After a while a small shape flittered across it, heading for the upstairs window.
Nanny poured out the tea. She carefully took one spoonful of sugar out of the sugar basin, tipped the rest of the sugar into her cup, put the spoonful back in the basin, put both cups on a tray, and climbed the stairs.
Granny Weatherwax was sitting up in her bed.
Nanny looked around.
There was a large bat hanging upside down from a beam.
Granny Weatherwax rubbed her ears.
“Shove the po under it, will you, Gytha?” she mumbled. “They're a devil for excusing themselves on the carpet.”
Nanny unearthed the shyest article of Granny Weatherwax's bedroom crockery and moved it across the rug with her foot.
“I brought you a cup of tea,” she said.
“Good job, too. Mouth tastes of moths,” said Granny.
“Thought you did owls at night?” said Nanny.
“Yeah, but you ends up for days trying to twist your head right round,” said Granny. “At least bats always faces the same way. Tried rabbits first off, but you know what they are for remembering things. Anyway, you know what they thinks about the whole time. They're famous for it.”
“Grass.”
“Right.”
“Find out anything?” said Nanny
“Half a dozen people have been going up there. Every full moon!” said Granny. “Gels, by the shape of them. You only see silhouettes, with bats.”
“You done well there,” said Nanny, carefully. “Girls from round here, you reckon?”
“Got to be. They ain't using broomsticks.”
Nanny Ogg sighed.
“There's Agnes Nitt, old Threepenny's daughter,” she said. “And the Tockley girl. And some others.”
Granny Weatherwax looked at her with her mouth open.
“I asked our Jason,” she said. “Sorry.”
The bat burped. Granny genteelly covered her hand with her mouth.
“I'm a silly old fool, ain't I?” she said, after a while.
“No, no,” said Nanny. “Borrowing's a real skill. You're really good at it.”
“Prideful, that's what I am. Once upon a time I'd of thought of asking people, too, instead of fooling around being a bat.”
“Our Jason wouldn't have told you. He only told me 'cos I would've made 'is life a living hell if he didn't,” said Nanny Ogg. “That's what a mother's for.”
“I'm losing my touch, that's what it is. Getting old, Gytha.”
“You're as old as you feel, that's what I always say.”
“That's what I mean.”