The Borrowers Aloft (11 page)

Chapter Twenty-three

The door of Vine Cottage was unlocked, and Pod pushed it open. A fire was burning in an unfamiliar grate, and Spiller lay asleep on the floor. As Pod entered, he scrambled to his feet. They stared at each other. Spiller's pointed face looked tired and his eyes a little sunken.

Pod smiled slowly. "Hello," he said.

"Hello," said Spiller, and without any change of expression he stopped and picked some nutshells from the floor and threw them on the fire. It was a new floor, Pod noticed, of honey-colored wood, with a woven mat beside the fireplace.

"Been away quite a while," remarked Spiller casually, staring at the blaze. The changed fireplace, Pod noticed, now incorporated a small iron cooking stove.

"Yes," he said, looking about the room, "we've been all winter in an attic."

Spiller nodded.

"
You
know," said Pod, "a room at the top of a human house?"

Spiller nodded again and kicked a piece of fallen nutshell back into the grate. It flared up brightly with a cheerful crackle.

"We couldn't get out," said Pod.

"Ah," said Spiller noncommittally.

"So we made a balloon," went on Pod, "and we sailed it out of the window." Spiller looked up sharply, suddenly alert. "Arrietty and Homily are in it now. It's caught on the wire fence."

Spiller's puzzled glance darted toward the window and as swiftly darted away again; the fence was not visible from here.

"Some kind of boat?" he said at last.

"In a manner of speaking." Pod smiled. "Care to see it?" he added carelessly.

Something flashed in Spiller's face—a spark that was swiftly quenched. "Might as well," he conceded.

"May interest you," said Pod, a note of pride in his voice. He glanced once more about the room.

"They've done the house up," he remarked.

Spiller nodded. "Running water and all..."

"Running water!" exclaimed Pod.

"That's right," said Spiller, edging toward the door.

Pod stared at the piping above the sink, but he made no move to inspect it. Tables and floor were strewn with Spiller's borrowings: sparrows' eggs and eggshells, nuts, grain, and, laid out on a dandelion leaf, six rather shriveled smoked minnows.

"Been staying here?" he said.

"On and off," said Spiller, teetering on the threshold.

Again Pod's eyes traveled about the room. The general style of it emerged, in spite of Spiller's clutter—plain chairs, scrubbable tables, wooden dresser, painted plates, hand-woven rugs, all very Rosetti-ish and practical.

"Smells of humans," he remarked.

"Does a bit," agreed Spiller.

"We might just tidy round," Pod suggested. "Wouldn't take us a minute." As though in apology, he added, "It's first impressions with her, if you get my meaning. Always has been. And—" He broke off abruptly as a sharp sound split the silence.

"What's that?" said Spiller, as eye met startled eye.

"It's the balloon," cried Pod, and suddenly white-faced, he stared in a stunned way at the window. "They've burst it," he exclaimed, and pushing past Spiller, he dashed out through the door.

Homily and Arrietty, shaken but unharmed, were clinging to the wires. The basket dangled emptily, and the envelope, in tatters, seemed threaded into the fence; the net now looked like a bird's nest.

"We got it down lovely," Pod heard Homily gasping, as hand over hand, he and Spiller climbed up the mesh of the fence.

"Stay where you are," Pod called out.

"Came down like a dream, Pod," Homily kept on crying, "came down like a bird..."

"All right," called Pod, "just you stay quiet where you are."

"Then the wind changed," persisted Homily, half sobbing but still at the top of her voice, "and swung us round sideways ... against that jagged wire.... But she came down lovely, Pod, light as thistledown. Didn't she, Arrietty?"

But Arrietty, too proud to be rescued, was well on her way to the ground. Spiller climbed swiftly toward her, and they met in a circle of mesh. "You're on the wrong side," said Spiller.

"I know; I can soon climb through." There were tears in her eyes, her cheeks were crimson, and her hair blew about in wisps.

"Like a hand?" said Spiller.

