Стража! Стража!

           "What’sitmean?"

           Hargascratchedhisheadwithaladle."Whatitmeansis,"hesaid,"ifthekingcomesinhere,he’lllikeit."

           "Haveyougotanythingthatisn’ttooaristocraticformetoeat,then?"saidVimessourly,andsettledforasliceofplebeianfriedbreadandaproletariansteakcookedsorareyoucouldstillhearitbray.Vimesateitatthecounter.

           Avaguescrapingnoisedisturbedhisthoughts."What’reyoudoing?"hesaid.

           Hargalookedupguiltilyfromhisworkbehindthecounter.

           "Nothing,Cap’n,"hesaid.HetriedtohidetheevidencebehindhimwhenVimesglaredovertheknife-chewedwoodwork.

           "Comeon,Sham.Youcanshowme."

           Harga’sbeefyhandscamereluctantlyintoview.

           "Iwasonlyscrapingtheoldfatoutofthepan,"hemumbled.

           "Isee.Andhowlonghaveweknowneachother,Sham?"saidVimes,withterriblekindness.

           "Years,Cap’n,"saidHarga."Youbincominginherenearlyeveryday,reg’lar.Oneofmybestcustomers."

           VimesleanedoverthecounteruntilhisnosewaslevelwiththesquashypinkthinginthemiddleofHar-ga’sface.

           "Andinallthattime,haveyoueverchangedthefat?"hedemanded.

           Hargatriedtobackaway."Well-"

           "It’sbeenlikeafriendtome,thatoldfat,"saidVimes."There’slittleblackbitsinthereI’vegrowntoknowandlove.It’samealinitself.Andyou’vecleanedoutthecoffeejug,haven’tyou.Icantell.Thisislove-in-a-canoecoffeeifeverItastedit.Theotherstuffhadflavour.