CHAPTER VIII

THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS

In the home on the hill they talked often of the good joiner and Wiseli. Mrs. Ritter went to see them every morning, and she always brought encouraging news home with her. Otto and Miezi were planning a surprise for Andreas and Wiseli in which they meant to celebrate their friend's recovery. To-day, however, they had a celebration in their own home, for it was their father's birthday. It had seemed like a real holiday to the children ever since they got up in the morning, and now they were about to enjoy the birthday feast. They were all in the best of humor. After the first course had been served, there was placed before Mrs. Ritter a covered dish which, when the cover had been removed, displayed a cabbage head looking as fresh and natural as if it had just come from the garden.

"That dish is certainly pretty enough to be praised," said the father; "but really I was expecting to see something else, Marie. You know at every feast I am on the lookout for my favorite vegetable, the artichoke. Isn't it on the menu to-day?"

"There," broke in Miezi, "that is just what he called me! Twice he called me that, and he had his big stick raised like this, and he was going--"

Miezi had her arm raised to illustrate the man's attempt to strike her, when she suddenly caught the warning look from her brother across the table, and remembered her promise not to tell her parents about what had happened that night. In her great confusion her face grew scarlet, and she pushed her arms as far as possible under the table.

"I am surprised to have my birthday celebration take this turn," said the father. "On one side of the table my daughter speaks of something about which we have heard nothing, while, on the opposite side, my son kicks my leg until it feels as if it might be black and blue. I should like to know, Otto, where you learned such gymnastics."

It was now Otto's turn to blush, which he did to the roots of his hair. He had intended to hush his sister with the kicks, but evidently he had not struck where he intended. For a time he was too embarrassed to look his father in the face.

"Well, Miezchen, what was the rest of the story which Otto did not allow you to finish? You say he called you a dreadful name, raised his stick at you, and--?"

"Then, then," began Miezi,--she realized, now, that she had told, and must sacrifice the candy rooster in consequence,--"then he didn't kill me, anyway."

The father laughed heartily. "It was good of him not to kill my little girl, but what then?"

"That was all."

"The story has a happy ending," said the father. "The stick remains poised in the air and little Miezchen comes home as the artichoke. Now let us forget everything except that this is my birthday and that we are to do justice to the feast provided."

Otto, however, still felt somewhat disturbed, and after dinner went off to a corner by himself. He seemed to be reading, but instead, he was thinking about what had happened, for he was very sure that his mother would never again let him go with the others to coast by moonlight.

Miezi went to her room to take a last look at the candy rooster with which she must part, now that she had failed to keep her promise. Mrs. Ritter was seated at the window trying to explain to herself the strange actions of her children. She became more and more restless as she thought about it, and finally went in search of Miezi, whom she found at the foot of the bed in a very unhappy state of mind.

"Miezchen, mamma has come to have a talk with you. I want you to tell me when it was that you were frightened by that man."

"The night that we went coasting by moonlight. I know he called me that word papa used at the table to-night."

Mrs. Ritter now went to find her husband. "I should like to tell you something, Otto," she said.

The colonel laid his newspaper aside and looked inquiringly at his wife.

"I have been thinking about the scene at the table to-night, and I have come to the conclusion that the children were frightened by the same man that tried to kill the joiner. I have just found out from Miezi that it happened the evening I gave the children permission to coast by moonlight, and that was the very night the joiner was hurt. It is much more likely that the man called her 'aristocrat' than 'artichoke.' If so, I should say that the man was Andreas's brother. He is the only one in the world who would think of using that word, and I am sure the only one who would hurt Andreas. Don't you think it likely that it was Andreas's brother George?"

"It does seem probable," answered the colonel, thoughtfully; "I will see what can be done about it." He rang for the coachman to bring the carriage, and a few moments later he was on his way to the city.

For several days Colonel Ritter went frequently to confer with the police, but it was not until two weeks later that they succeeded in getting results. One evening, when the Colonel returned to his home, he told the members of his family that the thief had been captured, and that it was, as Mrs. Ritter had surmised, the joiner's own brother George. He had been living in the near-by hotels, confident that no one had seen him in his home town, because he had passed through in the night.

