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'What have you got on your lap?'
'It's my familiar,' she said defensively.
'What happened to that toad you had?'
'It wandered off,' muttered Magrat. 'Anyway, it wasn't very good.'
Granny who sells goldfish that tarnish after a day or two.'
'Anyway, I shall call him Lightfoot,' said Magrat, her voice warm with defiance. 'I can if I want.'
'Yes, yes, all right, I'm sure,' said Granny. 'Anyway, how goes it, sisters? It is two months since last we met.'
'It should be every new moon,' said Magrat sternly. 'Regular.'
'It was our Grame's youngest's wedding,' said Nanny Ogg. 'Couldn't sighed. Magrat's desperate search for a reliable familiar had been going on for some time, and despite the love and attention she lavished on them they all seemed to have some terrible flaw, such as a tendency to bite, get trodden on or, in extreme cases, metamorphose.'That makes fifteen this year,' said Granny. 'Not counting the horse. What's this one?''It's a rock,' chuckled Nanny Ogg.'Well, at least it should last,' said Granny.The rock extended a head and gave her a look of mild amusement.'It's a tortoyse,' said Magrat. 'I bought it down in Sheep-ridge market. It's incredibly old and knows many secrets, the man said.''I know that man,' said Granny. 'He's the one
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