Paddington Novels 1-3

for something!”
    “You’ll be sickening for something all right if you don’t clear up this mess,” grumbled Mrs Bird as she entered. “Just look at it. Bottles of ink. Glue. Bits of paper. My best sewing scissors. Marmalade all over the table runner, and goodness knows what else.”
    Paddington looked around. It was in a bit of a state.
    “I’ve almost finished,” he announced. “I’ve just got to rule a few more lines andthings. I’ve been writing my memories.”
    Paddington took his scrapbook very seriously and spent many long hours carefully pasting in pictures and writing up his adventures. Since he’d been at the Browns’, so much had happened it was now more than half full.
    “Well, make sure you do clear everything up,” said Mrs Brown, “or we shan’t bring you back any cake. Now do take care of yourself. And don’t forget – when the baker comes we want two loaves.” With that she waved goodbye and followed Mrs Bird out of the room.
    “You know,” said Mrs Bird, as she stepped into the car, “I have a feeling that bear has something up his paw. He seemed most anxious for us to leave.”
    “Oh, I don’t know,” said Mrs Brown. “I don’t see what he can do. We shan’t be away all that long.”
    “Ah!” replied Mrs Bird darkly. “That’s as may be. But he’s been hanging about on the landing upstairs half the morning. I’m sure he’s up to something.”
    Mr Brown, who didn’t like weddings much either, and was secretly wishing he could stay at home with Paddington, looked over his shoulder as he let in the clutch.“Perhaps I ought to stay as well,” he said. “Then I could get on with decorating his new room.”
    “Now, Henry,” said Mrs Brown firmly. “You’re coming to the wedding and that’s that. Paddington will be quite all right by himself. He’s a very capable bear. And as for you wanting to get on with decorating his new room… you haven’t done a thing towards it for over a fortnight, so I’m sure it can wait another day.”
    Paddington’s new room had become a sore point in the Brown household. It was over two weeks since Mr Brown had first thought of doing it. So far he had stripped all the old wallpaper from the walls, removed the picture rails, the wood round the doors, the door handle, and everything else that was loose, or that he had made loose, and bought a lot of bright new wallpaper, some whitewash, and some paint. There matters had rested.
    In the back of the car Mrs Bird pretended she hadn’t heard a thing. An idea had suddenly come into her mind and she was hoping it hadn’t entered Paddington’s as well; but Mrs Bird knew the workings of Paddington’s mind better than most and she feared the worst. Had she but known, herfears were being realised at that very moment. Paddington was busy scratching out the words ‘ AT A LEWSE END ’ in his scrapbook and was adding, in large capital letters, the ominous ones: ‘DECKERATING MY NEW ROOM!’

    It was while he’d been writing ‘ AT A LEWSE END ’ in his scrapbook earlier in the day that the idea had come to him. Paddington had noticed in the past that he often got his best ideas when he was ‘at a loose end’.
    For a long while all his belongings had been packed away ready for the big move to his new room, and he was beginning to get impatient. Every time he wanted anything special he had to undo yards of string and brown paper.
    Having underlined the words in red, Paddington cleared everything up, locked his scrapbook carefully in his suitcase, and hurriedupstairs. He had several times offered to lend a paw with the decorating, but for some reason or other Mr Brown had put his foot down on the idea and hadn’t even allowed him in the room while work was in progress. Paddington couldn’t quite understand why. He was sure he would be very good at it.
    The room in question was an old box-room which had been out of use for a number of years, and when he entered it, Paddington found it was even more interesting than he had expected.
    He closed the door carefully behind him and sniffed. There was an exciting smell of paint and whitewash in the air. Not only that, but there were some steps, a trestle table, several brushes, a number of rolls of wallpaper, and a big pail of whitewash.
    The room had a lovely echo as well, and he spent a long time sitting in the middle of the floor while he was stirring the paint, just listening to his new voice.
    There were so many different and