ho brought you the flowers?"

At that moment a rustle was heard, and they saw Peter, who was trying
to sneak up behind the trees to avoid the hut. Immediately the old
lady called to him, for she thought that Peter himself had picked the
flowers for her. He must be creeping away out of sheer modesty, the
kind lady thought. To give him his reward, she called:

"Come here, my boy! don't be afraid."

Petrified with fear, Peter stood still. What had gone before had
robbed him of his courage. He thought now that all was over with him.
With his hair standing up on end and his pale face distorted by
anguish, he approached.

"Come straight to me, boy," the old lady encouraged him. "Now tell me,
boy, if you have done that."

In his anxiety, Peter did not see the grandmama's finger that pointed
to the flowers. He only saw the uncle standing near the hut, looking
at him penetratingly, and beside him the policeman, the greatest
horror for him in the world. Trembling in every limb, Peter answered,
"Yes!"

"Well, but what are you so frightened about?"

"Because--because it is broken and can never be mended again," Peter
said, his knees tottering under him.

The grandmama now walked over to the hut: "My dear uncle," she asked
kindly, "is this poor lad out of his mind?"

"Not at all," was the reply; "only the boy was the wind which blew
away the wheel-chair. He is expecting the punishment he well
deserves."

Grandmama was very much surprised, for she vowed that Peter looked far
from wicked. Why should he have destroyed the chair? The uncle told
her that he had noticed many signs of anger in the boy since Clara's
advent on the Alp. He assured her that he had suspected the boy from
the beginning.

"My dear uncle," the old lady said with animation, "we must not punish
him further. We must be just. It was very hard on him when Clara
robbed him of Heidi, who is and was his greatest treasure. When he had
to sit alone day after day, it roused him to a passion which drove him
to this wicked deed. It was rather foolish, but we all get so when we
get angry."

The lady walked over to the boy again, who was still quivering with
fear.

Sitting down on the bench, she began:

"Come, Peter, I'll tell you something. Stop trembling and listen. You
pushed the chair down, to destroy it. You knew very well that it was
wicked and deserved punishment. You tried very hard to conceal it, did
you not? But if somebody thinks that nobody knows