As soon as the children were alone again, Heidi asked, "How can one see out from here, and look right down on to the ground?" "You must open the window and look out," replied Clara amused. "But the windows won't open," responded Heidi sadly. "Yes, they will," Clara assured her. "You cannot open them, nor I either, but when you see Sebastian you can ask him to open one." It was a great relief to Heidi to know that the windows could be opened and that one could look out. Clara now began to ask her questions about her home, and Heidi was delighted to tell her all about the mountain and the goats, and the flowery meadows. Meanwhile her tutor had arrived; Miss Rottermeyer, however, did not bring him straight into the study but drew him first aside into the dining-room, where she poured forth her troubles. It appeared that she had written some time back to Mr. Sesemann to tell him that his daughter very much desired to have a companion. Miss Rottermeyer had wished for this arrangement on her own behalf, as it would relieve her from having always to entertain the sick girl. The father had answered that he was quite willing to let his daughter have a companion, provided she was treated in every way like his own child. But now she went on to explain how dreadfully she had been taken in about the child, and related all the unimaginable things of which she had already been guilty, so that not only would he have to begin with teaching her the A B C, but would have to start with the most rudimentary instruction as regarded everything to do with daily life. She could see only one way out of this disastrous state of affairs, and that was for the tutor to declare that it was impossible for the two to learn together without detriment to Clara, who was so far ahead of the other; that would be a good excuse for getting rid of the child. But she dared not send her home without Mr. Sesemann's order, since he was aware that by this time the companion had arrived. The tutor was a cautious man and said that if the little girl was backward in some things she was probably advanced in others, and a little regular teaching would soon set the balance right. When Miss Rottermeyer saw that he was not ready to support her, and evidently quite ready to undertake teaching the alphabet, she opened the study door, which she quickly shut again as soon as he had gone through remaining on the other side herself, for she had a perfect horror of the A B C. She walked up and down the dining-room, thinking over in her own mind how the servants were to be told to address Adelaide. The father had written that she was to be treated exactly like his own daughter, and this would especially refer, she imagined, to the servants. She was not allowed, however, a very long interval of time for consideration, for suddenly the sound of a frightful crash was heard in the study, followed by frantic cries for Sebastian. She rushed into the room. There on the floor lay in a