all enjoy a little joke. Let’s start again. Now – what am I bid for this valuable item?”
“Nine pence,” said a voice at the back of the hall amid laughter.
“Ten pence,” said Paddington firmly.
The laughter died down and there was silence. “If you ask me,” whispered a voice behind Paddington, “that young bear knows something.”
“It’s probably a fake,” whispered another voice. “After all – it’s not the first thing he’s bought this afternoon.”
“He’s with old Mr Gruber, too,” whispered the first voice. “And he said he was interested in antiques when he came in. I wouldn’t touch it if I were you.”
The auctioneer shuddered as he gazed at the preserves stand in his hand. “Any advance on ten pence?” he cried.
There was another long silence. “Going…” he shouted, raising his hammer and looking around hopefully. “Going…” Still no one spoke. “Gone!”
He brought his hammer down on the desk with a crash. “Sold to the young bear gentleman in the front row for tenpence.”
“Thank you very much,” said Paddington, as he hurried up to the table. “I hope you don’t mind if I pay you in pennies but I’ve been saving up in case of an emergency.”
“Pennies?” said the man. He mopped his brow with a spotted handkerchief. “I don’t know,” he said, turning to his assistant. “I must be getting old. Letting young bears get the better of me at my time of life.”
“A very good bargain indeed,” said Mr Gruber admiringly, when they were outside the saleroom. He turned Paddington’s preserves stand over in his hands. “I should say it’s worth every penny of fifty pounds.”
“Fifty pounds?” exclaimed Paddington, staring at Mr Gruber. “Fifty pounds for a marmalade stand?”
“At least that,” said Mr Gruber. “I’ll put it in my window for you if you like, Mr Brown.”
Paddington thought hard for a moment. “I think I would like you to have it as a present, Mr Gruber,” he said at last. “I don’t expect you’d have bought the carpentry tools if I hadn’t been at the auction sale.”
Mr Gruber looked most affected by Paddington’s offer. “That’s very kind of you, Mr Brown,” he said. “Very kind of you indeed. But I know how fond you are of marmalade and I’d much rather you had it. Besides,” he added, “I’ve had a very good day and I think it was worth the price of the carpentry tools just to see the expression on the auctioneer’s face when you offered him ten pence for the preserves stand.”
Mr Gruber chuckled at the thought. “I don’t think he’s had many dealings with young bears before,” he said.
“I’ve said it before,” remarked Mrs Bird, later that evening, “and I’ll say it again. That bear’s got an eye for a bargain.”
The Browns were having a late supper before going to bed. Paddington’s ‘antique’ stood in the centre of the table in a place of honour. He had spent most of the evening polishing it until he could see his whiskers in the side and Mrs Bird had opened a new jar of his favourite marmalade especially for the occasion.
There was a blissful expression on Paddington’s face – that part of it which could be seen behind bread and butter crumbs and smears of marmalade.
“I think,” he announced, amid general agreement, “preserves taste even nicer when they come out of an antique.
“Especially,” he added, as he dipped his paw into the marmalade, “a ten-penny one!”
Paddington sat up in bed late that night writing his memories. He had a large leather-bound scrapbook given to him by Mr Gruber in which he kept a record of all his adventures, together with any interesting pictures, and he carefully pasted in the receipt for his ten pence which the auctioneer had given him.
“When he did eventually fall asleep it was only to dream he was at the auction sale again. He was standing in the middle of the auction rooms waving his paws and bidding for everything that was offered for sale. The pile of things he’d bought got bigger and bigger as they were placed around him until he could hardly see out. Several of the larger items were sticking in his side.
When he woke he was very relieved to find he was still in his own room and that the banging of the auctioneer’s hammer was really only someone knocking at his door.
As he sat up in bed rubbing his eyes Paddington also found to his surprise that the marmalade dish was in bed with him and he had, in fact, been lying on it.
“Paddington!” exclaimed Mrs Brown, as she entered carrying the breakfast things. “What on earth’s the matter? I kept hearing a lot of banging and shouting coming from your room in the night.”
“I expect it was the noise of the furniture, Mrs Brown,” explained Paddington, hastily drawing the sheets up round his ears so that she wouldn’t see the marmalade stains.
“The furniture?” exclaimed Mrs Brown, as she put the tray down on the bed. “What furniture?”
“The furniture I bought in my dream,” said Paddington patiently.
Mrs Brown sighed. Sometimes she couldn’t make head or tail of what Paddington was talking about. “I’ve brought you your breakfast in bed,” she said, “because Mrs Bird and I have to go out this morning. We’re taking Jonathan and Judy to the dentist and we thought perhaps you wouldn’t mind being left on your own. Unless,” she added, “you’d like to come too?”
“Oh, no,” said Paddington hastily. “I don’t think I should like to go the dentist, thank you very much. I’d much rather stay at home.”
“There’s a big box arrived from Mr Gruber,” continued Mrs Brown. “I think it’s the carpentry tools you bought in the sale yesterday. I’ve had them put in the shed.”
“Thank you, Mrs Brown,” said Paddington, hoping she would soon go as it was getting very hot under the blankets and the marmalade dish was sticking in his side again.
Mrs Brown paused in the doorway. “We shan’t be any longer than we can help. You’re sure you’ll be all right?”
“I expect I shall find something to do,” said Paddington vaguely.
Mrs Brown hesitated before shutting the door. She would have liked to ask Paddington a few more questions. He had a far-away look in his eyes which she didn’t like the look of at all. But she was already late for the appointment, and conversation with Paddington, particularly in the early morning, was liable to become complicated.
When Mrs Bird heard all about Paddington’s strange behaviour she hurried upstairs to see what was going on, but she arrived back a few moments later with the news that he was sitting up in bed eating his breakfast and reading a catalogue.
“Oh, well,” said Mrs Brown, looking most relieved. “He can’t come to much harm doing that.”
In recent weeks Paddington had begun to collect catalogues and whenever he saw an interesting one advertised in the newspapers he usually sent away for it. In fact, hardly a day went by without the postman calling at least once with a letter addressed to “P. Brown, Esq.”
Some of the catalogues were very good value indeed, full of pictures and drawings, and with quite a lot to read considering they were free and that Mrs Bird usually paid for the stamp.
Paddington kept them all in a cupboard beside his bed. There were a number on foreign travel – with pictures of far-away places in several colours; two or three on food; and one or two from