He denied knowing anything about the affair when he was first arrested, but when told that Colonel Ritter had weighty evidence against him, he inferred that he must have been recognized after all. He lost his temper, and said that of course those "aristocrats" would like to make trouble for him. In answer to questions he said that he had just returned from service in the Neapolitan War; and that he had intended to go to his brother to borrow some money, but finding him with the large sum before him, he saw the opportunity to get it all. It had been his intention merely to knock his brother senseless, so that he could make his escape, and he protested that he had never wished to kill him.

Fortunately, most of the money was still in George's possession. It was recovered, and he was put in prison.

This story caused quite a commotion in the little town, especially among the school children.

Several nights after George had been arrested, Otto came home very much excited. Although Joggi had been set free as soon as George had confessed, he was still too frightened to take advantage of his liberty. He thought that he should be killed if he went out. Finally the police authorities turned him out by force, but he ran quickly to a near-by barn where he hid himself in the farthest corner. Here he had remained for three days, and the farmer had threatened to take the pitchfork to him if he did not go away soon.

"That is very sad indeed," said Mrs. Ritter, when Otto had finished telling her about it. "The poor fellow suffers because his mind is too feeble to understand what is said to him. It is hard that an innocent man should be made so miserable. If you had told me that night about what had happened to Miezi, we should not have caused Joggi so much suffering. You had better try to do something for him, since you might have spared him all this."

"I will give him my red candy rooster," said Miezi, sympathetically.

"A red candy rooster to a grown-up man!" laughed Otto. "You had better keep it, since you are so fond of it."

"They say he has had no food, mother," Otto continued. "I shall be glad to take him some dinner."

Mrs. Ritter gave her consent, so the children packed a basket with good things to eat, and started for the barn to find Joggi. He was there, crouched in the corner as they had supposed.

Otto opened the basket for him to see and said, "Come out here, Joggi, and you shall have all there is in this basket."

Joggi did not move.

"Come, Joggi," continued Otto, "you know the farmer may take the pitchfork to you if you stay here."

At this Joggi screamed and tried to get farther back in his corner.

Miezi was very sorry for the poor man. Going up to him, she whispered in his ear: "My papa will not let them hurt you, so you had better come along with me. I brought you something from Santa Claus. See!" She held out the candy rooster to him as she spoke.

These whispered words restored Joggi's confidence. He looked fearlessly about, took the candy rooster from her hand, and began to laugh in his old way. He allowed Miezi to lead him out, but he would not touch the basket, so they let him follow them home.

Mrs. Ritter was relieved to see Joggi with them. She opened the door for them, and had a good supper placed before the hungry man, saying, "Eat all you want, Joggi, and be happy."

Joggi ate heartily and seemed as pleased as a child over the rooster, which he held constantly. As soon as he had finished eating, he rose to go home, and they noticed that he looked at the rooster and laughed as he went, his great fright apparently forgotten.

For several days Mrs. Ritter did not see the joiner. It seemed a longer time to her, for so much had happened in the meantime; she had not worried about him, however, because she knew that he was well cared for.

The colonel had told Andreas about his brother's confession. "It is like him to do things in that fashion," said the joiner. "I would gladly have given it all to him, but he always takes the wrong way to get what he wants."

One bright sunny morning Mrs. Ritter went tripping down the hill like a schoolgirl. She was going to see Andreas, and she had some plans in mind, the carrying out of which would give her a great deal of pleasure.

When she reached his house and entered as usual, she was surprised to see Wiseli run out of the room in tears, and the joiner sitting in the deepest gloom, as if a great sorrow had befallen him.

"What has happened?" she exclaimed, as she stood still in astonishment.

"Mrs. Ritter," he faltered, "I wish that the child had never come to my house."

"What!" she exclaimed, more amazed than ever. "Wiseli? What can she have done?"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, don't misunderstand me, Mrs. Ritter!" he cried. "It is only because she has been here and has made a little paradise out of my humble home that I am so unhappy. They have sent for her the second time, and she has to go back to Beechgreen. I shall be miserable without her. You don't know how hard it is for me to let her go. She would rather stay with me, too, so we are both unhappy over it. I would give the uncle all I have saved in the last thirty years, if he would only let me keep her."

