Paddington Novels 1-3

Brown had her own thoughts on the subject. “I do hope it’s a nice play,” she said to Mrs Bird. “You know what Paddington’s like… he does take these things so seriously.”
    “Oh, well,” said Mrs Bird. “ I shall sit at home and listen to the wireless in peace and quiet. But it’ll be an experience for him and he does like experiences so. Besides, he’s been very good lately.”
    “I know,” said Mrs Brown. “That’s what worries me!”
    As it turned out, the play itself was the least of Mrs Brown’s worries. Paddington was unusually silent all the way to the theatre. It was the first time he had been out after dark and the very first time he had seen the lights of London. Mr Brown pointed out all the famous landmarks as they drove past in the car, and it was a gay party of Browns that eventually trooped into the theatre.
    Paddington was pleased to find it all exactly as Mr Gruber had described it to him, even down to the commissionaire who opened the door for them and saluted as they entered the foyer.
    Paddington returned the salute with a wave of his paw and then sniffed. Everything was painted red and gold and the theatre had a nice, warm, friendly sort of smell. There was a slight upset at the cloakroom when he found he had to pay in order to leave his duffel coat and suitcase. The woman behind the counter turned quite nasty when Paddington asked for his things back.
    She was still talking about it in a loud voice asthe attendant led them along a passage towards their seats. At the entrance to the box the attendant paused.
    “Programme, sir?” she said to Paddington.
    “Yes, please,” said Paddington, taking five. “Thank you very much.”
    “And would you like coffee in the interval, sir?” she asked.
    Paddington’s eyes glistened. “Oh, yes, please,” he said, imagining it was a kind thought on the part of the theatre. He tried to push his way past, but the attendant barred the way.
    “That’ll be seven pounds fifty pence,” she said. “One pound each for the programmes and fifty pence each for the coffee.”
    Paddington looked as if he could hardly believe his ears. “Seven pounds and fifty pence?” he repeated. “ Seven pounds fifty? ”
    “That’s all right, Paddington,” said Mr Brown, anxious to avoid another fuss. “It’s my treat. You go in and sit down.”
    Paddington obeyed like a shot, but he gave the attendant some very queer looks while shearranged some cushions for his seat in the front row. All the same, he was pleased to see she had given him the one nearest the stage. He’d already sent a postcard to his Aunt Lucy with a carefully drawn copy of a plan of the theatre, which he’d found in one of Mr Gruber’s books, and a small cross in one corner marked ‘ MY SEET ’.
    The theatre was quite full and Paddington waved to the people down below. Much to Mrs Brown’s embarrassment, several of them pointed and waved back.
    “I do wish he wouldn’t be quite so friendly,” she whispered to Mr Brown.
    “Wouldn’t you like to take off your duffel coat now?” asked Mr Brown. “It’ll be cold when you go out again.”
    Paddington climbed up and stood on his chair. “I think perhaps I will,” he said. “It’s getting warm.”
    Judy started to help him off with it. “Mind my marmalade sandwich!” cried Paddington, as she placed it on the ledge in front of him. But it was too late. He looked round guiltily.

    “Crikey!” said Jonathan. “It’s fallen on someone’s head!” He looked over the edge of the box. “It’s that man with the bald head. He looks jolly cross.”
    “Oh, Paddington!” Mrs Brown looked despairingly at him. “Do you have to bring marmalade sandwiches to the theatre?”
    “It’s all right,” said Paddington, cheerfully. “I’ve some more in the other pocket if anyone wants one. They’re a bit squashed, I’m afraid, because I sat on them in the car.”
    “There seems to be some sort of a row going on down below,” said Mr Brown, craning his head to look over the edge. “Some chap just waved his fist at me. And what’s all this about marmaladesandwiches?” Mr Brown was a bit slow on the uptake sometimes.
    “Nothing, dear,” said Mrs Brown, hastily. She decided to let the matter drop. It was much easier in the long run.
    In any case, Paddington was having a great struggle with himself over some opera glasses. He had just seen a little box in front of him marked OPERA GLASSES. TWENTY PENCE . Eventually, after