Arrietty considered his offer to fix the glider.  If he could do it, why not?  Her father would most certainly be upset if he found out, but then, he might be angry that it broke in the first place.  She wondered if he was expecting it to come back in one piece?  It<span style="font-style: italic">was</span>a prototype, after all.<br/>“No, thank you,” she decided, “I don't think Papa would be very pleased if you did that work for him.  It's about all he does, nowadays.  I think he'd be devastated even if<span style="font-style: italic">I</span>tinkered with it.”  A thin smile came to her lips.  His Borrowing days may be over, but Pod still found ways to innovate, even if they were a twee outlandish.  He almost had a water system fully integrated into their home, but decided it would be too risky, as the lines could easily be traced into the rafters of the barn.  Not that they had to go far to fetch water, but her parents were getting older and the commute harder, and they couldn't rely on Spiller or herself all the time.  “I'll wait for you outside.”<br/><br/>She crossed the threshold of the room, slipping through the barest crack underneath the door while Sho changed.  The glider was, surprisingly, quite conforming to her back, and didn't catch on anything at all.  The hall was dark, but there was a single light coming from the kitchen, which told her the old man was still awake.  She would have to be careful.  A man of his age probably wasn't anything to be worried about, but it was best to exercise caution even so.  There was a faint warmth coming from the room, and she was curious if the man was cooking something.  Her footsteps light on the hard wood floor, she found her way toward the kitchen.  She would have to find a window if she was going to get outside, as doors going outside were properly sealed to keep insects and the weather out.  It was only a minor inconvenience.<br/><br/>She peered around the corner into the kitchen, and almost instantly reeled back in horror, stifling a paled scream.  She fell backward in the shadow of a massive dog, easily big enough to swallow her whole.  It was black and white, with splatters of alternating shade dressing its coat as if it had been painted with a splattery brush.  Its haunting blue eyes were fixed forward, its ears perked and at attention, jaws agape with a canine smile as if anticipating a Scooby Snack.  It was frozen.  Slowly, Arrietty stood up, brushing off her skirt and readjusting her satchel, never taking her eyes off of the dog.  It was inanimate, like a statue, but looked so real.  She touched its paw tentatively.  It<span style="font-style: italic">was</span>real.  A shiver crawled down her spine, and she crossed her arms around her chest and moved quickly away from it.<br/><br/>Despite the meager activity in the kitchen, the farmer was not there.  All the better, she thought.  It was surprisingly bare, if a little dusty.  She doubted he was in here very much, if at all.  She passed a slightly ajar pantry door, and, moderately curious, poked her head inside to investigate.  There was a basket on the floor, a thin coat of dust blanketing it in what could only be the result of items forgotten for years.  It had a faint scent of perfume behind the powder, and her interest only spiked when she saw the yarn and crochet hooks jutting out of the overstuffed lid.  The lid was slid away easily, and inside, she swooned at her luck.  There were all sorts of threads, pins, loops, and needles, and though scattered about as if thrown away, it was easy to search through the mess for things she needed.  Arrietty didn't think the man would ever notice in his lifetime if anything were to disappear from the basket, as he'd seemed to already have forgotten about it, but she was still frugal in pulling anything inside for her plunder.  She took a cut of thread, coiling it up around her wrist into a fine circular shape to keep it from tangling in her bag.  Her mother already had a needle, so she dug deeper when she saw some bits of felt and other cloth-like materials.  It was hard to resist the lace.  It would make a nice dress.  She took a small trimming for herself.  There were some leather scaps, or imitation leather, she wasn't certain, but they were perfect for Spiller.  As she reached the bottom, something different caught her attention.<br/><br/>It looked almost like a slip of paper, but it was too thick to be a love note.  She pulled it gingerly from the mess, turning it over and finding that it was, in fact, a photograph.  A very, very old one.  The farmer was in it, though significantly younger, dressed in a very casual-looking buttoned dress shirt.  There was a big smile on his face, his arm coiled around another figure.  A woman, perhaps the same age or even younger, was smiling back at him.  She was gorgeous, and with her gown and neatly dressed hair, it was quite telling that this was his wife.  Her mouth felt dry as she took it in.  There was nothing but happiness between them, like the whole world could collapse around them and it wouldn't matter one bit.  Suddenly, her bag felt dirty as understanding sunk in.  She'd been Borrowing from her things.  Perhaps, even, the only things he had left of hers.  The farmer was a widow.  Arrietty set the photo down, then guiltily searched her bag and withdrew the items one by one, placing them back within the basket.  She couldn't take them, nice as they were.  She couldn't do it with a clear conscience.<br/><br/>She walked quickly to put distance between herself and that basket of memories.  Sho ought to have been finished changing by now, and she needed to be outside.  Sure enough, there was a window just behind the sink, lacey curtains drawn in the evening dimness.  Climbing onto the countertop was a simple matter, with the right tools.  Her father Pod had taught her well.  She emerged next to the stovetop, and the sink was just beyond it.  There was a teakettle sitting over a fire, which explained the warmth.  Standing next to it now felt like a blazing firepit.  Just as she admired it, steam billowed from its spout as a sharp whistle sounded.  There was a noise from the recliner in the room over as the elderly farmer was summoned to his kettle.  Arrietty sprang into action, darting across the back of the stove and diving behind the bowl of sugar cubes as the tired old man appeared to remove it from the fire.  She watched with a little apprehension as his arthritic hands worked it into a cosy.  It seemed like the window wasn't going to be an easy target now.<br/><br/>It was at that moment that Sho appeared, stopping to have a word with him.  Her relief was near tangible.  Somehow, he had managed on several occasions to be her guardian angel, even if he wasn't aware of it.  She would waste no time.  Sho was close enough that she could reach his jacket, which he'd left invitingly open.  She unfastened her glider and held it instead under her arm, and with the man satisfyingly distracted, made the leap for it, making clumsy purchase and falling forward in the clothy tunnel of its main pocket.  She was thankful she didn't fall backwards.  Arrietty remained still for the time until Sho was finished talking with him, not willing to risk being noticed by moving around so much.<br/><br/>Once they were outside, she adjusted herself.  She'd landed roughly on her ankle, which throbbed a little when she moved it.  Otherwise, she was in one piece, and the glider retained no further damage.  “Sho?” she asked, thinking about what she had seen in the closet, “How did you find yourself here?  And what will happen when…?”  Her words trailed off a little sadly.  She didn't need to say it, but the question almost hung in the air after her.  The old man seemed too tired, too lonely.  She felt a little sad for him.