The Borrowers Aloft by Mary Norton Read Free Book Online Page A

practice on one of our own houses? You run up to the attic now and get the net, and I'll get the oars and the boat hook. Now, you've got to face up to it, Mabel," added Mr. Platter irritably, as Mrs. Platter still seemed to hesitate. "We must each do our part. Fair's fair, you know."

Chapter Nine
    The next day it began to rain, and it rained on and off for ten days. Even Mr. Pott had a falling off of visitors. Not that he minded particularly; he and Miss Menzies employed themselves indoors at Mr. Pott's long kitchen table—repairing, remodeling, repainting, restitching, and oiling.... The lamplight shed its gentle glow around them. While the rain poured down outside, the gluepot bubbled on the stove and the kettle sang beside it. At last came October the first, the day when the season ended.
    "Mr. Pott," said Miss Menzies after a short but breathy silence (she was quilting an eiderdown for Homily's double bed and found the work exacting), "I am rather worried."
    "Oh," said Mr. Pott. He was making a fence of matchsticks, gluing them delicately with the aid of pincers and a fine sable brush. "In fact," Miss Menzies went on, "I'm very worried indeed. Could you listen a moment?"
    This direct assault took Mr. Pott by surprise. "Something wrong?" he asked.
    "Yes, I think something is wrong. I haven't seen Arrietty for three days. Have you?"
    "Come to think of it, no," said Mr. Pott.
    "Or any of them?"
    Mr. Pott was silent a moment, thinking back. "Not now you mention it—no," he said.
    "I had an appointment with her on Monday, down by the stream, but she didn't turn up. But I wasn't worried. It was raining anyway, and I thought perhaps Spiller had arrived. But he hadn't, you know. I know now where he keeps his boat, and it wasn't there. And then, when I passed their cottage, I saw the back door was open. This isn't like them, but it reassured me, as I assumed they wouldn't be so careless unless they were all inside. When I passed again on my way home for tea, the door was still open. All yesterday it was open, and it was open again this morning. It's a bit—"
    "—rum," agreed Mr. Pott.
    "—odd," said Miss Menzies—they spoke on the same instant.
    "Mr. Pott, dear," went on Miss Menzies, "after I showed them to you, so very carefully, you remember—you didn't go and stare at them or anything? You didn't frighten them?"
    "No," said Mr. Pott, "I been too busy closing up for winter. I like to see 'em, mind, but I haven't had the time."
    "And their chimney isn't smoking," Miss Menzies went on. "It hasn't been smoking for three days. I mean, one can't help being—"
    "—worried," said Mr. Pott.
    "—uneasy," said Miss Menzies. She laid down her work. "Are you still listening?" she asked.
    Mr. Pott tipped a matchstick with glue, breathing heavily. "Yes, I'm thinking..." he said.
    "I don't like to look right inside," Miss Menzies explained. "For one thing, you can't look in from the front because there's not room to kneel in the High Street, and you can't kneel down at the back without spoiling their garden, and the other thing is that, say they are inside—Pod and Homily, I mean—I'd be giving the whole game away. I've explained to you what they're like about being 'seen'? If they hadn't gone already, they'd go then because I'd 'seen' them. And we would be out of the frying pan into the fire..."
    Mr. Pott nodded; he was rather new to borrowers and depended on Miss Menzies for his data. She had, he felt, through months of study, somehow got the whole thing taped. "Have you counted the people?" he suggested at last.
    "Our people? Yes, I thought of that—and I've been through everyone twice. A hundred and seven, and those trwo being mended. That's right, isn't it? And I've examined them all very carefully one by one and been through every railway carriage and everything. No, they're either in their house or they've gone right away. You're sure you didn't frighten them? Even by accident?"
    "I've told you," said Mr. Pott. Very