Paddington on Top. Michael BondЧитать онлайн книгу.
hardly had time to bring the mathematics lesson to an end when the door burst open and Paddington hurried back into the room clutching a parcel wrapped in newspaper.
He looked rather apprehensive as he made his way towards the platform. Mr Eustace was clutching a knife in one hand and he appeared to be doing something to the contents of an old tin can.
“That was quick, bear,” he said, trying to make the best of things as he looked up. “We’re about to get under way with the next lesson.”
Placing the knife on the table, Mr Eustace took the parcel and started to unwrap it. As he did so, the smile slowly disappeared from his face. Normally fairly red, his features began to resemble an overripe beetroot as he undid the last of the folds.
“And what is this, pray?” he demanded, holding a package up to the light.
“It’s some fish fingers, Mr Eustace,” said Paddington. “They were on special offer in the supermarket. The man said they would be all right so long as you eat them before next Tuesday.”
“Eat them!” Mr Eustace glared at the package. “I don’t want to eat them. I want to cut them up! They’re for my biology lesson.”
Reaching over, he grasped the knife on his desk and with one sweeping movement, pushed the tin can towards Paddington.
“Take this, bear,” he thundered. “I shall call on you when it’s time for practicals.”
Paddington didn’t need asking twice. He had no idea what Mr Eustace had in mind, but from the look on his face and the way he was brandishing the knife, he had no wish to stay and find out. Clutching the tin in his right paw, he backed towards the classroom door. When he reached it, he held his other paw up as high as it would go.
“If you please, Mr Eustace,” he exclaimed, “I think I would like to be excused.” And without waiting for an answer, he disappeared up the corridor as fast as his legs would carry him.
Paddington was the sort of bear who believed in going right to the top in times of trouble, and this definitely seemed to be one of those occasions.
On his way in that morning he’d noticed a door marked ‘headmaster’ and he didn’t stop until he reached it.
The headmaster looked up in surprise as Paddington entered his study and collapsed into a chair in front of his desk. “I think Mr Eustace is going to put his knife into me!” he gasped.”He wants to call on me for his practicals!”
St Luke’s was a large school, and like all large schools it had its fair share of problems. Even so, the headmaster began to look more and more unhappy as he listened to Paddington’s tale of woe. He hadn’t been best pleased when the Inspector had passed on the news of a new arrival halfway through the term, especially one who apparently hadn’t been to school before, and it seemed as though his worst fears were being realised.
He stood up as a bell began to ring somewhere in the distance. “It does seem as though it’s been one long misunderstanding,” he said. “That’s the midday bell. Perhaps we can talk about it over lunch. There’s nothing like a spot of food for calming the nerves.”
Ushering Paddington through the door, he led the way down the corridor. “You may eat at the teachers’ table,” he continued. “Just for today I’ll make you food monitor. That means you’ll be in charge of all the serving.”
Paddington began to look more cheerful as he listened to the headmaster’s words, and when he saw the pile of food laid out ready for them he grew more cheerful still, despite the fact that out of the corner of his eye he could see Mr Eustace glaring at him from the other end of the table.
After he’d finished serving out the soup, Paddington turned his attention to an enormous tureen full of stew.
“I think I shall like school after all,” he announced, licking his lips as he passed the first plateful to the headmaster.
“I’m very pleased to hear it,” said the Head. “After all,” he added, “you’ll be with us until you’re sixteen, and that’s a long time.”
“Sixteen!” The ladle fell unheeded from Paddington’s paw, and his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as he gazed at the headmaster. “Sixteen! But I thought I was only here for the day!”
The headmaster gave a nervous chuckle. “I’m afraid it’s the law now,” he said, hurriedly turning to one of his colleagues. “And there’s no getting away from it.”
Paddington served the rest of the food as if in a dream. In fact he was so taken up with his thoughts that he quite forgot to give himself any, and several of the teachers were already passing their plates up for seconds.
When he came to again, Paddington began peering into the pot with a thoughtful expression on his face.
“Come along, bear,” called Mr Eustace impatiently “Don’t let it get cold. There’s nothing worse than cold stew.”
The headmaster looked round. “Is anything the matter?” he asked. “You look as if you’ve lost something.”
Paddington poked the contents of the pot with a spoon.
“I think I may have dropped Mr Eustace’s tin in the stew by mistake,” he announced.
All eyes turned towards the end of the table as a loud groan followed Paddington’s remark.
The headmaster jumped to his feet in alarm. “Are you all right, Mr Eustace?” he asked. “You seem to have gone quite pale.”
Looking at Mr Eustace, even his best friends would have had to admit that the headmaster’s remarks about his complexion were the understatement of the year. He looked positively green as he sat clutching his stomach. “That tin,” he moaned, “happens to belong to my biology class. It’s the one I keep my worms in!”
Paddington looked up from the stewpot. “Would anyone else like any seconds?” he asked hopefully.
The headmaster removed an invisible speck of dust from his lapel as he gathered his thoughts. It had taken him a long while to explain to the Browns all that had happened to Paddington at St Luke’s. It hadn’t been an easy task, particularly as he still wasn’t sure of all the facts himself.
“The long and short of it is,” he said, “we… er… that is, my colleagues and I, feel that until young Mr Brown has a proper school uniform he’d be much better off staying at home.”
“A school uniform?” broke in Mrs Brown. She looked at Paddington. “But we shall never get one to fit him.”
The headmaster gave a cough as he rose to his feet. “Er… exactly” he said. “I’ve had a word with the Inspector and in the circumstances he’s perfectly happy to take my advice. All in all I think it will be much the best thing.”
He paused at the door and looked back at Paddington with the suspicion of a twinkle in his eye. “I’m sure you’ll be pleased to know,” he said, “that your suspicions were ill-founded. Mr Eustace’s tin hadn’t fallen in the stew after all. We found it under the table. Both the worms and Mr Eustace are doing very well.
“I have a feeling,” he said, addressing Mrs Brown as he made to leave, “that in any case, there’s not much we at St Luke’s can teach bears.”
“I wonder what he meant by that last remark?” said Mrs Brown, when she came into the room after saying goodbye to the headmaster. “Have you any idea, Paddington?”
But Paddington had his eyes closed. One way and another it had been a tiring day at school and he wasn’t at all sorry to put his paws up.
Mrs Brown sighed. She sometimes wished it wasn’t quite so hard to tell what he was thinking.