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saved the day,” said Judy. “Have you any idea who it was, Mr. Gruber?”
    But for some reason best known to himself, Paddington’s friend was making haste to wave good night.
    “To sum up,” said Mrs. Bird, as they turned into Windsor Gardens and the familiar green front door of number 32 came into view, “it proves there’s a lot of truth in the old saying ‘A friend in need is a friend indeed.’”



Chapter Four
P ADDINGTON T AKES THE C AKE
    O NE MORNING THE Brown family was about to sit down to breakfast as usual when Mr. Brown noticed something strange going on in the garden.
    “What is Paddington up to!” he said as a familiar figure in a duffle coat dashed past the French windows. “That’s my best broom he’s got hold of.”
    “Perhaps he’s sweeping up,” said Jonathan. “Itlooks as though he’s got a book of instructions.”
    “Even Paddington can’t need instructions to sweep the patio,” said Mr. Brown.
    “Besides, it’s my lawn broom. It’s a special one made of twigs.”
    “Quick!” cried Judy as a shadowy figure shot past, heading back the way it had come. “There he goes again!”
    From the brief glimpse they had, it looked as though Paddington was trying to keep the business end of Mr. Brown’s broom between his legs with one paw while at the same time wave a book up and down with his other, not unlike a bird that had fallen out of its nest and was learning to fly.
    A moment later there was a loud clatter from somewhere outside, and a dustbin lid rolled slowly past the French windows.
    Jonathan jumped to his feet. “It sounds as though he’s had a crash landing,” he cried.
    “Are you surprised?” asked Judy. “He had his eyes closed.”
    “It isn’t like him to go rushing around thegarden before breakfast,” broke in Mrs. Brown. “I do hope he’s all right.”
    “He was as right as rain when he went to bed last night,” said Judy. “I met him on the landing. He said he was going to do his accounts.”
    “Perhaps he found he was overdrawn,” said Mr. Brown. “I’d better have a quiet word with him after breakfast.”
    Mrs. Bird gave a snort as she came into the room carrying a coffeepot. “There’s nothing wrong with that bear’s accounts,” she said. “If you ask me, he’s planning something. Earlier on he was asking me if I had any pumpkins.”
    “Ssh!” warned Mrs. Brown. “Here he comes.”
    The Browns were only just in time. They had scarcely settled down, trying to look as though butter wouldn’t melt in their mouths, when Paddington entered the room.
    After mopping his brow several times with a napkin, he joined them at the table, and while he was unscrewing the lid on the marmalade jar they managed to get a closer look at his book.
    Most of the cover was filled with the silhouetteof an elderly lady astride a broomstick. The pointed hat she wore matched her sharply pointed nose as she hovered above a row of chimney pots. Far from being called Teach Yourself to Fly , the book bore the words Everything You Need to Know About Witches, Warlocks, and Hobgoblins .
    Mr. Brown gave a groan. “Of course! It’s October thirty-first.”
    “Halloween,” said Judy.
    “Trick-or-treat time,” added Jonathan.
    Paddington spread a liberal helping of marmalade on his freshly buttered toast.
    “Mr. Gruber lent it to me,” he explained. “I haven’t read anything about warlocks or hobgoblins yet, but there’s a very good chapter on witches and making masks. And there’s another one telling you how to decorate a patio using lanterns made out of hollowed-out pumpkins. They’re called jack-o’-lanterns, and if you put a lighted candle inside them it keeps evil spirits away.
    “There’s another chapter on superstitions,” he continued. “It says if you take a three-legged stool and sit at some crossroads while the church clockstrikes midnight, it will tell you the names of all those who will die during the next twelve months.”
    “Very cheering, I