Mrs. Ritter sighed in relief and said, "I should do nothing of the sort; I know of a much better way."

He looked at her questioningly.

"I should adopt Wiseli, if I were you and wanted her. Then you will be her father and she will be your child and heir. Wouldn't that be a better way, Andreas?"

Andreas grasped Mrs. Ritter's hand as he asked eagerly, "Is such a thing possible?"

"Yes"; said Mrs. Ritter, "I thought that you might want to keep her, so I have been looking the matter up, and Mr. Ritter is at home now, so that, in case you want to settle the legal part of it, he can take you to the city immediately, for you are not yet able to go by yourself. Then you will have nothing to worry about, and you can tell Wiseli after you come back."

It was the first time that she had ever seen the joiner excited. He began to get into his overcoat as she rose to go.

"Are you sure," he asked, "that we can get the matter settled to-day?"

"Yes, I am sure," she replied, "and I will send the carriage over at once."

A few moments later Wiseli noticed the Ritter carriage drive up to the gate and the coachman come to assist the joiner down the walk. She was surprised to see him get into the carriage, for he had not told her that he was going for a drive. "Perhaps," she thought, "he did not feel like telling me, because this is the last day that I can be with him."

Wiseli had the dinner ready at the usual hour, but the joiner was not there. She did not wish to eat without him, so she waited and waited, but still he did not come. Finally, she fell asleep. She dreamed that she was again at her uncle's home and that she was very unhappy. She was not aware of the beautiful evening glow in the sunset which promised a pleasant to-morrow.

Wiseli started from her slumber when the door opened. It was the joiner, who had just returned, and his face was as radiant as the sunset. He had been in such a different mood in the morning that Wiseli stared in astonishment.

"I have good news, Wiseli," he said, as he hung up his hat and stepped about as lightly as a boy. "It is all settled. You are legally my child, and I am your father. Call me father this very minute, my little girl."

All the color had left Wiseli's cheeks, and she stood uncomprehending and speechless.

"Of course you don't know what I am talking about," he said. "I begin at the wrong end because I am so glad. This is what has happened, Wiseli: the proper authorities have to-day given me the legal right to take care of you. I have been to the city and the matter is arranged, so that we really belong to each other. You shall never go back to your uncle's again, for now you have a home of your own."

His meaning dawned at length upon Wiseli, although it seemed too good to be true. Impulsively she sprang into his arms. "Then I can always call you father," she said. "I know who knew that this was going to happen," she added.

"Who knew it would happen, Wiseli?"

"My mother knew it would."

"Your mother! How, Wiseli?"

"In my dream I saw the path that leads to your house, and she was pointing to it and saying, 'See, Wiseli, that is your path.' So mother must have known it," she added. "Don't you think that she helped to bring it about, father?"

The good man could not answer, for his heart was full and his eyes were dimmed with tears, but he looked at Wiseli so lovingly that she understood.

Suddenly the door was thrown open, and Otto fairly sprang into the room. He threw up his cap and shouted, "Hurrah! We've won, and Wiseli is free."

Miezi came in next, almost breathless, and as she held the door open she cried, "See what is coming for the celebration!"

There was the baker's boy carrying so large a board on his head that he stuck fast in the doorway, and they had to help him to get it into the house.

It was explained that Otto and Miezi, having permission to order as large a cake as they wished for the occasion, had told the baker to make them the largest he could, so he had baked one just the size of his oven.

Trina came with loaded baskets which contained a well-browned roast and tempting vegetables, for Mrs. Ritter knew that the joiner had not been able to eat his dinner, and surmised rightly that Wiseli would not have eaten much by herself. Trina prepared things on the table so that they could all sit down. It was a joyous occasion for every one present. The feast was followed with merriment and song until a late hour.

At last Trina stood ready to return, and the guests rose to go.

"To-night you have brought the feast to us," said the joiner, "but one week from to-night I invite you all to come back to a feast that I wish to provide in honor of my little daughter."

