But being a witch and wearing the big black hat was like being a policeman. People saw the uniform, not you. When the mad axeman was running down the street you weren’t allowed to back away muttering, ‘Could you find someone else? Actually, I mostly just do, you know, stray dogs and road safety . . .’ You were there, you had the hat, you did the job. That was a basic rule of witchery: It’s up to you.
