Hogfather

     'I can't see him doing any of those things. I think I'd better tell you ... My grandfather is Death.'

     'Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.'

     'I said Death.'

     'Sorry?'

     'Death. You know ... Death?'

     'You mean the robes, the ...'

     '...scythe, white horse, bones . . .. yes. Death.'

     'I just want to  make  sure I've  got this dear,' said the oh god  in a reasonable tone of voice. 'You think your grandfather is Death and you think he's acting strange?'

     The Eater of Socks looked up  at the wizards, cautiously. Then its jaws started to work again.

     ... grnf, grnf ...

     'Here, thats one of mine!' said the Chair of Indefinite Studies, making a grab. The Eater of Socks backed away hurriedly.

     It looked like a very small elephant with a very wide, flared trunk, up which one of the Chair's socks was disappearing.

     'Funny lookin'  little  thing, ain't it?'  said  Ridcully, leaning  his staff against the wall.

     'Let go, you wretched creature!' said the Chair, making a  grab for the sock. 'Shoo!'

     The sock eater tried  to  get  away while  remaining where it was. This should  be  impossible,  but it is in  fact  a move  attempted by many small animals when they are caught eating  something forbidden.  The legs scrabble hurriedly but the neck and  feverishly working jaws merely stretch  and pivot around  the food. Finally the last of the sock  disappeared  up  the  snout with a faint sucking noise and the creature lumbered off behind one of the boilers. After a while it poked one suspicious eye around the corner to watch them.

     'They're expensive, you know, with  the flaxreinforced heel,'  muttered the Chair of Indefinite Studies.

     Ridcully pulled open a drawer in  his hat  and extracted his pipe and a pouch of  herbal tobacco.  He struck a  match  on  the side  of the  washing engine. This was turning  out  to be a far more  interesting evening than he had anticipated.

     'We've  got  to get  this sorted out,'  he said, as the first few puffs filled  the washing  hall  with  the scent of autumn bonfires.  'Can't  have creatures just popping into existence because someone's thought  about them. It's unhygienic.'

     The sleigh slewed around at the end of Money Trap Lane.

COME ON, ALBERT.

     'You know  you're not supposed to do  this sort of  thing, master.  You know what happened last time.'

THE HOGFATHER CAN DO IT, THOUGH.

     'But  ... little  match girls  dying in  the snow  is part  of what the Hogswatch spirit is all about, master,' said Albert desperately. 'I  mean,  people hear  about it  and say, "We  may be  poorer than a disabled  banana and only  have mud  and old boots to  eat,  but  at least  we're better off than the  poor little  match girl," master. It makes them feel happy and grateful for  what  they've got, see.'

I KNOW WHAT THE SPIRIT OF HOGSWATCH IS, ALBERT.

     'Sorry, master. But, look, it's all right, anyway, because she wakes up and  it's all  bright  and shining and  tinkling  music and  there's angels, master.'

     Death stopped.

AH. THEY TURN UP AT THE LAST MINUTE WITH WARM CLOTHES AND A HOT DRINK?

     Oh dear, thought Albert. The  master's really in one of his funny moods now.

     'Er. No. Not exactly at the last minute, master. Not as such.'

WELL?

     'More sort of just after the last minute.' Albert coughed nervously.

     YOU MEAN AFTER SHE'S...

     'Yes. That's how the story goes, master, 's not my fault.'

WHY NOT TURN UP BEFORE? AN ANGEL HAS QUITE A LARGE CARRYING CAPACITY.

     'Couldn't say, master. I suppose people  think it's more ... satisfying the other way ...' Albert hesitated, and then frowned. 'You know, now that I come to tell someone . .

     Death looked  down at the shape under the falling snow. Then he set the lifetimer on the air and touched it with a finger. A spark flashed across.

     'You ain't really allowed to do that,' said Albert, feeling wretched.

     THE  HOGFATHER CAN.  THE  HOGFATHER GIVES  PRESENTS.  THERE'S NO BETTER PRESENT THAN A FUTURE.

     'Yeah, but...'

ALBERT.

     'All right, master.'

     Death scooped up the girl and strode to the end of the alley.

     The  snowflakes  fen like angel's feathers.  Death stepped out into the street and accosted two figures who were tramping through the drifts.

     TAKE  HER  SOMEWHERE WARM  AND  GIVE HER A  GOOD DINNER, he  commanded, pushing the bundle into the arms of one of them. AND I MAY WELL BE CHECKING UP LATER.

     Then he turned and disappeared into the swirling snow.

     Constable Visit looked down at the little girl in his arms, and then at Corporal Nobbs.

     'What's all this about, corporal?'

     Nobby pulled aside the blanket.

     'Search me,' he said. 'Looks like we've been chosen  to  do  a  bit  of charity.'

     'I don't call it  very charitable, just dumping someone on people  like this.'

     'Come on, there'll still be  some grub  left in  the  Watchhouse,' said Nobby. He'd  got  a very deep and certain  feeling that this was expected of him.  He  remembered  a  big man  in a  grotto, although  he  couldn't quite remember the face. And he couldn't quite remember the face of the person who had handed over the girl, so that meant it must be the same one.