The Hob was three and a half feet tall, sturdy, and suitably attired in a red plaid shirt and overalls. Sporting a straw hat and whistling, he stopped what he was doing when he saw the children approaching.
“Howdy! I fig-urred
I’d start in the barn,” he greeted them in an overly affected drawl.
“Hi. Who’re you?”
Eleanor asked.
“I’m Floyd,” he
announced. Proudly, as if she should have heard of him.
“And what brings you
here?” Rob asked.
“Wa-l-l-l,” Floyd
began, “there’s life here again. Y’all need a Hob to keep the place tiptop.” He
waggled his eyebrows, smiled a salesman’s smile, and jerked his thumb at his
own chest. “I’m your Hob. I’ll have this place sparkling faster than you kin
shake a stick. Then I’ll hit the house. Hobs, see, are better ‘n Goblins, Tomtes,
or Brownies. Tomte’s are prickly, peevish types. They’re all hairy, too. And
Brownies are housebound. I can work inside or out. House, barn, makes no nevermind
to me.”
“We have a Goblin,”
Patters informed him. “And Brownies.”
“We do?” The kids all
asked at the same time, surprised.
“Yes. In the house
where they belong. This barn is already being looked after. By me. Your
services are not needed,” she dismissed the Hob.
“Now, now. Let’s not
be too hasty. I think you’ll find my comp’ny to yer likin’,” he said.
“And knock off that
ridiculous accent,” Patters snapped. “I know you speak properly. No, we’re fine
here. You may move along.”
“Too late, honey. I
did the ritual.”
Patter’s eyes
narrowed and she hissed. “You stay out of my way. And be discreet—we have Humans
who aren’t aware,” she said.
“Wait. What ritual?”
Rob asked.
“The Hob ritual. When
we take a new residence, we perform a ritual pledging our service and fealty. We
choose a stone from the property and swear allegiance, and we must carry the
stone at all times. I have mine here on my watch fob.” He lifted a pocket watch
from the front of his overalls and showed it to the kids. “It also renews our
magic. A Hob with no home has faulty magic. But the rule is clear. One Hob
family per residence. If a ritual has already been performed by a residing Hob,
the squatter Hob gets their fingers singed when he or she tries to perform the
ritual. Smarts, too,” he added, rubbing his fingers with a frown. He gave
Patters a triumphant look. “So it’s a done deal. I’m here to stay.”
Patters turned to
the kids and said, “You’ll regret this. You’ll see. Before you know it, he’ll
be Lord of The Manor.” She stomped off, tail stiff in the air.
The Keeper and the Alabaster Chalice (Kindle)
The Keeper and the Alabaster Chalice (Nook)
The Keeper and the Alabaster Chalice (iTunes)
The Keeper and the Alabaster Chalice (Nook)
The Keeper and the Alabaster Chalice (iTunes)
