Read Online The Borrowers Afloat by Mary Norton - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Mary Norton
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Homily.
"What about it, Homily?" said Pod.
"I don't mind," said Homily, "providing we live near the shops..."
"There's nothing in the shops," explained Pod in a patient voice, "or so I've heard tell, but bananas and such-like made of plaster and all stuck down in a lump."
"No, but it sounds nice," said Homily. "Say you were talking to Lupy—"
"But you won't be talking to Lupy," said Pod. "Lupy won't even know we're gone until she wakes up tomorrow morning thinking that she's got to get us breakfast. No, Homily," he went on earnestly, "you don't want to make for shopping centers and all that sort of caper; better some quiet little place down by the water's edge. You won't want to be everlastingly carting water. And, say Spiller comes down pretty regular with a nice bit of cargo, you want somewhere he can tie up and unload.... Plenty of time, once we get there, to have a look round and take our pick."
"Take our pick..." Suddenly Homily felt the magic of these words: they began to work inside her—champagne bubbles of excitement welling up and up—until, at last, she flung her hands together in a sudden joyful clap. "Oh Pod," she breathed, her eyes brimming, as, startled by the noise, he turned sharply toward her. "Think of it—all those houses ... We could try them all out if we wanted, one after another. What's to prevent us?"
"Common sense," said Pod; he smiled at Arrietty. "What do you say, lass? Shops or water?"
Arrietty cleared her throat. "Down by water," she whispered huskily, her eyes shining and her face tremulous in the dancing light of the dip, "at least to start with...."
There was a short pause. Pod glanced down at his tackle strapped to the hatpin and up at the clock on the wall. "Getting on for half-past one," he said. "Time we had a look at this drain. What do you say, Spiller? Could you spare us a minute? And show us the ropes like?"
"Oh," exclaimed Homily, dismayed, "I thought Spiller was coming with us."
"Now, Homily," explained Pod, "it's a long trek and he's only just arrived; he won't want to go back right away."
"I don't see why not if his clothes aren't ready—that's what you came for, isn't it, Spiller?"
"That and other things," said Pod. "Daresay he's brought a few oddments for Lupy."
"That's all right," said Spiller. "I can tip 'em out on the floor."
"And you will come?" cried Homily.
Spiller nodded. "Might as well."
Even Pod seemed slightly relieved. "That's very civil of you, Spiller," he said, "very civil indeed." He turned to Arrietty. "Now, Arrietty, take a dip and go and fetch the egg."
"Oh, don't let's bother with the egg," said Homily.
Pod gave her a look. "You go and get that egg, Arrietty. Just roll it along in front of you into the washhouse, but be careful with the light near those shavings. Homily, you bring the other two dips and I'll get the tackle...."
Chapter Eleven
As they filed through the crack of the door onto the stone flags of the washhouse, they heard the ferret again. But Homily now felt brave. "Scratch away," she dared it happily, secure in their prospect of escape. But when they stood at last, grouped beneath the mangle and staring down at the drain, her new-found courage ebbed a little and she murmured, "Oh, my goodness...." Very deep and dark and well-like it seemed, sunk below the level of the floor. The square grating that usually covered it lay beside it at an angle, and in the yawning blackness she could see the reflections of their dips. A dank draft quivered round the candle flames, and there was a sour smell of yellow soap, stale disinfectant, and tea leaves.
"What's that at the bottom?" she asked, peering down. "Water?"
"Slime," said Spiller.
"Jellied soap," put in Pod quickly.
"And we've got to wade through that?"
"It isn't deep," said Spiller.
"Not as though this drain was a sewer," said Pod, trying to sound comforting and hearty. "Beats me though," he went on to Spiller, "how you manage to move this grating."
Spiller showed him.
"What about it, Homily?" said Pod.
"I don't mind," said Homily, "providing we live near the shops..."
"There's nothing in the shops," explained Pod in a patient voice, "or so I've heard tell, but bananas and such-like made of plaster and all stuck down in a lump."
"No, but it sounds nice," said Homily. "Say you were talking to Lupy—"
"But you won't be talking to Lupy," said Pod. "Lupy won't even know we're gone until she wakes up tomorrow morning thinking that she's got to get us breakfast. No, Homily," he went on earnestly, "you don't want to make for shopping centers and all that sort of caper; better some quiet little place down by the water's edge. You won't want to be everlastingly carting water. And, say Spiller comes down pretty regular with a nice bit of cargo, you want somewhere he can tie up and unload.... Plenty of time, once we get there, to have a look round and take our pick."
"Take our pick..." Suddenly Homily felt the magic of these words: they began to work inside her—champagne bubbles of excitement welling up and up—until, at last, she flung her hands together in a sudden joyful clap. "Oh Pod," she breathed, her eyes brimming, as, startled by the noise, he turned sharply toward her. "Think of it—all those houses ... We could try them all out if we wanted, one after another. What's to prevent us?"
"Common sense," said Pod; he smiled at Arrietty. "What do you say, lass? Shops or water?"
Arrietty cleared her throat. "Down by water," she whispered huskily, her eyes shining and her face tremulous in the dancing light of the dip, "at least to start with...."
There was a short pause. Pod glanced down at his tackle strapped to the hatpin and up at the clock on the wall. "Getting on for half-past one," he said. "Time we had a look at this drain. What do you say, Spiller? Could you spare us a minute? And show us the ropes like?"
"Oh," exclaimed Homily, dismayed, "I thought Spiller was coming with us."
"Now, Homily," explained Pod, "it's a long trek and he's only just arrived; he won't want to go back right away."
"I don't see why not if his clothes aren't ready—that's what you came for, isn't it, Spiller?"
"That and other things," said Pod. "Daresay he's brought a few oddments for Lupy."
"That's all right," said Spiller. "I can tip 'em out on the floor."
"And you will come?" cried Homily.
Spiller nodded. "Might as well."
Even Pod seemed slightly relieved. "That's very civil of you, Spiller," he said, "very civil indeed." He turned to Arrietty. "Now, Arrietty, take a dip and go and fetch the egg."
"Oh, don't let's bother with the egg," said Homily.
Pod gave her a look. "You go and get that egg, Arrietty. Just roll it along in front of you into the washhouse, but be careful with the light near those shavings. Homily, you bring the other two dips and I'll get the tackle...."
Chapter Eleven
As they filed through the crack of the door onto the stone flags of the washhouse, they heard the ferret again. But Homily now felt brave. "Scratch away," she dared it happily, secure in their prospect of escape. But when they stood at last, grouped beneath the mangle and staring down at the drain, her new-found courage ebbed a little and she murmured, "Oh, my goodness...." Very deep and dark and well-like it seemed, sunk below the level of the floor. The square grating that usually covered it lay beside it at an angle, and in the yawning blackness she could see the reflections of their dips. A dank draft quivered round the candle flames, and there was a sour smell of yellow soap, stale disinfectant, and tea leaves.
"What's that at the bottom?" she asked, peering down. "Water?"
"Slime," said Spiller.
"Jellied soap," put in Pod quickly.
"And we've got to wade through that?"
"It isn't deep," said Spiller.
"Not as though this drain was a sewer," said Pod, trying to sound comforting and hearty. "Beats me though," he went on to Spiller, "how you manage to move this grating."
Spiller showed him.
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