Paddington Novels 1-3

was a heavy responsibility – especially a bear like Paddington – and Mr Brown took the matter very seriously.
    “The point is,” he said, snapping the book shut, “if he’s staying with us for good…”
    “If?” There was a chorus of alarm fromthe rest of the family, not to mention Mrs Bird.
    “What on earth do you mean, Henry?” exclaimed Mrs Brown. “ If Paddington is staying with us for good. Of course he is.”
    “As he’s staying with us,” said Mr Brown, hastily, “there are one or two things I have in mind. First of all I’ve been thinking of decorating the spare room for him.”
    There was general agreement at this. Ever since he had first arrived on the scene, Paddington had occupied the guest-room. Being a polite bear he had never said anything, even when he’d been turned out to make room for visitors, but it had long been thought he should have a room of his own.
    “The second thing,” continued Mr Brown, “is a photograph. I think it would be nice if we could have a family group taken.”
    “A photograph?” exclaimed Mrs Bird. “What a funny thing you should say that.”
    “Oh?” said Mr Brown. “Why’s that?”
    Mrs Bird busied herself with the teapot. “You’ll see – all in good time,” she said. And try as they might that was all the others could get from her.
    Fortunately, she was saved any further questions, for at that moment there came aloud banging noise from the direction of the dining-room and Paddington himself appeared at the French windows. He was struggling with a large cardboard box, across the top of which lay a mysterious-looking metal object with long spikes on one end.
    But it wasn’t so much what he was carrying that caused a gasp of astonishment from the others. It was his general appearance.
    His fur had an unusually soft, golden look about it, and his ears, or as much of them as they could see poking out from beneath the wide brim of his old hat, were as black and shiny as the tip of his nose. Even his paws and whiskers had to be seen to be believed.
    Everyone sat up in amazement and Mrs Brown dropped several stitches.
    “Good heavens!” spluttered Mr Brown, nearly spilling his tea over the encyclopedia. “What have you been doing to yourself?”
    “I’ve been having a bath,” said Paddington, looking most offended.
    “A bath?” repeated Judy, slowly. “Without being asked?”
    “Crikey!” said Jonathan. “We’d better put the flags out.”
    “You are all right?” asked Mr Brown. “I mean – you’re not feeling ill or anything?”
    Paddington became even more injured at the excitement he had caused. It wasn’t as if he never had a wash. In fact he had one most mornings. It was simply that he had decided views on baths in particular. Having a bath meant getting his fur wet all over and it took a long time to dry. “I only wanted to look nice for the photograph,” he said firmly.
    “The photograph?” everyone echoed. It was really uncanny the way Paddington knew about things.
    “Yes,” said Paddington. An important expression came over his face as he bent down and started undoing the string round his cardboard box. “I’ve bought myself a camera.”
    There was a moment’s silence while the Browns watched the back view of Paddington bending over the box.
    “A camera,” said Mrs Brown at last. “But aren’t they very expensive?”
    “This one wasn’t,” said Paddington, breathing hard. He stood up, clutching the biggest camera the Browns had ever seen. “I bought it at a sale in the market. It was only three pounds!”
    “Three pounds!” exclaimed Mr Brown looking most impressed. He turned to the others. “I must say I’ve never known a bearwith such an eye for a bargain as Paddington.”
    “Gosh!” said Jonathan. “It’s got a hood to put over your head and everything.”
    “What’s that long thing?” asked Judy.
    “That’s a tripod,” explained Paddington proudly. He sat down on the floor and began unfolding the legs. “It’s to stand the camera on so that it doesn’t shake.”
    Mr Brown picked up the camera and examined it. As he turned it over some rusty screws and several old nails fell out. “Isn’t it rather old?” he asked, without thinking. “It looks as if someone’s been using it as a work-box instead of a camera.”
    Paddington lifted the brim of his hat and gave Mr Brown a hard stare. “It’s a very rare sort,” he replied. “The man in the bargain shop said so.”
    “Well, I