Once More With Footnotes

continued.
     
                  "Er ... sorting out rags, are you?" said Nanny . "Going to make that quilt?"
     
                  It was one of Granny Weatherwax's firm beliefs that one day she'd make a patchwork quilt. However, it is a task that requires patience, and hence in fifteen years she'd got as far as three patches. But she collected old clot hes anyway. A lot of witches did. It was a witch thing. Old clothes had personality, like old houses. When it came to clothes with a bit of wear left in them, a witch had no pride at all.
     
                  "It's in here somewhere ..." Granny mumbled. "Aha, here we are ... "
     
                  She flourished a garment. It was basically pink.
     
                  "Knew it was here," she went on. "Hardly worn, either. And about my size, too."
     
                  "You're going to wear it?" said Nanny.
     
                  Granny's piercing blue cut-you-off-at-the-knees gaze was turned upon her. Nann y would have been relieved at a reply like, "No, I'm going to eat it, you daft old fool". Instead her friend relaxed and said, a little concerned:
     
                  "You don't think it'd suit me?"
     
                  There was lace around the collar. Nanny swallowed. "You usually wear blac k," she said. "Well, a bit more than usually. More like always."
     
                  "And a very sad sight I look, too," said Granny robustly. "It's about time I brightened myself up a bit, don't you think? "
     
                  " And it's so very ... pink."
     
                  Granny put it aside and to Nanny's horror took her by the hand and said earnestly, "And, you know, I reckon I've been far too dog-in-the-manger about this Trials business, Gytha — "
     
                  "Bitch-in-the-manger," said Nanny Ogg, absent-mindedly.
     
                  For a moment Granny's eyes became two sapphires aga in.
     
                  "What?"
     
                  "Er ... you'd be a bitch-in-the-manger," Nanny mumbled. "Not a dog."
     
                  "Ah? Oh, yes. Thank you for pointing that out. Well, I thought, it is time I stepped back a bit, and went along and cheered on the younger folks. I mean, I have to say, I ... really haven't been very nice to people, have I ..."
     
                  "Er ..."
     
                  "I've tried being nice," Granny went on. "It didn't turn out like I expected, I'm sorry to say."
     
                  "You've never been really ... good at nice," said Nanny.
     
                  Granny smiled. Hard though she stared, Nanny was unable to spot anything other than earnest concern.
     
                  "Perhaps I'll get better with practice," she said.
     
                  She patted Nanny's hand. And Nanny stared at her hand as though something horrible had happened to it.
     
                  "It's just that every one's more used to you being ... firm," she said.
     
                  "I thought I might make some jam and cakes for the produce stall," said Granny.
     
                  "Oh ... good."
     
                  "Are there any sick people want visitin'?"
     
                  Nanny stared at the trees. It was getting worse and worse. S he rummaged in her memory for anyone in the locality sick enough to warrant a ministering visit but still well enough to survive the shock of a ministering visit by Granny Weatherwax. When it came to practical psychology and the more robust type of folk p h ysiotherapy Granny was without equal; in fact, she could even do the latter at a distance, for many a pain-wracked soul had left their beds and walked, nay, run at the news that she was coming.
     
                  "Everyone's pretty well at the moment," said Nanny diplomati cally. "Any old folk want cheerin' up?"
     
                  It was taken for granted by both women that old people did not include them. A witch aged ninety-seven would not have included herself. Old people happened to other people.
     
                  "All fairly cheerful right now," said N anny.
     
                  "Maybe I could tell stories to the kiddies?"
     
                  Nanny nodded. Granny had done that once before,