"No, thank you. I'm quite all right," and avoiding his curious gaze, she hurriedly went on down. "How stupid, how stupid," she exclaimed aloud when she felt herself out of earshot. She was almost in tears. It should never have been like this: he would never understand the balloon without having seen it inflated, and mere words could never make clear all they had gone through to make it and the extent of their dizzy success. There was nothing to show for this now but a stained old strawberry basket, some shreds of shriveled rubber, and a tangled bunch of string. A few moments earlier, she and her mother had been bringing it down so beautifully. After the first flurry of panic, Homily had had one of her sudden calms. Perhaps it was the realization of being home again: the sight of their unchanged village at peace in the afternoon light, and the filament of smoke that rose up unexpectedly from the chimney of Vine Cottage, a drifting pennant of welcome that showed the house was inhabited and that the fire had only just been lit. Not lit by Miss Menzies who had long since passed out of sight, nor Pod who had not yet› reached the house, so they guessed it must be Spiller. They had suddenly felt among friends again, and proud of their great achievement, they had longed to show off their prowess. In a businesslike manner, they had coiled up the ropes, stacked the tackle, and made the basket shipshape. They had wrung out their wet clothes, and Homily had redone her hair. Then methodically and calmly, they had set to work, following Pod's instructions.

"It's too bad," Arrietty exclaimed, looking upward as she reached the last rung of the wire; there was her father helping Homily with footholds, and Spiller, of course, at the top of the fence busily examining the wreckage. Very dispirited, she stepped off the wire, drew down a plantain leaf by its tip, and flinging herself along its springy length, she lay there glumly, staring upward, her hands behind her head.

Homily, too, seemed very upset when, steered by Pod, she eventually reached the ground. "It was nothing we did," she kept saying. "It was just a change of wind."

"I know, I know," he consoled her. "Forget it now—it served its purpose and there's a surprise for you up at the house. You and Arrietty go on ahead while Spiller and I do the salvage..."

When Homily saw the house, she became a different woman: it was as though, thought Arrietty, watching her mother's expression, Homily had walked into paradise. There were a few stunned moments of quiet incredulous joy before excitement broke loose, and she ran like a mad thing from room to room, exploring, touching, adjusting, and endlessly exclaiming. "They've divided the upstairs into two; there's a little room for you, Arrietty. Look at this sink, I ask you, Arrietty! Water in the tap and all! And what's that thing on the ceiling?"

"It's a bulb from a flashlight of some kind," said Arrietty after a moment's study.

And beside the back door, in a kind of lean-to shed, they found the great square battery. "So we've got electric light..." breathed Homily, slowly backing away. "Better not touch it," she went on in an awe-struck and frightened voice, "until your father comes. Now help me clear up Spiller's clobber," she went on excitedly. "I pity any unfortunate creature who ever keeps house for
him
..." But her eyes were alight and shining. She hung up her new dress beside the fire to dry, and delighted to find them again, she changed into old clothes.

Arrietty who, for some reason, still felt dispirited, found she had grown out of hers. "I look ridiculous in this," she said unhappily, trying to pull down her sweater.

"Well, who's to see you," Homily retorted, "except your father and Spiller."

Panting and straining, she worked away, clearing and stacking and altering the positions of the furniture. Soon nothing was where it had been originally, and the room looked rather odd. "You can't do
much
with a kitchen-living room," Homily remarked when, panting a little, she surveyed the results, "and I'm still not sure about that dresser."

"What about it?" said Arrietty, who was longing to sit down.

"That it wouldn't be better where it was."

"Can't we leave the men to do it?" said Arrietty. "They'll be back soon—for supper."

"That's just the point," said Homily. "If we move it at all, we must do it now—before I start on the cooking. It looks dreadful there," she went on crossly. "Spoils the whole look of the room. Now come on, Arrietty—it won't take us a minute."

With the dresser back in its old position, the other things looked out of place. "Now that table could go here," Homily suggested, "if we move this chest of drawers. You take one end, Arrietty ..."

There were several more reshuffles before she seemed content. "A lot of trouble," she admitted happily, as she surveyed the final result, "but worth it in the end. It looks a lot better now, doesn't it, Arrietty? It suddenly looks kind of
right.
"

"Yes," said Arrietty dryly, "because everything's back where it was."

"What do you mean?" exclaimed Homily.

"Where it was before we started," said Arrietty.

