Nanny Ogg lit her pipe from the forge. Floppy hat and black nails and education. Oh, dear.

“How many of these gels are there, then?” she said.

“Bout half a dozen. But they'm good at it. Mum.”

“Yeah?”

“And it ain't as if they've been doing anything bad.”

Nanny Ogg stared reflectively at the glow in the forge.

There was a bottomless quality to Nanny Ogg's silences. And also a certain directional component. Jason was quite clear that the silence was being aimed at him.

He always fell for it. He tried to fill it up.

“And that Diamanda's been properly educated,” he said. “She knows some lovely words.”

Silence.

“And I knows you've always said there weren't enough young girls interested in learnin' witching these days,” said Jason. He removed the iron bar and hit it a few times, for the look of the thing.

More silence flowed in Jason's direction.

“They goes and dances up in the mountains every full moon.”

Nanny Ogg removed her pipe and inspected the bowl carefully.

“People do say,” said Jason, lowering his voice, “that they dances in the altogether.”

“Altogether what?” said Nanny Ogg.

“You know. Mum. In the nudd.”

“Cor. There's a thing. Anyone see where they go?”

“Nah. Weaver the thatcher says they always gives him the slip.”

“Jason?”

“Yes, Mum?”

“They bin dancin' around the stones.”

Jason hit his thumb.

===

I couldn't stop picturing her for this whole scene and then the rest of the book.