Since the day when Heidi had so longed to go home, and Miss Rottermeyer had met her and scolded her on the steps, and told her how wicked and ungrateful she was to try and run away, a change had come over the child. She at last understood that she could not go home when she wished as Dete had told her, but that she would have to stay on in Frankfurt for a long, long time, perhaps for ever. The weight of trouble on the little heart grew heavier and heavier; she could no longer eat her food, and every day she grew a little paler. She lay awake for long hours at night, for as soon as she was alone and everything was still around her, the picture of the mountain with its sunshine and flowers rose vividly before her eyes; and when at last she fell asleep it was to dream of the rocks and the snow-field turning crimson in the evening light, and waking in the morning she would think herself back at the hut and prepare to run joyfully out into the sun--and then--there was her large bed, and here she was in Frankfurt far, far away from home. And Heidi would often lay her face down on the pillow and weep long and quietly so that no one might hear her. Her unhappiness did not escape the grandmother's notice. One day she called her into her room, and said, "Now tell me, Heidi, what is the matter; are you in trouble?" But Heidi, afraid if she told the truth that the grandmother would think her ungrateful, and would then leave off being so kind to her, answered, "I can't tell you." "Well, could you tell Clara about it?" "Oh no, I cannot tell any one," said Heidi in so positive a tone, and with a look of such trouble on her face, that the grandmother felt full of pity for the child. "Then, dear child, let me tell you what to do: you know that when we are in great trouble, and cannot speak about it to anybody, we must turn to God and pray Him to help. You say your prayers every evening do you not?" "No, I never say any prayers," answered Heidi. "Have you never been taught to pray, Heidi; do you not know even what it means?" "I used to say prayers with the first grandmother, but that is a long time ago, and I have forgotten them." "That is the reason, Heidi, that you are so unhappy, because you know no one who can help you. Think what a comfort it is to be able to tell everything to God, and pray Him for the help that no one else can give us. And He can aid us and give us everything that will make us happy again." A sudden gleam of joy came into Heidi's eyes. "May I tell Him everything, everything?" "Yes, everything, Heidi, everything." Heidi drew her hand away, which the grandmother was holding affectionately between her own, and said quickly, "May I go?" "Yes, of course," was the answer, and Heidi ran out of the room into her own, and sitting herself on a stool, folded her hands together and told God about everything that was making her so sad and unhappy, and begged Him earnestly to help her and to let her go home to her grandfather.