The_borrowers__Mary_Norton借东西的小人.docVIP

The borrowers Mary Norton Chapter One Mrs. May lived in two rooms in Kate’s parents’ house in London; she was, I think, some kind of relation. Her bedroom was on the first floor, and her sitting room was a room which, as part of the house, was called “the breakfast-room.” Now breakfast-rooms are all right in the morning when the sun streams in on the toast and marmalade, but by afternoon they seem to vanish a little and to fill with a strange silvery light, their own twilight; there is a kind of sadness in them then, but as a child it was a sadness Kate liked. She would creep in to Mrs. May just before tea-time and Mrs. May would teach her to crochet. Mrs. May was old, her joints were stiff, and she was-not strict exactly, but she had that inner certainty which does instead. Kate was never “wild” with Mrs. May, nor untidy, nor self-willed; and Mrs. May taught her many things besides crochet: how to wind wool into an egg-shaped ball; how to run-and-fell and plan a darn; how to tidy a drawer and to lay, like a blessing, above the contents, a sheet of rustling tissue against the dust. “Where’s your work, child?” asked Mrs. May one day, when Kate sat hunched and silent upon the hassock. “You mustn’t sit there dreaming. Have you lost your tongue?” “No,” said Kate, pulling at her shoe button, “I’ve lost the crochet hook.” They were making a bed-quilt-in woolen squares: there were thirty still to do. “I know where I put it,” she went on hastily; “I put it on the bottom shelf of the bookcase just beside my bed.” “On the bottom shelf?” repeated Mrs. May, her own heedle flicking steadily in the firelight. “Near the floor?” “Yes,” said Kate, “but I looked on the floor. Under the rug. Everywhere. The wool was still there though. Just where I’d left it.” “Oh dear,” exclaimed Mrs. May lightly, “don’t say they’re in this house too!” “That what are?” asked Kate. “The Borrowers,” said Mrs. May, and in the half light she seemed to smile. Kate stared a little fearfully. “