Perdita stared at the circle as though hypnotized. “Um. Shall we start, then?”
“Right.”
Nanny Ogg scurried back to the bench and elbowed Granny in the ribs.
“Wake up!”
Granny opened an eye.
“I weren't asleep, I was just resting me eyes.”
“All you've got to do is stare her down!”
“At least she knows about the importance of the stare, then. Hah! Who does she think she is? I've been staring at people all my life!”
“Yes, that's what's bothering me - aaahh . . . who's Nona's little boy, then?”
The rest of the Ogg clan had arrived.
Granny Weatherwax personally disliked young Pewsey. She disliked all small children, which is why she got on with them so well. In Pewsey's case, she felt that no one should be allowed to wander around in just a vest even if they were four years old. And the child had a permanently runny nose and ought to be provided with a handkerchief or, failing that, a cork.
Nanny Ogg, on the other hand, was instant putty in the hands of any grandchild, even one as sticky as Pewsey
“Want sweetie,” growled Pewsey, in that curiously deep voice some young children have.
“Just in a moment, my duck, I'm talking to the lady,” Nanny Ogg fluted.
“Want sweetie now.”
“Bugger off, my precious, Nana's busy right this minute.”
Pewsey pulled hard on Nanny Ogg's skirts.
“Now sweetie now!”
Granny Weatherwax leaned down until her impressive nose was about level with Pewsey's gushing one.
“If you don't go away,” she said gravely, “I will personally rip your head off and fill it with snakes.”
“There!” said Nanny Ogg. “There's lots of poor children in Klatch that'd be grateful for a curse like that.”
Pewsey's little face, after a second or two of uncertainty, split into a pumpkin grin.
“Funny lady,” he said.
“Tell you what,” said Nanny, patting Pewsey on the head and then absentmindedly wiping her hand on her dress, “you see them young ladies on the other side of the square? They've got lots of sweeties.”
Pewsey waddled off.
“That's germ warfare, that is,” said Granny Weatherwax.
“Come on,” said Nanny. “Our Jason's put a couple of chairs in the circle. You sure you're all right?”
“I'll do.”
Perdita Nitt traipsed across the road again.
“Er . . . Mrs. Ogg?”