“Howdy! I fig-urred I’d start in the barn,” he greeted them in an overly-affected drawl.
“Hello. Who are you?” Eleanor asked.
“I’m Floyd,” he announced. Proudly, as if she should have heard of him.
“And what brings you here?” Rob urged the little man to go on.
“Welllll,” Floyd began, “There is life here again. Yawl need a Hob to keep the place tip top.” He waggled his eyebrows, smiled a salesman’s smile, and jerked his thumb at his chest. “I’m your Hob. I’ll have this place sparklin’ faster ‘n you kin shake a stick. Then I’ll hit the house. Hobs, see, are better ‘n 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 never mind to me.”
“We have a brownie already,” Patters informed him. “Three of them.”
"We do?” The kids spun around, incredulous.
“Yes. In the house, where they belong. And this barn is already being looked after. By me. Your services are not needed,” she dismissed the Hob.
“Now, now, Ma’am. Let’s not be too hasty. I think you’ll find my compny to yer likin’,” he said.
“And knock off that ridiculous accent. I know perfectly well you speak properly,” Patters snapped. “No, I think we’re fine here. You may move along.”
“Too late, honey. I did the ritual,” he informed her.
Patter’s eyes narrowed and she hissed. “You stay out of my way. And you be discreet – we have humans who are not aware,” she said.
“Wait – what ritual?” Rob asked.
“The Hob ritual. When we take up new residence we perform a ritual pledging our service and fealty. We take a stone from the property and swear allegiance, and we must wear 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. It really hurts, too.” He explained to the kids. He turned back to Patters. “So it’s a done deal. I’m here to stay.”
The cat stomped off, thoroughly disgusted.
Sketch by Toni DiTerlizzi I hope he will forgive an ardent fan
