Paddington Complete Novels. Michael Bond
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carefully examined it from all angles, he decided he might be able to improve matters still further by sawing a piece off one of the legs. But when he had done that the table seemed to lean the opposite way – which meant he had to saw a piece off one of the other legs as well. Then, when he had done that, he discovered the table was leaning the other way again.
Paddington gave a deep sigh. Carpentry was much more difficult than it looked. He was sure the man in the catalogue didn’t have so much trouble.
It was after he had been at work for some time that he stood up and received his second shock of the morning.
When he had first started sawing the legs, Mr Curry’s table had been as tall as he was. Now he found he was looking down at it. In fact, he didn’t remember ever having seen such a short table before and his eyes nearly popped out with astonishment.
He sat down on the pile of sawn-off table legs and consulted his catalogue once again.
“Delight your family and surprise your friends!” he said bitterly, to the world in general. He was quite sure Mr Curry would be surprised when he saw his kitchen table, but as for anyone being delighted by their magazine racks – he hadn’t even started work on those yet.
Mrs Brown looked anxiously at the dining-room clock. “I wonder where on earth Paddington can have got to,” she said. “It’s almost lunch time and it’s most unlike him to be late for a meal.”
“Perhaps he’s doing a job somewhere,” said Jonathan. “I looked in the shed just now and that new tool box of his has disappeared.”
“And that sheet of plywood Daddy gave him,” said Judy.
“Oh dear,” said Mrs Brown. “I do hope he hasn’t built himself in anywhere and can’t get out. You know what he’s like.”
“I don’t know about Paddington building himself in,” exclaimed Mrs Bird, as she entered carrying a trayload of plates. “I think Mr Curry must be having his house pulled down. I’ve never heard so much noise. Banging and sawing coming from the kitchen. It’s been going on ever since we got back and it’s only just this minute stopped.”
Jonathan and Judy exchanged glances. Now that Mrs Bird mentioned it, there had been a lot of noise coming from Mr Curry’s house.
“I wonder…” said Judy.
Jonathan opened his mouth, but before he had time to say anything the door burst open and Paddington entered dragging something large and heavy behind him.
“Well,” said Mrs Bird, voicing all their thoughts. “And what have you been up to now?”
“What have I been up to, Mrs Bird?” exclaimed Paddington, looking most offended. “I’ve been making Mr Brown a magazine rack.”
“A magazine rack?” said Mrs Brown, as Paddington stepped to one side. “What a lovely idea.”
“It was meant to be a surprise,” said Paddington modestly. “I made it all with my own paws.”
“Gosh! It’s super,” said Jonathan, as the Browns all crowded round to admire Paddington’s handiwork. “Fancy you doing it all by yourself.”
“I should be careful,” warned Paddington. “I’ve only just varnished it and it’s still a bit sticky. I think some of it has come off on my paws already.”
“Most sensible,” said Mrs Bird approvingly. “Mentioning no names – it’s about time some people in this house had a place for their newspapers. Now perhaps they won’t keep losing them.”
“But you’ve made two,” said Judy. “Whose is the other one?”
A guilty expression came over Paddington’s face. “It’s really for Mr Curry,” he said. “But I thought perhaps I’d better leave it on his doorstep after dark – just in case.”
Mrs Bird looked at Paddington suspiciously. Her ears had caught the sound of violent banging coming from the house next door and she had a nasty feeling in the back of her mind that it had something to do with Paddington.
“Just in case?” she repeated. “What do you mean?”
But before Paddington had time to explain exactly what he did mean, Mrs Brown pointed to the window in astonishment.
“Good gracious,” she cried. “There is Mr Curry. Whatever’s the matter with him? He’s running around the garden waving a kitchen table in the air.” She peered through the glass. “And it doesn’t seem to have any legs, either. How very odd!”
“Gosh!” cried Jonathan excitedly. “Now it’s broken in two!”
The Browns stared through the window at the strange sight of Mr Curry dancing round his pond waving the two halves of a table. “Bear!” he shouted. “Where are you, bear?”
“Oh dear,” said Paddington, as everyone turned away from the window and looked at him accusingly. “I’m in trouble again.”
“Well, if you ask me,” said Mrs Bird, after he had explained everything to them, “the best thing you can do is offer Mr Curry your carpentry set as a present. Then, perhaps, he’ll forget all about his kitchen table. And if he doesn’t, just you tell him to come and see me.
Mrs Bird held very strong views about people who tried to take advantage of others and she usually took Paddington’s side in anything to do with Mr Curry.
“Anyway,” she concluded, in a voice which left no room for argument, “I’m certainly not having the lunch spoiled by Mr Curry or anyone else, so just you all sit down while I fetch it.”
With that argument the Browns had to agree and they meekly arranged themselves round the table.
Paddington in particular thought it was a very good idea. He was a bit fed up with carpentry. Sawing was hard work – especially for a small bear – and even more so when it was sawing through a kitchen table. Besides, he was hungry after his morning’s work and he didn’t want to offend Mrs Bird by not eating her lunch down to the very last mouthful.
“I’m afraid,” said the lady in the cash desk at the Podium Super Cinema, “you can’t come in. It’s an ‘A’ film.”
“I beg your pardon?” said Paddington, looking puzzled.
“‘A’,” said the lady.
“Eh?” repeated Paddington, looking even more puzzled. “But that’s what I said.”
“Not ‘eh’,” said the lady impatiently. “‘A’. That means bears under sixteen aren’t allowed in unaccompanied.”
“Sixteen!” exclaimed Paddington, hardly able to believe his ears. “Sixteen! But I’m only two. That’s another fourteen years. I might not even want to come then.”
“Well, that’s the law,” said the lady sternly. She looked down with some distaste at the top of Paddington’s hat. It still had one or two pieces of river weed sticking to it and the warmth of the cinema was bringing out the smell. “Now, come along, please,” she said hastily. “You’re holding up the queue.
“And no coming back later on wearing long trousers,” she called as Paddington turned to go. “I know all the tricks.”
Paddington felt most disappointed as he made his way slowly across the foyer. There was a nice warm feeling about the cinema and he particularly liked the way his feet sank into