Arriety, unbeknownst of her fathers worries, put back the tile and ventured out of doors. She drank a few sips of water from the drip and picked a leaf of mint on which she chewed while deep in thought. She could go up to the pond today. She could make the trip before Mr. or Mrs. Whitlace were up and about. Perhaps one of Spiller's fishing lines, the ones he had left behind, caught something today. Or she could climb up to her usual spot in the box hedge, to oversee the garden.

But no, she sighed, there was no use in that. There would be no Spiller to look out for.

She decided to make for the pond. Perhaps she could try out Spiller's gas oven, provided there was a fish on the line.

The church bell rang six by the time she saw the glistening water of the pond. What to the human beings was merely a shallow puddle, seemed as vast as an ocean to Arrietty. Standing on the beach of pebbles, right next to where once the boat had been that had carried their doll house belongings to the rectory, she was soon lost in thought. So lost, that the soft creaking of footsteps did not reach her ears until they were almost upon her.

With a startled gasp, she turned and lo and behold, it was Spiller. Spiller, with his dark hair standing on end, his intelligent eyes roaming her outfit and his V-shaped grin, telling her he approved.

It was Spiller, with his bow in his hand and the arrows sticking out above his left shoulder, safely tucked in his quiver.

For a moment Arrietty thought she was dreaming. It couldn't be be, couldn't it? Spiller was never coming back, she'd chased him away with her careless accusation; her horrid words. Tears began to blur her vision and without an other thought, she leapt forward and threw her arms around his neck.

"Oh, Spiller," she cried, "I am so sorry. I should never have said those words. You were right to be angry with me. I am so sorry. Please do forgive me."

There came no reply. In fact, after a little while, Arrietty realised the boy had become frozen. His hands were by his side and his back straight as a rod, he was barely breathing. Slowly she unhooked her arms from around him and pulled back to glance at his face.

His face, she knew, was darker than any of theirs. It was because he lived outdoors and had done so all his life. Yet, now it seemed, the colour was even darker. More reddish. And the grin was gone, replaced by a shocked expression that made her own cheeks turn slightly red themselves.

In a whisper she said: "I am so glad you came back, Spiller."

He blinked, once, twice, gave an unusual slow nod and then he backed away. He seemed shy, but not like he was with strangers or when there were a lot of people around. His gaze he kept on her face the whole time, until his wild eyes disappeared from view, blocked by the large leaves of a dandelion.

It wasn't until then that Arrietty felt her heart beating ten times faster. She heard it too; the little rickety tick. It went as fast as the trains that used to drive past their house in the miniature village of Mr. Pott. For a few long minutes she merely stood there and listened, her eyes fixed on the point where the last tuft of dark hair had vanished.

At last she was startled by a splashing sound and as she rotated her head, she saw a small cornfish fighting for his freedom. This distracted her. The astonishing reunion was pushed to the back and carefully she made her way to where the line had been fastened around a large piece of jutting stone. The poor fish never stood a chance.

What now? Should she reel it in? Call her father? Leave it to Spiller? The thought of him brought her only just now returned to normal heart rate back up to speed. Oh dear.

A short while she tried to reel in the fishing line, but seeing the poor creature with his mouth agape and his distant, glassy eyes, she quickly released the line and let the fish go. As far as it could go, that was, with the hook still caught in its cheek. Arrietty seriously pondered the idea of becoming a vegetarian for reel, however the sweet smell of smoked filet, soft as butter, penetrated her memory and with a small amount of quilt, she left for home.