Read Maskerade for Free Online Page B

matter,’ she said.
    â€˜You’ve never been very good at numbers, have you?’ said Granny. Now she drew a circle around the final figure.
    â€˜Oh, you know me, Esme,’ said Nanny cheerfully. ‘I couldn’t subtract a fart from a plate of beans.’
    â€˜That’s good, ’cos I reckon this Master Goatberger owes you a bit more than you got, if there’s any justice in the world,’ said Granny.
    â€˜Money ain’t everything, Esme. What I say is, if you’ve got your health—’
    â€˜I reckon, if there’s any justice, it’s about four or five thousand dollars,’ said Granny quietly.
    There was a crash from the scullery.
    â€˜So it’s a good job the money don’t matter,’ Granny Weatherwax went on. ‘It’d be a terrible thing otherwise. All that money, matterin’.’
    Nanny Ogg’s white face appeared around the edge of the door. ‘He never!’
    â€˜Could be a bit more,’ said Granny.
    â€˜It never!’
    â€˜You just adds up and divides and that.’
    Nanny Ogg stared in horrified fascination at her own fingers.
    â€˜But that’s a—’ She stopped. The only word she could think of was ‘fortune’ and that wasn’t adequate. Witches didn’t operate in a cash economy. The whole of the Ramtops, by and large, got by without the complications of capital. Fifty dollars was a fortune. A hundred dollars was a, was a, was … well, it was two fortunes, that was what it was.
    â€˜It’s a lot of money,’ she said weakly. ‘What couldn’t I do with money like that?’
    â€˜Dunno,’ said Granny Weatherwax. ‘What did you do with the three dollars?’
    â€˜Got it in a tin up the chimney,’ said Nanny Ogg.
    Granny nodded approvingly. This was the kind of good fiscal practice she liked to see.
    â€˜Beats me why people’d fall over themselves to read a cookery book, though,’ she added. ‘I mean, it’s not the sort of thing that—’
    The room fell silent. Nanny Ogg shuffled her boots.
    Granny said, in a voice laden with a suspicion that was all the worse because it wasn’t yet quite sure what it was suspicious of: ‘It is a cookery book, isn’t it?’
    â€˜Oh, yes,’ said Nanny hurriedly, avoiding Granny’s gaze. ‘Yes. Recipes and that. Yes.’
    Granny glared at her. ‘ Just recipes?’
    â€˜Yes. Oh, yes. Yes. And some … cookery anecdotes, yes.’
    Granny went on glaring.
    Nanny gave in.
    â€˜Er … look under Famous Carrot and Oyster Pie,’ she said. ‘Page 25.’
    Granny turned the pages. Her lips moved silently. Then: ‘I see . Anything else?’
    â€˜Er … Cinnamon and Marshmallow Fingers … page 17 …’
    Granny looked it up.
    â€˜And?’
    â€˜Er … Celery Astonishment … page 10.’
    Granny looked that up, too.
    â€˜Can’t say it astonished me ,’ she said. ‘And …?’
    â€˜Er … well, more or less all of Humorous Puddings and Cake Decoration. That’s all of Chapter Six. I done illustrations for that.’
    Granny turned to Chapter Six. She had to turn the book around a couple of times.
    â€˜What one you looking at?’ said Nanny Ogg, because an author is always keen to get feedback.
    â€˜Strawberry Wobbler,’ said Granny.
    â€˜Ah. That one always gets a laugh.’
    It did not appear to be obtaining one from Granny. She carefully closed the book.
    â€˜Gytha,’ she said, ‘this is me askin’ you this. Is there any page in this book, is there any single recipe, which does not in some way relate to … goings-on?’
    Nanny Ogg, her face red as her apples, seemed to give this some lengthy consideration.
    â€˜Porridge,’ she said, eventually.
    â€˜Really?’
    â€˜Yes. Er. No, I tell a lie, it’s got my special honey mixture in