'On the second day of Hogswatch I ... sent my true love back

     A  nasty  little  letter, hah,  yes indeed,  and a partridge in a  pear tree ...'

     The  gnome  slid down  onto the tiles  and crept up  behind the briskly shaking shape.

     Ridcully, after a few more trial  runs, settled on a song which evolves somewhere on every planet where there are winters. It's often dragooned into the service  of some local religion  and a few words are changed,  but  it's really about things that  have to do with  gods only  in the same  way  that roots have to do with leaves.

     '...the rising of the sun, and the running of the deer ...'

     Ridcully spun. A  corner of  wet towel caught the  gnome on the ear and flicked it onto its back.

     'I  saw you creeping up!' roared the  Archchancellor. 'What's the game, then? Small-time thief, are you?'

     The gnome slid backwards on the soapy surface.

     ' 'ere, what's your game, mister, you ain't supposed to be able to see me!'

     'I'm a wizard! We can see things that are really there, you know,' said Ridcully. 'And in the  case of  the Bursar,  things that aren't  there, too. What's in this bag?'

     'You don't wanna open the bag,  mister! You really don't wanna open the bag!'

     'Why? What have you got in it?'

     The gnome sagged.  'It  ain't what's in  it,  mister. It's what'll come out. I has to let 'em out one at  a time, no knowin' what'd happen  if  they all gets out at once!'

     Ridcully looked interested, and started to undo the string.

     'You'll really wish you hadn't, mister!' the gnome pleaded.

     'Will I? What're you doing here, young man?'

     The gnome gave up.

     'Well ... you know the Tooth Fairy?'

     'Yes. Of course,' said Ridcully.

     'Well ... I ain't her. But ... it's sort of like the same business ...'

     'What? You take things away?'

     'Er not take away, as such. More sort of ... bring ...

     'Ah ... like new teeth?'

     'Er ... like new verrucas,' said the gnome.

     Death threw the sack into the  back  of the sledge and climbed in after it.

     'You're doing well, master,' said Albert.

     THIS CUSHION  IS STILL UNCOMFORTABLE, said Death, hitching his belt.  I AM NOT USED TO A BIG FAT STOMACH.

     'Just a stomach's the best I could do, master. You're starting off with a handicap, sort of thing.'

     Albert  unscrewed the top off a bottle of cold tea.  All the sherry had made him thirsty.

     'Doing well, master,' he repeated, taking a pull. 'All the  soot in the fireplace, the footprints, them swigged sherries, the sleigh tracks all over the roofs ... it's got to work.'

YOU THINK SO?

     'Sure.'

     AND I MADE SURE SOME OF THEM SAW ME. I  KNOW IF THEY ARE PEEPING, Death added proudly.

     'Well done, sir.'

YES.

     'Though here's  a tip, though. Just "Ho.  Ho.  Ho,- will do. Don't say, "Cower, brief mortals" unless you want them to grow up to be moneylenders or some such.'

HO. HO. HO.

     'Yes,  you're  really  getting  the  hang of it.'  Albert  looked  down hurriedly at his notebook so that  Death wouldn't see  his face. 'Now, I got to tell you, master, what'll really do some  good  is  a public  appearance. Really.'

     OH. I DON'T NORMALLY DO THEM.

     'The Hogfather's  more've a public figure,  master. And one good public appearance'll do  more  good  than any  amount  of letting kids  see  you by accident. Good for the old belief muscles.'

REALLY? HO. HO. HO.

     'Right,  right, that's really good, master. Where was I ... yes ... the shops'll  be open late. Lots of kiddies get taken  to see the Hogfather, you see. Not the real one, of course. just  some ole geezer with a pillow up his jumper, saving yer presence, master.'

NOT REAL? HO. HO. HO.

     'Oh, no. And you don't need...'

THE CHILDREN KNOW THIS? HO. HO. HO.

     Albert scratched his nose. 'S'pose so, master.'

THIS  SHOULD NOT BE.  NO WONDER THERE HAS BEEN ... THIS  DIFFICULTY. BELIEF WAS COMPROMISED? HO. HO. HO.

     'Could be, master. Er, the "ho, ho ..."'

WHERE DOES THIS TRAVESTY TAKE PLACE? HO. HO. HO.

     Albert gave up.  'Well, Crumley's in The  Maul, for  one. Very popular, the Hogfather Grotto. They always have a good Hogfather, apparently.'

     LET'S GET THERE AND SLEIGH THEM. HO. HO. HO.

     'Right you are, master.'

     THAT WAS A PUNE OR PLAY ON WORDS, ALBERT. I DON'T KNOW IF YOU NOTICED.

     'I'm laughing like hell deep down, sir.'

HO. HO. HO.

     Archchancellor Ridcully grinned.

     He often grinned. He was  one  of  those men who grinned even when they were annoyed, but right now he grinned  because  he was proud. A little sore still, perhaps, but still proud.

     'Amazing  bathroom, ain't  it?' he said. 'They  had  it  walled up, you know. Damn silly thing  to  do. I mean,  perhaps there were  a few  teething troubles,' he  shifted gingerly,  'but  that's only to be expected. It's got everything, d'you see? Foot baths in the shape of clam shells, look. A whole wardrobe  for dressing gowns.  And  that tub over there's  got  a big blower thingy so's you get  bubbly  water without even havin'  to eat starchy food. And  this  thingy here with the mermaids  holdin'  it up's a special pot for your toenail clippings. It's got everything, this place.'

     'A special pot for nail clippings?' said the Verruca Gnome.

     'Oh, can't be too careful,' said Ridcully, lifting the lid of an ornate jar marked BATH  SALTS  and  pulling  out a  bottle of  wine. 'Get  hold  of something  like someone's  nail  clipping and  you've  got 'em  under your control. That's real old magic. Dawn of time stuff.'

     He held the wine bottle up to the light.

     'Should  be  cooled  nicely  by  now,' he  said, extracting  the  cork. 'Verrucas, eh?'

     'Wish I knew why,' said the gnome.

     'You mean you don't know?'

     'Nope. Suddenly I wake up and I'm the Verruca Gnome.'

     'Puzzling, that,' said Ridcully. 'My dad used to say the Verruca  Gnome turned up if you walked around in bare feet but  I never knew you existed. I thought he just  made it  up. I mean, tooth  fairies,  yes,  and them little buggers that live in flowers, used to collect 'em myself as a lad, but can't recall  anything  about  verrucas.' He  drank thoughtfully. 'Cot  a  distant cousin  called Verruca, as a matter of fact.  It's quite a nice sound,  when you come to think of it.'

     He looked at the gnome over the top of his glass.

     You didn't become Archchancellor without a feeling for subtle wrongness in a situation. Well,  that  wasn't quite true. It was  more accurate to say that you didn't remain Archchancellor for very long.

     'Good job, is it?' he said thoughtfully.

     'Dandruff'd  be better,'  said the gnome. 'At  least I'd  be out in the fresh air.'

     'I think we'd better check  up on  this,' said Ridcully. 'Of course, it might be nothing.'

     'Oh, thank you,' said the Verruca Gnome, gloomily.

     It was a magnificent Grotto this year, Vernon Crumley told himself. The staff  had  worked really hard. The Hogfather's sleigh was a work of art  in itself, and the pigs looked really real and a wonderful shade of pink.

     The Grotto took up nearly all of the first floor. One of the pixies had been  Disciplined for smoking  behind  the  Magic Tinkling Waterfall and the clockwork Dolls of All Nations showing how We Could All Get Along were a bit jerky and giving trouble but all in all, he  told himself, it was a  display to Delight the Hearts of Kiddies everywhere.