Paddington Abroad. Michael BondЧитать онлайн книгу.

       Chapter One PADDINGTON PREPARES

      Paddington was in a mess. As he was the sort of bear who often got himself into trouble he wasn’t really surprised – but as he stood up and looked round his bedroom even he had to admit that it was worse than usual.

      There were maps and pieces of paper everywhere, not to mention several nasty-looking marmalade stains and a long trail of paw prints. The paw prints started on a map which was spread across the eiderdown on his bed. It was a large map of London and in the middle, by the first paw mark, there was a circle which marked the position of the Browns’ house at number thirty-two Windsor Gardens.

      The trail led from the Browns’ house across the map in a southerly direction, over the end of the bed and on to another map which lay on the floor at the foot. From there it carried on, still going south, until it reached the English Channel, and yet a third map by the window which showed the north coast of France. There the trail ended in a soggy mess made up of old cake crumbs, a small pile of marmalade and a blob of red ink.

      Paddington gave a deep sigh as he dipped his paw absentmindedly into the concoction. He tried kneeling on the floor and peering at his room through half-closed eyes, but if anything, the mess looked even worse because from so low down all he could see were the bumps and ridges.

      Just as he was about to lie back and consider the matter he was suddenly brought back to life by the sound of clinking plates and footsteps on the stairs.

      Jumping up with a guilty expression on his face, Paddington hurriedly began sweeping everything under the bed. Although he had some very good explanations for the mess he was in he felt sure neither Mrs Brown nor Mrs Bird would be very keen on hearing them – especially at breakfast time when everyone was usually in a great hurry.

      “Are you awake, Paddington?” called Mrs Brown as she knocked on the door.

      “No – not yet, Mrs Brown,” cried Paddington in a muffled voice, as he tried to push his marmalade jar under the wardrobe. “I think my lids are stuck.”

      Being a truthful bear at heart, Paddington closed his eyelids and snored several times while he gathered up the rest of his belongings. Feeling around for the pen and ink, he hastily put them into his old hat which he pulled down over his head, and then, gathering up the last of the maps, he groped his way across the room.

      “Whatever’s going on, Paddington?” exclaimed Mrs Brown, as the door suddenly opened and Paddington appeared.

      Paddington nearly fell over backwards with surprise when he saw Mrs Brown standing there with his breakfast tray.

      “I thought you were a cupboard, Mrs Brown,” he exclaimed, as he hurriedly put a pawful of maps behind him and backed towards the bed. “I must have gone the wrong way by mistake.”

      “I should think you did,” said Mrs Brown as she followed him into the room. “I’ve never heard so much banging and crashing.”

      Mrs Brown looked suspiciously round the room but everything appeared to be in its place so she turned her attention back to Paddington who was now sitting up in bed with a very odd expression on his face.

      “Are you sure you’re all right?” she asked anxiously, as she placed the tray in front of him. For one nasty moment Mrs Brown thought she saw a trickle of red running down Paddington’s left ear, but before she could look into the matter he had pulled his old hat even further down over his head. All the same she didn’t like the look of it at all, and she hesitated at the door in case something was wrong.

      Paddington, in his turn, rather wished Mrs Brown would hurry up and go. In his