cried. “It’s Paddington!”
Everyone jumped up from the table and stared at Mrs Bird.
“He’s… he’s not worse, is he?” asked Mrs Brown, voicing the thoughts of them all.
“Mercy me, no,” said Mrs Bird, fanning herself with the morning paper. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. He’s much better. He’s sitting up in bed asking for a marmalade sandwich!”
“A marmalade sandwich?” exclaimed Mrs Brown. “Oh, thank goodness!” She wasn’t quite sure whether she wanted to laugh or cry. “I never knew hearing the word marmalade could make me feel so happy.”
Just as she spoke there was a loud ring from the bell which Mr Brown had installed by the side of Paddington’s bed in case of emergency.
“Oh dear,” exclaimed Mrs Bird. “I hope I haven’t spoken too soon!” She rushed out of the room and everyone followed her up the stairs to Paddington’s room. When they entered, Paddington was lying on his back with his paws in the air, staring up at the ceiling.
“Paddington!” called Mrs Brown, hardly daring to breathe. “Paddington, are you all right?”
Everyone listened anxiously for the reply. “I think I’ve had a bit of a relapse,” said Paddington, in a weak voice. “I think I’d better have two marmalade sandwiches – just to make sure.”
There was a sigh of relief from the Browns and Mrs Bird as they exchanged glances. Even if he wasn’t quite himself yet, Paddington was definitely on the road to recovery.
The few weeks before Christmas were usually busy ones for Mrs Bird. There were so many mince-pies, puddings, and cakes to be made that much of her time was spent in the kitchen. This year matters hadn’t been helped by the fact that Paddington was at home for most of the day ‘convalescing’ after his illness. Paddington was very interested in mince-pies, and if he had opened the oven door once to see how they were getting on, he’d done it a dozen times.
Paddington’s convalescence had been a difficult time for the Browns. While he had remained in bed it had been bad enough, because he kept getting grape-pips all over the sheets. But if anything, matters had got worse once he was up and about. He wasn’t very good at ‘doing nothing’ and it had become a full-time occupation keeping him amused and out of trouble. He had even had several goes at knitting something – no one ever quite knew what – but he’d got in such a tangle with the wool, and it had become so sticky with the marmalade, that in the end they had to throw it away. Even the dustman had said very nasty things about it when he came to collect the rubbish.
“He seems very quiet at the moment,” said Mrs Brown. “I think he’s busy with his Christmas list.”
“You’re not really taking him shopping with you this afternoon, are you?” asked Mrs Bird. “You know what happened last time.”*
Mrs Brown sighed. She had vivid memories of the last time she had taken Paddington shopping. “I can’t not take him,” she said. “I did promise and he’s been looking forward to it so much.”
Paddington liked shopping. He always enjoyed looking in the shop windows and since he had read in the paper about all the Christmas decorations, he had thought of very little else. Besides, he had a special reason for wanting to go shopping this time. Although he hadn’t told anyone, Paddington had been saving hard for some while in order to buy the Browns and his other friends some presents.
He had already bought a frame for his picture and sent it, together with a large jar of honey, to his Aunt Lucy in Peru, because presents for overseas had to be posted early.
He had several lists marked ‘SEACRET’ which were locked away in his case, and he had been keeping his ears open for some time listening to conversation in the hope of finding something they all needed.
“Anyway,” said Mrs Brown, “it’s so nice having him around again, and he’s been so good lately, I think he ought to have a treat.
“Besides,” she added, “I’m not taking him to Barkridges this time – I’m taking him to Crumbold & Ferns.”
Mrs Bird put down her baking tray. “Are you sure you’re doing the right thing taking him there?” she exclaimed. “You know what they’re like.”
Crumbold & Ferns was a very old-established shop where everyone spoke in whispers and all the assistants wore frock-coats. Only the best people went to Crumbold & Ferns.
“It’s Christmas,” said Mrs Brown recklessly. “It’ll be a nice treat for him.”
And when Paddington set off with Mrs Brown after lunch, even Mrs Bird had to admit he looked smart enough to go anywhere. His duffle coat, which had just come back from the cleaners, was spotlessly clean, and even his old hat – which Paddington always insisted on wearing when he went on shopping expeditions – looked unusually neat.
All the same, as Paddington waved his paw at the corner, and Mrs Bird turned to go back indoors, she couldn’t help feeling glad she was staying at home.
Paddington enjoyed the journey to Crumbold & Ferns. They went by bus and he managed to get a front seat downstairs. By standing on the seat he could just see through the little hole in the screen behind the driver’s back. Paddington tapped on the glass several times and waved his paw at the man behind the wheel, but he was much too busy with the traffic to look round – in fact they drove a long way without stopping at all.
The conductor was cross when he saw what Paddington was doing. “Oi!” he shouted. “Stop that there tapping! It’s bears like you what get buses a bad name. We’ve gone past three queues already.”
But he was a kindly man and when Paddington said he was sorry, he explained to him all about the signals for making buses stop or go on, and he gave him the end of a roll of tickets as a present. When he had collected all the fares, he came back again and pointed out some buildings of interest to Paddington as they passed them. He even presented him with a large bullseye which he found in his money bag. Paddington liked seeing new places and he was sorry when the journey came to an end and he had to say goodbye to the conductor.
There was another slight upset when they reached Crumbold & Ferns. Paddington had an accident with the revolving door. It wasn’t really his fault, but he tried to follow Mrs Brown into the store just as a very distinguished-looking gentleman with a beard came out the other side. The man was in a great hurry and when he pushed the revolving door it started going round at great speed, taking Paddington with it. He went round several times until he found to his astonishment that he was outside on the pavement once more.
He had a brief glimpse of the man with the beard waving to him from the back of a large car as it drove away. The man also appeared to be shouting something, but Paddington never knew what it was, for at that moment he trod on something sharp and fell over backwards again.
He sat in the middle of the pavement examining his foot and found to his surprise that it had a tie-pin sticking in it. Paddington knew it was a tie-pin because Mr Brown had one very like it – except that his was quite ordinary, whereas this one had something big and shiny fixed to the middle of it. Paddington pinned it to the front of his duffle coat for safety and then suddenly became aware that someone was speaking to him.
“Are you all right, sir?” It was the doorkeeper – a very dignified man in a smart uniform with lots of medals.
“I think so, thank you,” said Paddington, as he stood up and dusted himself, “but I’ve lost my bullseye somewhere.”
“Your