Paddington Novels 1-3

moment and some measure of order was established before they all sat down to dinner.
    Paddington’s eyes glistened as he surveyed the table. He didn’t agree with Mr Brown when he said it all looked too good to eat. All the same, even Paddington got noticeably slower towards the end when Mrs Bird brought in the Christmas pudding.
    “Well,” said Mr Gruber, a few minutes later, as he sat back and surveyed his empty plate, “I must say that’s the best Christmas dinner I’ve had for many a day. Thank you very much indeed!”
    “Hear! Hear!” agreed Mr Brown. “What do you say, Paddington?”
    “It was very nice,” said Paddington, licking some cream from his whiskers. “Except I had a bone in my Christmas pudding.”
    “You what?” exclaimed Mrs Brown. “Don’t be silly – there are no bones in Christmas pudding.”
    “I had one,” said Paddington, firmly. “It was all hard – and it stuck in my throat.”
    “Good gracious!” exclaimed Mrs Bird. “The five pence! I always put a piece of silver in the Christmas pudding.”
    “What!” said Paddington, nearly falling off his chair. “A five pence? I’ve never heard of a five pence pudding before.”
    “Quick,” shouted Mr Brown, rising to the emergency. “Turn him upside down.”
    Before Paddington could reply, he found himself hanging head downwards while Mr Brown and Mr Gruber took it in turns to shake him. The rest of the family stood round watching the floor.
    “It’s no good,” said Mr Brown, after a while. “It must have gone too far.” He helped Mr Gruber lift Paddington into an armchair, where he lay gasping for breath.
    “I’ve got a magnet upstairs,” said Jonathan. “We could try lowering it down his throat on a piece of string.”
    “I don’t think so, dear,” said Mrs Brown, in a worried tone of voice. “He might swallow that and then we should be even worse off.” She bent over the chair. “How do you feel, Paddington?”
    “Sick,” said Paddington, in an aggrieved tone of voice.
    “Of course you do, dear,” said Mrs Brown. “It’s only to be expected. There’s only one thing to do – we shall have to send for the doctor.”
    “Thank goodness I scrubbed it first,” said Mrs Bird. “It might have been covered with germs.”
    “But I didn’t swallow it,” gasped Paddington. “I only nearly did. Then I put it on the side of my plate. I didn’t know it was five pence because it was all covered with Christmas pudding.”
    Paddington felt very fed up. He’d just eaten one of the best dinners he could ever remember and now he’d been turned upside down and shaken without even being given time to explain.
    Everyone exchanged glances and then crept quietly away, leaving Paddington to recover by himself. There didn’t seem to be much they could say.
    But after the dinner things had been cleared away, and by the time Mrs Bird had made some strong coffee, Paddington was almost himself again. He was sitting up in the chair helping himself to some dates when they trooped back into the room. It took a lot to make Paddington ill for very long.
    When they had finished their coffee, and were sitting round the blazing fire feeling warm and comfortable, Mr Brown rubbed his hands. “Now, Paddington,” he said, “it’s not only Christmas, it’s your birthday as well. What would you like to do?”
    A mysterious expression came over Paddington’s face. “If you all go in the other room,” he announced, “I’ve a special surprise for you.”
    “Oh dear, must we, Paddington?” said Mrs Brown. “There isn’t a fire.”
    “I shan’t be long,” said Paddington, firmly. “But it’s a special surprise and it has to be prepared.” He held the door open and the Browns, Mrs Bird, and Mr Gruber filed obediently into the other room.
    “Now close your eyes,” said Paddington, when they were all settled, “and I’ll let you know when I’m ready.”
    Mrs Brown shivered. “I hope you won’tbe too long,” she called. But the only reply was the sound of the door clicking shut.
    They waited for several minutes without speaking, and then Mr Gruber cleared his throat. “Do you think young Mr Brown’s forgotten about us?” he asked.
    “I don’t know,” said Mrs Brown. “But I’m not waiting much longer.”
    “Henry!” she exclaimed, as she opened her eyes.
    “Have you gone to sleep?”
    “Er, wassat?” snorted Mr Brown. He had eaten such a large dinner he was finding it difficult to keep awake.