Free The Borrowers Afield by Mary Norton

down, Pod, for a moment and rest quietly and look at the view." And it was worth looking at in the afternoon sunlight. They could see right away across the field. A pheasant flew out of the far group of trees and whirred away to the left.
    "We can't sit down now," said Pod. "We got to dig that cache."
    Wearily, they collected the half nail scissor and a borrowing-bag for anything they might see on the way, and the three of them climbed down the bank.
    "Never mind," Pod comforted Homily as they made their way along the ditch. "We can go straight to bed after. And you haven't got no cooking," he reminded her.
    Homily was not comforted. As well as tired she realized suddenly she was feeling very hungry (but not,—she reflected glumly—somehow, for nuts).
    When they reached the place and Pod had removed the first sods in order to reach the soil (great shrubs these were to him, like uprooting a clump of pampas), Homily revived a little—determined to play her part (courageous help-mate, it was today). She had never dug before but the prospect faintly excited her. Strange things are possible in this odd world and she might (one never knew) discover a new talent.
    They had to take it in turns with the half nail scissor. ("Never mind," Pod told them. "I'll set to work tomorrow and rig us up a couple of spades.")
    Homily screamed when she saw her first worm: it was as long as she was—even longer, she realized, as the last bit wriggled free. "Pick it up," said Pod, "it won't hurt you. You got to learn." And, before Arrietty (who was not too keen on worms herself) could volunteer to help, she saw her mother, with set face and tensed muscles, lay hold of the writhing creature and drop it some inches beyond the hole where it writhed gratefully away among the grasses. "It was heavy," Homily remarked—her only comment—and she went back to her digging; but (Arrietty thought) she looked a trifle pale. After her third worm, Homily became slightly truculent—she handled it with the professional casualness of an experienced snake charmer—almost bored, she seemed. Arrietty was much impressed. It was a different story, however, when her mother dug up a centipede—then Homily not only screamed but ran, clutching her skirts, halfway up the bank, where she stood on a flat stone, almost gibbering. She only consented to rejoin them when Pod, tickling the angry squirming insect with the tip of the nail scissor, sent it scuttling at last into what Arrietty always thought of as "the bush."
    They carried a few nuts home for supper: these, and several wild strawberries, a leaf or two of watercress, washed down with cold water, made an adequate though somehow dismal repast. There seemed to be something lacking; a bit of digestive biscuit would have been nice, or a good cup of hot tea. But the last piece of biscuit, Homily decided, must be kept for breakfast and the tea (Pod had ordained) only for celebrations and emergencies.
    But they slept well all the same; and felt safe, tucked away under their protecting root, with the boot laced up in front. It was a little airless, perhaps, but they were far less cramped for space because so many of their belongings could be stacked outside now in the sandy, root-filled annex.

Chapter Nine
"As ye sow, so shall ye reap."
Valparaiso surrenders to the Congressionalists, 1891
[Extract from Arrietty's Diary and
Proverb Book, August 28th]
    "N OW, TODAY ," said Pod, at breakfast next morning, "we'd better go gleaning. There's a harvested cornfield yonder. Nuts and fruit is all right," he went on, "but for winter we're going to need bread."
    "Winter?" moaned Homily. "Aren't we supposed to be looking for the badger's set? And," she went on, "who's going to grind the corn?"
    "You and Arrietty, couldn't you?" said Pod. "Between two stones."
    "You'll be asking us to make fire with two sticks next," grumbled Homily, "and how do you think I can make bread without an oven? And what about yeast? Now, if you ask me," she