"Nonsense," snapped Homily crossly, but she looked about her uncertainly. "Why—that stool was under the window! But we can't waste time arguing now: those men will be back any moment, and I haven't started the soup. Run down to the stream now, there's a good girl, and get me a few leaves of water cress..."

Chapter Twenty-four

Later that night when—having eaten and cleared away—the four of them sat around the fire, Arrietty began to feel a little annoyed with Spiller. Balloon-crazy—that's what he seemed to have become—and all within a few short hours. No eyes, no ears, no thoughts for anyone or anything except for those boring shreds of shriveled rubber now safely stored with the other trappings in the back of the village shop. He had listened, of course, at supper when Arrietty—hoping to interest him—had tried to recount their adventures, but if she paused even for a moment, the bright dark glance would fly again to Pod, and, again, in his tense, dry way he would ply Pod with questions: Oiled silk instead of rubber next time for the canopy? The silk would be easy to borrow—and Mr. Pott would have the oil..." Questions on wind velocity, trail ropes, moorings, grapnels, inflation—there seemed no end to these nor to his curiosity, which, for some masculine reason Arrietty could not fathom, could only be satisfied by Pod. Any timid contribution on the part of Arrietty seemed to slide across his mind unheard. "And I know as much about it as anybody," she told herself crossly, as she huddled in the shadows. "More in fact. It was I who had to teach Papa." She stared in a bored way about the firelit room: the drawn curtains, plates glinting on the dresser, the general air of peace and comfort. Even this, in a way, they owed to her: it was she who had had the courage to speak to Miss Menzies—and, in the course of this friendship, describe their habits and needs. How smug they all looked in their ignorance as they sat around the fire. Leaning forward into the firelight, she said suddenly, "Papa, would you listen, please?"

"Don't see why not," replied Pod, smiling slightly at the eager, firelit face and the breathless tone of her voice

"It's something I've got to tell you. I couldn't once. But I can now—" As she spoke, her heart began to beat a little faster: even Spiller was paying attention. "It's about this house; it's about why they made these things for us; it's about how they knew what we wanted..."

"What
we
wanted...?" repeated Pod.

"Yes, or why do you think they did it?"

Pod took his time "I wouldn't know for
why
they did it," he said at last, "any more than I'd know for
why
they built that church or the railway. Reckon they're furnishing all these houses.... One by one, like."

"No," exclaimed Arrietty, and her voice trembled slightly. "You're wrong, Papa. They've only furnished one house, and that's our house—because they know all about us and they like us and they want us to stay here!"

There was a short, stunned silence. Then Homily muttered, "Oh, my goodness..." under her breath. Spiller, still as stone, stared unblinkingly, and Pod said slowly, "Explain what you mean, Arrietty. How do they know about us?"

"I told her," said Arrietty.

"Her-r?" repeated Pod slowly, rolling his r's in the country way, his custom when deeply moved.

"Miss Menzies," said Arrietty, "the tall one with the long hands who hid behind the thistle."

"Oh, my goodness..." muttered Homily again.

"It's all right, Mother," Arrietty assured her earnestly. "There's nothing to be frightened of. You'll be safe here, safer than you've ever been in the whole of all your life. They'll look after us and protect us and take care of us—forever and ever and ever. She promised me."

Homily, though trembling, looked slightly reassured.

"What does your father think?" she asked faintly, and stared across at Pod. Arrietty, too, wheeled around toward him. "Don't say anything, Papa, not yet, please please! Not until I've told you everything. Then"—at the sight of his expression, she lost her nerve and finished lamely—"then, you're practically sure to see."

"See what?" said Pod.

"That it's quite all right."

"Go on, then," he said.

Hurriedly, almost pleadingly, Arrietty gave them the facts. She described her friendship with Miss Menzies right from the very beginning. She described Miss Menzies' character, her loyalty, her charity, her gifts, her imagination, and her courage. She even told them about dear Gadstone and about Aubrey, Miss Menzies' "best friend" (Homily shook her head there, and clicked her tongue. "Sad when that happens," she said musingly. "It was like that with my younger sister, Milligram; Milli never married neither. She took to collecting dead flies' wings, making them into fans and suchlike. And pretty they looked, in certain lights, all colors of the rainbow...") and went on to describe all she had learned from Miss Menzies concerning Mr. Pott: how kind he was, and how gentle, and so skilled in making-do and invention that he might be a borrower himself.

