'Sir, you presume a rule where there is none. Remember what I said about the real nature of the game.'
Ponder saw Nutt's little half-smile, and gave in. 'Mister Nutt, I am delegating the selection and training of our football team to you. You will report to me, of course.'
'Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I will need the power to sequester team members from their normal duties when required.'
'Well, I suppose I must agree to that. Very well, I shall leave the team in your hands,' said Ponder, thinking: how many bags of old clothes use the word 'sequester' as if they're used to it? Still, Ridcully likes the little goblin, if that's what he is, and I've never seen the point of team games.
'May I also, sir, request a very small budget?'
'Why?'
'With all due respect to the exigencies of university finances,' said Nutt, 'I believe it is very necessary.'
'Why?'
'I wish to take the team to the ballet.'
'That's ridiculous!' Ponder snapped.
'No, sir, it's essential.'
The next day there was a piece in the Times about the mysterious disappearance of the fabulous 'Jewels', which made Glenda smile. They just haven't read their fairy stories, she thought as she left the house. If you want to find a beauty, you look for her in the ashes. Because Glenda was Glenda and would always irredeemably be Glenda to the core, she added: although the ovens in the Night Kitchen are scrupulously maintained at all times and all ashes are immediately disposed of.
To her surprise, Juliet stepped out of her doorway at almost the same time and looked as if she was almost awake. 'Do you think they'll let me in on the banquet?' she said as they waited for the bus.
Theoretically yes, Glenda thought, but probably no, because she was a Night Kitchen girl. Even though she was Juliet, she would be tarred by Mrs Whitlow as a Night Kitchen girl. 'Juliet, you shall go to the banquet,' she said aloud, 'and so shall I.'
'But I think Mrs Whitlow won't like that,' said Juliet.
Something was still bubbling inside Glenda. It had started in Shatta and lasted all day yesterday and there was still some left today. 'I don't care,' she said.
Juliet giggled and looked around in case Mrs Whitlow was hiding near the bus stop.
And I really don't care, Glenda thought. I don't care. It was like drawing a sword.
Ponder's office always puzzled Mustrum Ridcully. The man used filing cabinets for heavens' sake. Ridcully worked on the basis that anything you couldn't remember wasn't important and had developed the floor-heap method of document storage to a fine art.
Ponder looked up. 'Ah, good morning, Archchancellor.'
'Just had a look in at the Hall,' said Ridcully.
'Yes, Archchancellor?'
'Our lads were all doing ballet.'
'Yes, Archchancellor.'
'And there were some girls from the Opera House with those short dresses.'
'Yes, Archchancellor. They're helping the team.'
Ridcully leaned over and put huge knuckles either side of the paper Ponder was working on. 'Why?'
'Mister Nutt's idea, Archchancellor. Apparently they must learn balance, poise and elegance.'
'Have you ever seen Bledlow Nobbs try to stand on one leg? Let me tell you, it's an immediate cure for melancholy.'
'I can imagine,' said Ponder, not looking up.