see you so sad; you are no longer the same man."
The doctor was taken aback at this sudden proposal and wanted to make objections, but his friend gave him no time to say anything. He was so delighted with his idea, that he seized the doctor by the arm and drew him into Clara's room. She held out her hand to him as he came up to her; he took a seat beside her, and her father also drew up his chair, and taking Clara's hand in his began to talk to her of the Swiss journey and how he himself had looked forward to it. He passed as quickly as he could over the main point that it was now impossible for her to undertake it, for he dreaded the tears that would follow; but he went on without pause to tell her of his new plan, and dwelt on the great benefit it would be to his friend if he could be persuaded to take this holiday.
The tears were indeed swimming in the blue eyes, although Clara struggled to keep them down for her father's sake, but it was a bitter disappointment to give up the journey, the thought of which had been her only joy and solace during the lonely hours of her long illness. She knew, however, that her father would never refuse her a thing unless he was certain that it would be harmful for her. So she swallowed her tears as well as she could and turned her thoughts to the one hope still left her. Taking the doctor's hand and stroking it, she said pleadingly,

"Dear doctor, you will go and see Heidi, won't you? and then you can come and tell me all about it, what it is like up there, and what Heidi and the grandfather, and Peter and the goats do all day. I know them all so well! And then you can take what I want to send to Heidi; I have thought about it all, and also something for the grandmother. Do pray go, dear doctor, and I will take as much cod liver oil as you like."
Whether this promise finally decided the doctor it is impossible to say, but it is certain that he smiled and said,
"Then I must certainly go, Clara, for you will then get as plump and strong as your father and I wish to see you. And have you decided when I am to start?"
"Tomorrow morning--early if possible," replied Clara.
"Yes, she is right," put in Mr. Sesemann, "the sun is shining and the sky is blue, and there is no time to be lost; it is a pity to miss a single one of these days on the mountain."
The doctor could not help laughing. "You will be reproaching me next for not being there already; well I must go and make arrangements for getting off."
But Clara would not let him go until she had given him endless messages for Heidi, and had explained all he was to look at so as to give her an exact description on his return. She would pack the presents she had already bought, and send them to his house later.
The doctor promised to obey Clara's directions in every particular; he would start some time during the following day if not the first thing in the morning, and would bring back a faithful account of his experiences and of all he saw and heard.
He was hastening off when he met Miss Rottermeyer just returning from a walk. He informed her of his intended journey, begging her in his most conciliatory voice to pack up the parcels for Heidi as she alone knew how to pack. And then he took his leave.
Clara quite expected to have a long tussle with Miss Rottermeyer before she would get the latter to consent to sending all the things that she had collected as presents for Heidi. But this time she was mistaken, for Miss Rottermeyer was in a more than usually good temper. She cleared the large table so that all the things for Heidi could be spread out upon it and packed under Clara's own eyes. It was no light job, for the presents were of all shapes and sizes. First there was the little warm cloak with a hood, which had been designed by Clara herself, in order that Heidi during the coming winter might be able to go and see grandmother when she liked, and not have to wait till her grandfather could take her wrapped up in a sack to keep her from freezing. Then came a thick warm shawl for the grandmother, in which she could wrap herself well up and not feel the cold when the wind came sweeping in such terrible gusts round the house. The next object was the large box full of cakes; these were also for the grandmother, that she might have something to eat with her coffee besides bread. An immense sausage was the next article; this had been originally intended for Peter, who never had anything but bread and cheese, but Clara had altered her mind, fearing that in his delight he might eat it all up at once and make himself ill. So she arranged to send it to Brigitta, who could take some for herself and the grandmother and give Peter his portion out by degrees. A packet of tobacco was a present for grandfather, who was so fond of his pipe as he sat resting in the evening. Finally there was a whole lot of mysterious little bags, and parcels, and boxes, which Clara had had especial pleasure in collecting, as each was to be a joyful surprise for Heidi as she opened it. The work came to an end at last, and Clara eyed the big box with pleasure, picturing Heidi's exclamations and jumps of joy and surprise when the huge parcel arrived at the hut.

Sebastian came in, and lifting the package on to his shoulder, carried it off to be forwarded at once to the doctor's house.