HEIDI
ran in all directions, and Peter had to follow whistling and calling and swinging his stick to get all the runaways together again.
“Where have you got to now, Heidi?” he called out somewhat crossly.
“Here,” called back a voice from somewhere. Peter could see no one, for Heidi was seated on the ground at the foot of a small hill thickly overgrown with sweet smelling prunella; the whole air seemed filled with its fragrance, and Heidi thought she had never smelt anything so delicious. She sat surrounded by the flowers, drawing in deep breaths of the scented air.
“Come along here!” called Peter again. “You are not to fall over the rocks, your grandfather gave orders that you were not to do so.”
“Where are the rocks?” asked Heidi, answering him back. But she did not move from her seat, for the scent of the flowers seemed sweeter to her with every breath of wind that wafted it towards her.
“Up above, right up above. We have a long way to go yet, so come along! And on the topmost peak of all the old bird of prey sits and croaks.”
That did it. Heidi immediately sprang to her feet and ran up to Peter with her apron full of flowers.
“You have got enough now,” said the boy as they began climbing up again together. “You will stay here forever if you go on picking, and if you gather all the flowers now there will be none for to-morrow.”
This last argument seemed a convincing one to Heidi, and moreover her apron was already so full that there was hardly
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