“The tradesmen’s entrance is at the side,” said Mr Brown, from behind the paper.
Mrs Brown put down her knitting and stared at him. “I think you must have come to the wrong house,” she said. “This is number thirty-two not thirty-four!”
Even Jonathan and Judy agreed there must be some mistake. Paddington began to get quite worried until they all burst out laughing and said how nice he looked now that he was brushed and combed and respectable.
They made room for him in a small armchair by the fire and Mrs Bird came in with another pot of tea and a plate of hot, buttered toast.
“Now, Paddington,” said Mr Brown, when they were all settled. “Suppose you tell us all about yourself and how you came to Britain.”
Paddington settled back in his armchair, wiped a smear of butter carefully from his whiskers, put his paws behind his head and stretched out his toes towards the fire. He liked an audience, especially when he was warm and the world seemed such a nice place.
“I was brought up in Darkest Peru,” he began. “By my Aunt Lucy. She’s the one that lives in a home for retired bears in Lima.” He closed his eyes thoughtfully.
A hush fell over the room and everyone waited expectantly. After a while, when nothing happened, they began to get restless. Mr Brown coughed loudly. “It doesn’t seem a very exciting story,” he said, impatiently.
He reached across and poked Paddington with his pipe. “Well I never,” he said. “I do believe he’s fallen asleep!”
Chapter Three
Paddington Goes Underground
PADDINGTON WAS VERY surprised when he woke up the next morning and found himself in bed. He decided it was a nice feeling as he stretched himself and pulled the sheets up round his head with a paw. He reached out with his feet and found a cool spot for his toes. One advantage of being a very small bear in a large bed was that there was so much room.
After a few minutes he poked his head out cautiously and sniffed. There was a lovely smell of something coming under the door. It seemed to be getting nearer and nearer. There were footsteps too, coming up the stairs. As they stopped by his door there was a knock and Mrs Bird’s voice called out, “Are you awake, young Paddington?”
“Only just,” called out Paddington, rubbing his eyes.
The door opened. “You’ve had a good sleep,” said Mrs Bird as she placed a tray on the bed and drew the curtains. “And you’re a very privileged person to have breakfast in bed on a weekday!”
Paddington eyed the tray hungrily. There was half a grapefruit in a bowl, a plate of bacon and eggs, some toast, and a whole pot of marmalade, not to mention a large cup of tea. “Is all that for me?” he exclaimed.
“If you don’t want it I can soon take it away again,” said Mrs Bird.
“Oh, I do,” said Paddington, hurriedly. “It’s just that I’ve never seen so much breakfast before.”
“Well, you’d better hurry up with it.” Mrs Bird turned in the doorway and looked back. “Because you’re going on a shopping expedition this morning with Mrs Brown and Judy. And all I can say is, thank goodness I’m not going too!” She closed the door.
“Now I wonder what she means by that?” said Paddington. But he didn’t worry about it for very long. There was far too much to do. It was the first time he had ever had breakfast in bed and he soon found it wasn’t quite so easy as it looked. First of all he had trouble with the grapefruit. Every time he pressed it with his spoon a long stream of juice shot up and hit him in the eye, which was very painful. And all the time he was worried because the bacon and eggs were getting cold. Then there was the question of the marmalade. He wanted to leave room for the marmalade.
In the end he decided it would be much nicer if he mixed everything up on the one plate and sat on the tray to eat it.
“Oh, Paddington,” said Judy when she entered the room a few minutes later and found him perched on the tray, “whatever are you doing now? Do hurry up. We’re waiting for you downstairs.”
Paddington looked up, an expression of bliss on his face; that part of his face which could be seen behind egg whiskers and toast crumbs. He tried to say something but all he could manage was a muffled grunting noise which sounded like IMJUSTCOMING all rolled into one.
“Really!” Judy took out her handkerchief and wiped his face. “You’re the stickiest bear imaginable. And if you don’t hurry up all the nice things will be gone. Mummy’s going to buy you a complete new outfit from Barkridges – I heard her say so. Now, comb your fur quickly and come on down.”