The Worst Witch to the Rescue by Jill Murphy

study.
    ‘There’s a door banging downstairs somewhere,’ said Miss Cackle, offering Miss Hardbroom a biscuit from a large tin. ‘Sounds like a nasty storm’s brewing out there.’
    ‘Very nasty,’ agreed Miss Hardbroom, taking a custard cream and resting it in her saucer. ‘I was just wondering, Miss Cackle, how much longer we have to plough on trying to educate Mildred Hubble in this establishment.’
    ‘Why?’ asked Miss Cackle, looking up from the tin, where she was trying to decide whether to take a chocolate biscuit or a pink wafer, or maybe both. ‘What’s she done now? ’
    ‘Everything,’ said Miss Hardbroom wearily. ‘It would take all night to list the events and we’ve only been back for one day. I don’t think I have the stamina to struggle through the entire term trying to keep Mildred Hubble in some sort of order. I honestly don’t know how she does it – she’s a sort of trouble magnet.’
    ‘But rather sweet, don’t you think?’ said Miss Cackle with a fond smile. ‘Always considering others and sucha good owner to that hopeless cat of hers.’

    ‘That’s all very well,’ said Miss Hardbroom crisply. ‘But having a rather sweet nature doesn’t necessarily equip a girl to be a suitable pupil at this school – the finest witches’ academy for miles around.’
    ‘The only witches’ academy for miles around,’ laughed Miss Cackle, attempting to inject a little humour before her colleague plunged into an endless list of Mildred’s faults.
    ‘What’s that?’ asked Miss Hardbroom, suddenly peering out of the window.
    ‘What’s what ?’ asked Miss Cackle,getting up reluctantly from her comfortable armchair.
    ‘Look,’ said Miss Hardbroom. ‘There’s a light flickering over there.’
    ‘Where, Miss Hardbroom?’ said Miss Cackle. ‘I can’t see anything.’

    ‘Just outside the gates,’ said Miss Hardbroom. ‘It’s disappeared now – no, there it is, higher up. It looks like a giant firefly.’
    ‘We don’t have any giant fireflies, do we?’ asked Miss Cackle hopefully.
    ‘They don’t actually exist, Miss Cackle,’ said Miss Hardbroom witheringly. ‘I’d better go and check.’
    ‘Surely not, Miss Hardbroom!’ exclaimed Miss Cackle. ‘You mustn’t go out there on such a night. I’m sure it’s nothing.’
    ‘It looks like a definite something to me,’ said Miss Hardbroom sternly. ‘It keeps disappearing and then reappearing several metres higher up. Definitely “something” enough to investigate.’

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

    ildred was hovering her way very slowly and carefully up towards the top of the trees outside the school gates. She couldn’t tell which one was the hollow pine yet, but figured that she might be able to see it by its extra height when she reached the very top. She knew it was right in front of the gates, which was a help. The wind was especially ferocious this far up, getting stronger the higher she rose, andthe valiant broomstick kept lurching every time it was hit by a particularly strong gust or a cannon-burst of rain. Mildred’s unsecured cloak didn’t help, billowing like a sail or suddenly twisting above her like a faulty parachute.
    Every now and then, she ducked behind the front row of trees and held on to a branch to have a rest, out of the full force of the storm. The trouble was that if you tried to hover behind the first row of trees, you were blown into the ones behind, which grew very close together. The best way to ascend was, unfortunately, out in the open, even though it was very difficult to keep your balance.
    During one such rest, gasping to get her breath back, Mildred suddenly felt a glow of pride that she was able to control a broomstick in these freak conditions.
    ‘It’s funny what you can do when it’san emergency,’ she thought. ‘Better get going again before my luck runs out.’
    ‘Einstein!’ she called. ‘Einstein! Where are you?’ But the wind whisked her voice away like