“Strong gates,” said Pod, “gates you can’t open. What are they there for?”
“Against the mice?” said Arrietty.
“Yes,” agreed Pod uncertainly, as though he gave her half a mark, “but mice never hurt no one. What else?”
[…]
“Cats?” echoed Arrietty, surprised.
“Or to keep you in?” suggested Pod.
“It was an eye. Or it looked like an eye. Clear and bright like the color of the sky. An eye like her own but enormous. A glaring eye. Breathless with fear, she sat up.”
“She looked across the great plain of floor where, in the distance, the stairs mounted. “Another world above,” she thought, “world on world…” and shivered slightly.”
“She was so full of happiness that, out of Homily’s sight, her toes danced on the green moss. Here she was on the other side of the grating—here she was at last, on the outside—looking in!”
“Tea was indeed ready, waiting on the round table in the sitting room with a bright fire burning in the cogwheel. How familiar the room seemed, and homely, but, suddenly, somehow strange. ”