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Weren’t my fault. Mum! How could I stop ‘em?”
Nanny sat back in the chair, smiling happily
“What them would these be, my son?”
“That young Diamanda and that Perdita and that girl with the red hair from over in Bad Ass and them others. I says to old Peason, I says you’d have something to say, I tole ‘em Mistress Weatherwax’d get her knic—would defi-nitely be sarcastic when she found out,” said Jason. “But they just laughs. They said they could teach ‘emselves witching.”
Nanny nodded. gone.”
Nanny Ogg lit her pipe from the forge. Floppy hat and black nails and education. Oh, dear.
“How many of these gels are there, then?” she said.
“Bout half a dozen. But they’m good at it. Mum.”
“Yeah?”Actually, they were quite right. You could teach yourself witchcraft. But both the teacher and the pupil had to be the right kind of person.“Diamanda?” she said. “Don’t recall the name.”“Really she’s Lucy Tockley,” said Jason. “She says Diamanda is more .. . more witchy.”“Ah. The one that wears the big floppy felt hat?”“Yes, Mum.”“She’s the one that paints her nails black, too?”“Yes, Mum.”“Old Tockley sent her off to school, didn’t he?”“Yes, Mum. She came back while you was