"That's right," Spiller said suddenly at this juncture. He spoke so feelingly that Arrietty, looking across at him, felt something stir in her memory.

"Was
he
the borrower you once told us about—the one you said lived here alone?"

Spiller smiled slyly. "That's right," he admitted. "Learn a lot from him,
any
borrower could."

"Not when everything's laid on," said Pod, "and there's nothing left to borrow. Go on, Arrietty," he said as she suddenly seemed lost in thought.

"Well, that's all. At least all I can think of now."

"It's enough," said Pod. He stared across at her, his arms folded, his expression very grave. "You shouldn't have done it," he said quietly, "no matter what it's given us."

"Listen, Pod," Homily put in quickly. "She has done it and she can't undo it now, however much you scold her. I mean"—she glanced about the firelit room, at the winking plates on the dresser, the tap above the sink, the unlit globe in the ceiling—"we've got a lot to be thankful for."

"It all smells of humans," said Pod.

"That'll wear off, Pod."

"Will it?" he said.

Arrietty, suddenly out of patience, jumped up from her stool by the fire. "I just don't know what any of you do want," she exclaimed unhappily. "I thought you might be pleased or proud of me or something. Mother's always longed for a house like this!" and fumbling at the latch, she opened the door and ran out into the moonlight.

There was silence in the room after she had gone. No one moved until a stool squeaked slightly as Spiller rose to his feet. "Where are you off to?" asked Pod casually.

"Just to take a look at my moorings."

"But you'll come back here to sleep?" said Homily. Very hospitable, she felt suddenly, surrounded by new-found amenities.

"Thanks," said Spiller.

"I'll come with you," said Pod.

"No need," said Spiller.

"I'd like the air," said Pod.

Arrietty, in the shadow of the house, saw them go by in the moonlight. As they passed out of sight, into darkness, she heard her father say, "...depends how you look at it." Look at what, she wondered? Suddenly Arrietty felt left out of things: her father and mother had their house, Spiller had his boat, Miss Menzies had Mr. Pott and his village, Mr. Pott had his Miss Menzies and his railway, but what was left for her? She reached out and took hold of a dandelion stalk, which, the size of a lamppost, had grown beside the house to the height of her bedroom window. On a sudden impulse, she snapped the stalk in half: the silvery seeds scattered madly into the moonlight, and the juice ran out on her hands. For a moment she stood there watching until the silky spikes, righting themselves, had floated into darkness, and then, suddenly feeling cold, she turned and went inside.

Homily still sat where they had left her, dreaming by the fire. But she had swept the hearth and lighted a dip, which shed its glow from the table. Arrietty, with a sudden pang, saw her mother's deep content.

"Would you like to live here always?" she asked as she drew up a stool to the fire.

"Yes," said Homily, "now we've got it comfortable. Why? Wouldn't you?"

"I don't know," said Arrietty. "All those people in the summer. All the dust and noise..."

"Yes," said Homily, "you've got to keep on sweeping. But there's always something," she added, "and at least we've got running water."

"And being cooped up during visiting hours..."

"I don't mind that," said Homily. "There's plenty to do in the house, and I've been cooped up all my life. That's your lot, like, say you're born a borrower."

Arrietty was silent a moment. "It would never be Spiller's lot," she said at last.

"Oh, him!" exclaimed Homily impatiently. "I've never known nothing about those out-of-door ones. A race apart, my father used to say. Or house-borrowers just gone wild..."

"Where have they gone?"

"They're all over the place, I shouldn't wonder, hidden away in the rabbit holes and hedges."

"I mean my father and Spiller."

"Oh, them. Down to the stream to see to his moorings. And if I was you, Arrietty," Homily went on more earnestly, "I'd get to bed before your father comes in—your bed's all ready, new sheets and everything
and,
"—her voice almost broke with pride—"under the quilt, there's a little silken eiderdown!"

"They're coming now," said Arrietty. "I can hear them."

"Well, just say good night and run off," urged Homily anxiously. As the latch clicked she dropped her voice to a whisper. "I think you've upset him a bit with that talk about Miss—Miss—

"Menzies," said Arrietty.