Humans liked dancing pigs, too. And lambs  in hats. As far as Death was aware, the sole  reason for any human association with pigs and lambs was as a  prelude  to chops  and sausages.  Quite  why  they  should  dress up  for children's wallpaper as well was a mystery. Hello, little folk, this is what you're going  to eat... He felt that  if only he could find  the key  to it, he'd know a lot more about human beings.

     His gaze travelled  to  the door. Susan's governess  coat and  hat were hanging on it. The  coat was grey, and so  was the  hat. Grey and round  and dull. Death didn't know many things about the human psyche, but he  did know protective coloration when he saw it.

     Dullness.  Only humans could  have  invented it. What imaginations they had.

     The door opened.

     To his horror, Death saw a small  child of unidentifiable gender come out of the bedroom, amble  sleepily across  the floor and unhook the  stockings  from  the mantelpiece. It was halfway back before it noticed him  and  then it  simply stopped and regarded him thoughtfully.

     He knew  that young  children could  see  him because they  hadn't  yet developed  that  convenient  and  selective blindness  that comes  with  the intimation of personal mortality. He felt a little embarrassed.

     'Susan's gotta poker, you know,' it said, as if anxious to be helpful.

WELL, WELL. INDEED. MY GOODNESS ME.

     'I fort -  thought all of  you knew  that now.  Larst -  last week  she picked a bogey up by its nose.'

     Death tried to imagine this. He felt sure he'd heard the sentence wrong but it didn't sound a whole lot better however he rearranged the words.

     'I'll give Gawain his stocking  and then I'll come an' watch,' said the child. It padded out.

     ER... SUSAN? Death said, calling in reinforcements.

     Susan backed out of the kitchen, a black kettle in her hand.

     There was a figure behind her. In the half-light the sword gleamed blue along its blade. Its glitter reflected off one glass eye.

     'Well, well,' said Teatime,  quietly, glancing at  Death. 'Now this  is unexpected. A family affair?'

     The sword hummed back and forth.

     'I wonder,' said Teatime, 'is it possible to kill Death? This must be a

very special sword and it certainly works here...' He raised a hand to his

     mouth for a moment and gave  a little chuckle.  'And of course it might

well not be regarded as murder. Possibly it  is a civic act. It would be, as

they say, The Big One. Stand up,  sir. You may  have some personal knowledge

about your vulnerability but I'm pretty certain that Susan  here would quite

definitely die, so I'd rather you didn't try any last-minute stuff.'

     I AM LAST-MINUTE STUFF, said Death, standing up.

     Teatime circled around carefully, the sword's tip  making little curves

in the air.

     From the next room came the  sound of someone trying  to blow a whistle

quietly.

     Susan glanced at her grandfather.

     'I  don't  remember them asking  for anything  that  made a noise,' she

said.

     OH, THERE HAS TO BE SOMETHING IN THE STOCKING THAT MAKES A  NOISE, said

Death. OTHERWISE WHAT is 4.30 A.M. FOR?

     'There are children?' said Teatime. 'Oh yes, of course. Call them.'

     'Certainly not!'

     'It will be instructive,' said  Teatime. 'Educational.  And  when  your

adversary is Death, you cannot help but be the good guy.'

     He pointed the sword at Susan.

     'I said call them.'

     Susan glanced hopefully at her grandfather. He nodded. For a moment she

thought she saw  the  glow  in one eye socket flicker  off and  on,  Death's

equivalent of a wink. He's got a plan. He can stop time. He can do anything.

He's got a plan.

     'Gawain? Twyla?'

     The muffled  noises stopped  in the next room. There  was  a padding of

feet and two solemn faces appeared round the door.

     'Ah, come in, come in, curly-haired tots,' said Teatime genially.

     Gawain gave him a steely stare.

     His  next mistake, thought Susan. If  he'd called  them little bastards

he'd have them bang on his side. But they know when you're sending them up.

     'I've caught  this bogeyman,' said Teatime. 'What shall we do with him,

eh?'

     The two faces turned to Death. Twyla put her thumb in her mouth.

     'It's only a skeleton,' said Gawain critically.

     Susan opened her  mouth, and the sword  swung towards her. She  shut it

again.

     'Yes, a nasty, creepy, horrible skeleton,' said Teatime. 'Scary, eh?'

     There was a very faint 'pop' as Twyla took her thumb out of her mouth.

     'He's eating a bittit,' she said.

     'Biscuit,'  Susan corrected  automatically.  She started to  swing  the

kettle in an absent-minded way.

     'A creepy bony man in a black robe!'  said  Teatime,  aware that things

weren't going in quite the right direction.

     He spun  round to face Susan. 'You're fidgeting  with that kettle,'  he

said. 'So I expect you're thinking of doing something creative. Put it down,

please. Slowly.'

     Susan knelt down gently and put the kettle on the hearth.

     'Huh,   that's   not  very  creepy,  it's  just   bones,'  said  Gawain

dismissively. 'And anyway  Willie the groom down at the stables has promised

me a real horse  skull. And anyway I'm going to make a  hat  out of  it like

General Tacticus had when he wanted to frighten people. And anyway it's just

standing  there. It's not  even  making woo-  woo noises. And  anyway you're

creepy. Your eye's weird.'

     'Really?  Then  let's see how creepy I can be,' said Teatime. Blue fire

crackled along the sword as he raised it.

     Susan closed her hand over the poker.

     Teatime saw her start to turn. He stepped behind Death, sword raised...

     Susan  threw  the  poker  overarm. It  made a ripping  noise as it shot

through the air, and trailed sparks.

     It hit Death's robe and vanished.

     He blinked.

     Teatime smiled at Susan.

     He turned and peered dreamily at the sword in his hand.

     It fell out of his fingers.

     Death turned and caught it by the handle as it  tumbled, and turned its

fall into an upward curve.

     Teatime looked down at the poker in his chest as he folded up.

     'Oh, no,' he said. 'It couldn't have gone

     through you. There are so many ribs and things!'

     There was another 'pop' as Twyla extracted her thumb and said, 'It only

kills monsters.'

     'Stop time now,' commanded Susan.

     Death snapped  his  fingers.  The room took  on the  greyish purple  of

stationary time. The clock paused its ticking.

     'You winked at me! I thought you had a plan!'

INDEED. OH, YES. I PLANNED TO SEE WHAT YOU WOULD DO.

     'Just that?'

YOU ARE VERY RESOURCEFUL. AND OF COURSE YOU HAVE HAD AN EDUCATION.

     'What?'

I DID ADD THE SPARKLY STARS AND THE NOISE, THOUGH. I THOUGHT THEY WOULD

BE APPROPRIATE.

     'And if I hadn't done anything?'

I DARESAY I WOULD HAVE THOUGHT OF SOMETHING. AT THE LAST MINUTE.

     'That was the last minute!'

THERE IS ALWAYS TIME FOR ANOTHER LAST MINUTE.

     'The children had to watch that!'

EDUCATIONAL. THE WORLD  WILL TEACH THEM ABOUT MONSTERS SOON ENOUGH. LET

THEM REMEMBER THERE's ALWAYS THE POKER.

     'But they saw he's human--'

I THINK THEY HAD A VERY GOOD IDEA OF WHAT HE WAS.

     Death prodded the fallen Teatime with his foot.

STOP PLAYING DEAD, MISTER TEH-AH-TIM-EH.