Michael Bond

Paddington Takes the Air


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       Copyright

      First published in Great Britain by William Collins Sons and Co. Ltd in 1970

      New edition published by Collins in 1999

      This edition first published by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2008 This edition published in 2018

      Collins and HarperCollins Children’s Books are divisions of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd, 1 London Bridge Street, London SE1 9GF

      Visit our website at www.harpercollinschildrensbooks.co.uk

      Text copyright © Michael Bond 1970

      Illustrations copyright © Peggy Fortnum and William Collins Sons and Co. Ltd 1970

      The author and illustrator assert the moral right to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work.

      Cover illustration adapted and coloured by Mark Burgess from the original by Peggy Fortnum

      All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins ebooks.

      Source ISBN: 9780006753797

      eBook Edition © JANUARY 2012 ISBN: 9780007403035

      Version: 2019-05-24

      Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

       2. A Stitch in Time

       3. Riding High

       4. Paddington Strikes a Bargain

       5. The Case of the Doubtful Dummy

       6. Paddington Recommended

       7. The Last Dance

       Keep Reading …

       About the Author

       Other Books by Michael Bond

       About the Publisher

       Chapter One A VISIT TO THE DENTIST

      PADDINGTON STARED AT Mrs Brown as if he could hardly believe his ears. “You’ve dropped my tooth down the waste disposal!” he exclaimed. “I shan’t even be able to put it under my pillow now!”

      Mrs Brown peered helplessly into the gaping hole at the bottom of her kitchen sink. “I’m awfully sorry, dear,” she replied. “It must have been in the leavings when I cleared up after breakfast. I think you’ll have to leave a note explaining what happened.”

      It was a tradition in the Browns’ household that anyone who lost a tooth and left it under their pillow that night would find it replaced by fifty pence the next morning, and Paddington looked most upset at being deprived of this experience.

      “Perhaps we could try looking under the cover outside,” suggested Judy hopefully. “It might still be in the drain.”

      “I shouldn’t think so,” said Jonathan. “Those waste disposals are jolly good. They grind up anything. It even managed that everlasting toffee Paddington gave me yesterday.

      “It was a super one,” he added hastily, as he caught Paddington’s eye. “I wish I could make one half as nice. It was a bit big, though. I couldn’t quite finish it.”

      “Well,” said Mr Brown, returning to the vexed question of Paddington’s tooth, “at least it didn’t jam the machine. We’ve only had it a fortnight.”

      But if Mr Brown was trying to strike a cheerful note, he failed miserably, for Paddington gave him a very hard stare indeed.

      “I’ve had my tooth ever since I was born,” he said. “And it was my best one. I don’t know what Aunt Lucy’s going to say when I write and tell her.”

      And with that parting shot, he hurried out of the kitchen and disappeared upstairs in the direction of his room leaving behind a very unhappy group of Browns indeed.

      “I don’t see how anyone can have a best tooth,” said Mr Brown, as he made ready to leave for the office.

      “Well,” said Mrs Bird, their housekeeper, “best or not, I must say I don’t blame that bear. I don’t think I’d be too happy at the thought of one of my teeth going down a waste disposal – even if it was an accident.”

      “It would have to be Paddington’s,” said Judy. “You know how he hates losing anything. Especially when it’s something he’s cleaned twice a day.”

      “We shall never hear the last of it,” agreed Mrs Brown. She looked round the kitchen at the remains of the breakfast things. “I do hate Mondays. I don’t know why, but there always seems to be more dried egg on the plates than any other day.”

      The others fell silent. It was one of those mornings at number thirty-two Windsor Gardens. Things had started badly when Paddington announced that he’d found a bone in his boiled egg, but remembering a similar occurrence some years before with a Christmas pudding, the Browns had pooh-poohed the idea at first and it wasn’t until a little later on, when he’d gone upstairs to do his Monday morning accounts that the trouble had really begun.

      A sudden cry of alarm had brought the rest of the family racing to the scene only to find Paddington on his bed with a pencil stuck between a large gap where one of his back teeth should have been.

      Immediately the whole house had been in an uproar. The bed was stripped, carpets were turned back, the vacuum cleaner emptied, pockets turned out; Paddington even tried standing on his head in case he’d swallowed the lost half by mistake, but all to no avail… it was nowhere to