Paddington on Top. Michael Bond

I’m not asking thirty-five. I’m not even asking thirty. To you, because I like the look of your face, and because I think you’re just the sort of bear we are looking for, twenty-five pounds!”

      His voice took on a confidential tone. “If I was to tell you the names of some of the people I’ve sold cleaners to, you probably wouldn’t believe me. But I won’t bore you with details like that. You’re probably asking yourself what you have to do in order to earn all this money, right? Well, I’ll tell you.

      “You sell this cleaner for thirty pounds, right? You then buy two more cleaners for twenty-five pounds each and sell them for thirty, making fifteen pounds in all, right? Then you either keep the money or you buy six more cleaners and sell those. If you work hard, you’ll make a fortune so fast you won’t even have time to get to the bank.

      “Another thing you may be asking yourself,” he continued, before Paddington had time to say anything, “is why anyone who already has a vacuum cleaner should buy one of ours?”

      He gave the box another slap. “Never fear, it’s all in here. Ask no questions, tell no lies. With our new cleaner, you can suck up anything. Dirt, muck, ashes, soot… pile it all on, anything you like. A flick of the switch and whoosh, it’ll disappear in a flash.

      “But,” he warned, “you’ll have to hurry. I’ve a queue of customers waiting round the next corner.”

      Paddington needed no second bidding. It wasn’t every day such an offer came his way, and he felt sure he would be able to buy an awful lot of cocoa for fifteen pounds. Hurrying behind a nearby car, he bent down and opened his suitcase.

      “Thank you very much,” said the man, as Paddington counted out twenty-five shiny one pound coins. “Sorry I can’t stop, guv, but work calls…”

      Paddington had been about to enquire where he could pick up his next lot of cleaners, but before he had a chance to open his mouth, the man had disappeared.

      For a moment, he didn’t know what to do. He felt very tempted to take the cleaner straight indoors in order to test it in his bedroom, but he wasn’t at all sure Mrs Bird would approve. In any case, number thirty-two Windsor Gardens was always kept so spotlessly clean, there didn’t seem much point.

      And then, as he reached the end of the road, the matter was suddenly decided for him. Mr Curry’s front door shot open and the Browns’ neighbour emerged once again carrying a dustpan and brush.

      He glared at Paddington. “Are you still spying on me, bear?” he growled. “I’ve told you about it once before this morning.”

      “Oh, no, Mr Curry,” said Paddington hastily. “I’m not spying on anyone. I’ve got a job. I’m selling a special new cleaner.”

      Mr Curry looked at Paddington uncertainly. “Is this true, bear?” he demanded.

      “Oh, yes,” said Paddington. “It gets rid of anything. I can give you a free demonstration if you like.”

      A sly gleam entered Mr Curry’s eyes. “As a matter of fact,” he said, “it does so happen that I’m having a spot of bother this morning. I’m not saying I’ll buy anything, mind, but if you care to clear up the mess I might consider it.”

      Paddington consulted the handwritten list of instructions which was pinned to the box. He could see that Mr Curry was going to come under the heading of CUSTOMERS – VERY DIFFICULT.

      “I think,” he announced, as the Browns’ neighbour helped him up the step with his basket on wheels, “you’re going to need what we call the ‘full treatment’.”

      Mr Curry gave a snort. “It had better be good, bear,” he said. “Otherwise I shall hold you personally responsible.”

      He led the way into his dining-room and pointed to a large pile of black stuff in the grate. “I’ve had a bad fall of soot this morning. Probably to do with the noise that goes on next door,” he said meaningly.

      “My cleaner’s very good with soot, Mr Curry,” said Paddington eagerly. “Mr Wisher mentioned it specially.”

      “Good,” said Mr Curry. “I’ll just go and finish emptying my dustpan and then I’ll be back to keep an eye on things.”

      As the Browns’ neighbour disappeared from view, Paddington hurriedly set to work. Remembering the advice he’d been given a short while before, he decided to make certain he gave Mr Curry a very good demonstration indeed.