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 quite reconciled in spirit and gave vent to no angry pantomime.

September had drawn to its close, and now one morning the doctor appeared looking less cheerful than usual. It was his last day, he said, as he must return to Frankfurt, but he was grieved at having to say good-bye to the mountain, where he had begun to feel quite at home. Alm-Uncle, on his side, greatly regretted the departure of his guest, and Heidi had been now accustomed for so long to see her good friend every day that she could hardly believe the time had suddenly come to separate. She looked up at him in doubt, taken by surprise, but there was no help, he must go. So he bid farewell to the old man and asked that Heidi might go with him part of the return way, and Heidi took his hand and went down the mountain with him, still unable to grasp the idea that he was going for good. After some distance the doctor stood still, and passing his hand over the child’s curly head said, “Now, Heidi, you must go back, and I must say good-bye! If only I could take you with me to Frankfurt and keep you there!”

The picture of Frankfurt rose before the child’s eyes, its rows of endless houses, its hard streets, and even the vision of Fräulein Rottenmeier and Tinette, and she answered hesitatingly, “I would rather that you came back to us.”

“Yes, you are right, that would be better. But now goodbye, Heidi.” The child put her hand in his and looked up at him; the kind eyes looking down on her had tears in them. Then the doctor tore himself away and quickly continued his descent.

Heidi remained standing without moving. The friendly eyes