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“We could buy you a much better broomstick,” said Cutangle. “One you don't have to bump start. And you, you could have a flat here. And all the old clothes you can carry,” he added, using the secret weapon. He had wisely invested in some conversation with Mrs Whitlow.
“Mmph,” said Granny, “Silk?”
“Black and red,” said Cutangle. An image of Granny in black and red silk trotted across his mind, and he bit heavily into his scone.
“And maybe we can bring some students out to your cottage in the summer,” Cutangle went on, “for extra-mural studies.”
“Who's Extra Muriel?”
“I mean, there's lots they can learn, I'm sure.”
Granny considered this. Certainly the privy needed a good seeing-to before the weather got too warm, and the goat shed was ripe for the mucking-out by spring. Digging over the Herb bed was a chore, too. The bedroom ceiling was a disgrace, and some of the tiles needed fixing.
“Practical things?” she said, thoughtfully.
“Absolutely,” said Cutangle.
“Mmph. Well, I'll think about it,” said Granny, dimly aware that one should never go too far on a first date.
“Perhaps you would care to dine with me this evening and let me know?” said Cutangle, his eyes agleam.
“What's to eat?”
“Cold meat and potatoes.” Mrs Whitlow had done her work well.
There was.
Esk and Simon went on to develop a whole new type of magic that no one could exactly understand but which nevertheless everyone considered very worthwhile and somehow comforting.
Perhaps more importantly, the ants used all the sugar lumps they could steal to build a small sugar pyramid in one of the hollow walls, in which, with great ceremony, they entombed the mummified body of a dead queen. On the wall of one tiny hidden chamber they inscribed, in insect hieroglyphs, the true secret of longevity.
They got it absolutely right and it would probably have important implications for the universe if it hadn't, next time the University flooded, been completely washed away.
The End
