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and the click, click of Miss Dibdin’s neat, high heels. As they drew level with his hiding place, the footsteps stopped.
    â€˜You must wait a minute, Katie. I’ve got a stone in my shoe, and if you think I’m going to run all the way home to Fairfax Market, you’re very much mistaken,’ Miss Dibdin said tartly. ‘You must admit it’s a pretty how-do-you-do. No rocking chair to take us homeand no money for a bus, thanks to your saying witches don’t carry handbags.’

    â€˜It’s them children again, I’m sure of it!’ growled Mrs Cantrip. ‘I knew there’d be trouble the minute I set eyes on ’em.’
    John could hear the sound of an approaching car, but did not dare to look up to see if it was Mr Featherstone.
    â€˜And now how are we to get there tomorrow night, I should like to know?’ Miss Dibdin asked. ‘The highest building in Broomhurst you said it was. We shall just have to hurry up with that broom. Oh, I know you can’t do anything, but you can tell me how to finish it.’
    â€˜What, both of us ride tandem on a young broom that’s not been broken in?’ said Mrs Cantrip. ‘Madness, I call it! You’d ruin its temper for life. But we’ll get there somehow, if it’s only to get even with those children. Not that it isn’t as nice a bit of mischief as I’ve seen in a month of wet Mondays. Don’t be all day with that shoe!’
    â€˜Well, I suppose there’s nothing for it,’ said Miss Dibdin briskly. ‘We shall just have to walk the six miles home. You can teach me that handy little spell for turning milk sour as we go.’
    As John listened to their retreating footsteps, a car passed his hiding place and drew up a little farther on. He looked cautiously over the wall. Thetwo women had started off at a rapid pace. He saw with relief that Mr Featherstone was standing by the van. He raced up to him.
    â€˜Hello!’ he said. ‘Where’s Rosie? Had a good time?’
    â€˜Super!’ said John. ‘Rosie… er… was given a lift home by someone she knows,’ he said lamely.
    â€˜Really? How very strange of her,’ said Mr Featherstone in a puzzled voice. ‘Have you two had a row? You sound rather gloomy. Well, if she gets back safely I suppose that’s all that matters.’
    John most heartily agreed.
    It was a silent drive home. John was far too busy with his thoughts for conversation. Quite clearly, Mrs Cantrip, although she had retired from being a witch herself, was instructing Miss Dibdin, and both of them were planning mischief with the cats of Broomhurst. Worse still was his anxiety about Rosemary.
    When they reached home, John thanked Mr Featherstone and rushed to the greenhouse to see if the kittens were safe. He burst in at the door.
    â€˜Are they safe, Woppit?’ he asked. ‘The kittens, I mean?’
    â€˜They’re safe enough,’ said Woppit.
    â€˜Look here, no matter what happens don’t let them out of your sight for a minute,’ said John. ‘There may be trouble brewing. I’ll come and explain as soon as I can, but I must go now. I know I can trust you!’
    â€˜Trust me?’ said Woppit indignantly. ‘And who better, I’d like to know. To the last whisker!’

9

The Walled Garden
    Rosemary had seen Mrs Cantrip and Miss Dibdin burst into a run when they caught sight of the rocking chair climbing steeply into the air, but when she saw John hide himself in the half-built house, she gave a sigh of relief. It gave her something else to think about besides the dizzy feeling in her head and the sudden emptiness of her inside.
    â€˜This must have been what Mrs Cantrip meant when she said, “There’s other ways than walking.”’ Rosemary said to herself. ‘I don’t expect I’ve anything to be frightened about,’ she went on severely, taking a firm grip of the