He didn’t wish the simpleton any harm but he wasn’t sure he wanted him appearing on his farm. “Did he speak to you, Pete?” he asked. “Yes.” “What did he say?” “He said, ‘Hullo.’” “Brilliant,” said Peter’s father dryly. “He never says anything to me if I come across him.” “Does he smile at you, Father?” “Smile? No, he’s not like ordinary people. I told you, he’s soft in the head.” That’s what you think, Peter said to himself, remembering what Ninnyhammer had done with the magic wand. Nobody else in the world could do that. Father would never believe me if I told him how Ninnyhammer stopped the stream flowing and then started it again. But I’m not going to tell him. It’s a secret between me and my … well, my friend, I suppose I could call him – my friend the wizard, because that’s what he must be.