Then they shook hands in the pleasant anticipation of coming together again soon, and in general satisfaction that their little friend had at last a home of her own. Wiseli followed Otto to the door and said: "I thank you a thousand times, Otto, for all that you have done for me. Chappi never hurt me again after you choked him, because he was afraid that I might tell you, so you see how much reason I have to be grateful."

"I am much more indebted to you," said Otto. "I haven't had to do that work in the schoolroom again, and that I disliked much more than punishing Chappi, so we shall have to call it even."

Miezi, who had been the gayest of the party all the evening, waved her hand in answer to the last farewell, and then the guests were lost to view. Joiner Andreas sat down by the window in his accustomed place, but Wiseli first restored order to dishes and furniture. When she had finished that task, she went to her father and said: "Shouldn't you like to hear the verses that mother taught me? They have been running in my mind all the evening, and I don't intend ever to forget them."

"I shall be very glad to hear them," said the joiner, as he took her on his knee. Then Wiseli, leaning on his shoulder and looking out to the stars, repeated with joyful heart:

"Commit thou all thy ways And all that grieves thy heart To Him whose endless days Shall grace and strength impart.

"He gives to wind and wave The power to be still; For thee He'll surely save A place to work His will."

From this time on the little home of the joiner, nestling among the flowers, remained one of the happiest in the world. Wherever Wiseli went, people were so polite to her that she was quite astonished, for they had scarcely noticed her before. Her aunt and uncle Gotti never passed the house without coming in to see her, and they always invited her to make them a visit.

Wiseli was very much relieved to see their friendly manner, for she had had secret fears as to how they would accept the situation. She was glad to live in peace with all the people about her, but she said to herself, "Otto and the rest of the Ritter family were kind to me when I was unhappy and poor, but the others paid no attention to me until my father took me, so I know where to look for my real friends."

PRONOUNCING VOCABULARY OF PROPER NAMES

The vowels are marked as in Webster's dictionary.

In unaccented syllables, long vowels and ä should not be pronounced too strongly; but they should not become indistinct, especially in the names around Lake Garda (both persons and places). In unaccented syllables the vowel [~e] should be very light and rather indistinct; a very common pronunciation, though not the most exact, is to sound this vowel in German names like the _a_ in _sofa_.

Aar (är) Aloise (ä l[=o][=e]'z[~e]) Andreas (än dr[=a]'äs) Bergamo (b[ve]r'gä m[=o]) Bern (b[ve]rn) Chappi (käp'p[=e]) Como (c[=o]'m[=o]) Desenzano (d[=a] s[ve]n dzä'n[=o]) Engadine ([ve]n gä d[=e]n') Enrico ([ve]n r[=e]'c[=o]) Garda (gär'dä) Gotti (g[vo]t't[=e]) Hans (häns) Heimatlos (h[=i]'mät l[=o]s): homeless Joggi (y[vo]g'g[=e]) Kunzli (kunts'l[=e]) Maloja (mä l[=o]'yä) Maria (mä r[=e]'ä) Marie (mä r[=e]') Menotti (m[=a] n[vo]t't[=e]) Miez (m[=e]ts) Miezchen (m[=e]ts'ch[ve]n) Miezi (m[=e]t's[=e]) Peschiera (p[ve] skyâ'rä) Rico (r[=e]'c[=o]) Ritter (r[vi]t'ter) Riva (r[=e]'vä) Rudi (r[u:]'d[=e]) St. Gall (saint gäl) St. Moritz (saint m[=o]'r[vi]ts) Sils (z[vi]ls) Sils-Maria (z[vi]ls-mä r[=e]'ä) Silvio (s[=e]l'vy[=o]) Stineli (st[=e]'n[~e] l[=e]) Trevillo (tr[=a] v[=e]l'l[=o]) Trina (tr[=e]'nä) Trudt (tr[u:]t) Una sera ([u:]'nä s[=a]'rä): one evening Urschli (ur'shl[=e]) Wiseli (v[=e]'z[~e] l[=e]) Wisi (v[=e]'z[=e])

Transcriber's Note:

Not all letters can be shown as in the original text. The following convention has been used to indicate letters which can not be represented (where x denotes the letter).

[vx] letter with caron above [=x] letter with macron above [~x] letter with tilde above [x:] letter with dieresis below