Paddington Novels 1-3

night.
    But she wasn’t the only one who couldn’t think of sleep. Several times the door toPaddington’s room gently opened and either Mr and Mrs Brown or Jonathan and Judy crept in to see how he was getting on. Somehow it didn’t seem possible that anything could happen to Paddington. But every time they looked at Mrs Bird she just shook her head and went on with her sewing so that they couldn’t see her face.

    The next day the news of Paddington’s illness quickly spread around the neighbourhood and by lunch time there was a steady stream of callers asking after him.
    Mr Gruber was the first one on the scene. “I wondered what had happened to young Mr Brown when he didn’t turn up for elevenses this morning,” he said, looking very upset. “I kept his cocoa hot for over an hour.”
    Mr Gruber went away again, but returned shortly afterwards carrying a bunch of grapes and a large basket of fruit and flowers from the rest of the traders in the Portobello market. “I’m afraid there isn’t much about at this time of the year,” he said apologetically, “but we’ve done the best we can.”
    He paused at the door. “I’m sure he’ll be all right, Mrs Brown,” he said. “With so many people wanting him to get well, I’m sure he will.”

    Mr Gruber raised his hat to Mrs Brown and then began walking slowly in the direction of the park. Somehow he didn’t want to go back to his shop that day.
    Even Mr Curry knocked on the door that afternoon and brought with him an apple and a jar of calves’ foot jelly, which he said was very good for invalids.
    Mrs Bird took all the presents up to Paddington’s room and placed them carefully beside his bed in case he should wake up and want something to eat.
    Doctor MacAndrew called a number of times during the next two days but, despite everything he did, there seemed to be nochange at all. “We’ll just have to bide our time,” was all he would say.
    It was three days later, at breakfast time, that the door to the Browns’ dining-room burst open and Mrs Bird rushed in.
    “Oh, do come quickly,” she cried. “It’s Paddington!”
    Everyone jumped up from the table and stared at Mrs Bird.
    “He’s… he’s not worse, is he?” asked Mrs Brown, voicing the thoughts of them all.
    “Mercy me, no,” said Mrs Bird, fanning herself with the morning paper. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. He’s much better. He’s sitting up in bed asking for a marmalade sandwich!”
    “A marmalade sandwich?” exclaimed Mrs Brown. “Oh, thank goodness!” She wasn’t quite sure whether she wanted to laugh or cry. “I never knew hearing the word marmalade could make me feel so happy.”
    Just as she spoke there was a loud ring from the bell which Mr Brown had installed by the side of Paddington’s bed in case of emergency.
    “Oh dear,” exclaimed Mrs Bird. “I hope I haven’t spoken too soon!” She rushed out of the room and everyone followed her upthe stairs to Paddington’s room. When they entered, Paddington was lying on his back with his paws in the air, staring up at the ceiling.
    “Paddington!” called Mrs Brown, hardly daring to breathe. “Paddington, are you all right?”
    Everyone listened anxiously for the reply. “I think I’ve had a bit of a relapse,” said Paddington, in a weak voice. “I think I’d better have two marmalade sandwiches – just to make sure.”
    There was a sigh of relief from the Browns and Mrs Bird as they exchanged glances. Even if he wasn’t quite himself yet,Paddington was definitely on the road to recovery.

“I suppose I shouldn’t say it,” remarked Mrs Bird, “but I shall be glad when Christmas is over.”
    The few weeks before Christmas were usually busy ones for Mrs Bird. There were so many mince-pies, puddings, and cakes to be made that much of her time was spent in the kitchen. This year matters hadn’t been helped by the fact that Paddington was at home for most of the day ‘convalescing’ after his illness. Paddington was very interested in mince-pies, and if he had opened the oven door once to see how they were getting on, he’d done it a dozen times.
    Paddington’s convalescence had been a difficult time for the Browns. While he had remained in bed it had been bad enough, because he kept getting grape-pips all over the sheets. But if anything, matters had got worse once he was up and about. He wasn’t very good at ‘doing nothing’ and it had become afull-time occupation keeping him