Paddington At Large. Michael BondЧитать онлайн книгу.
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First published in Great Britain
by William Collins Sons and Co. Ltd. in 1962
This edition first published by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 1998 This edition published in 2018
HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd, 1 London Bridge Street, London SE1 9GF
Visit our HarperCollins Children’s Books website at: www.harpercollinschildrensbooks.co.uk
Text copyright © Michael Bond 1962
Illustrations copyright © Peggy Fortnum
and William Collins Sons and Co. Ltd. 1962
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The author and illustrator assert the moral right to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work.
Cover illustration adapted and coloured by Mark Burgess from the original by Peggy Fortnum
Source ISBN: 9780006753636
EPub Edition © JANUARY 2012 ISBN: 9780007461486
Version: 2019-03-15
Contents
1. Paddington Breaks the Peace
3. Goings on at Number Thirty-Two
4. Paddington Hits the Jackpot
6. Trouble in the Bargain Basement
7. Paddington and the Christmas Pantomime
About the Author
Chapter One PADDINGTON BREAKS THE PEACE
“I know I keep on saying it,” exclaimed Mrs Brown, as she placed an extremely large vegetable marrow on the kitchen scales, “but I’m sure Paddington must have been born with green paws. Have you seen this one? He’s beaten his best by over half a pound.”
“Hmm,” said Mrs Bird. “Well, I’ll grant you one thing, green paws are better than idle ones and at least gardening keeps him busy. We haven’t had an upset for weeks now.”
The Browns’ housekeeper hastily touched wood as her eyes followed the progress of a small brown figure clad in a shapeless hat and an equally disreputable-looking duffle coat as it made its way down the garden path before disappearing into a potting shed behind the raspberry canes.
Mrs Bird was never very happy about any of Paddington’s activities which took him out of her sight for too long a time, and Paddington’s interest in gardening had lasted much too long for her peace of mind.
All the same, even Mrs Bird had to admit that for some time past things had been remarkably peaceful at number thirty-two Windsor Gardens.
It had all started when Paddington arrived home from the market one day carrying a giant packet of assorted seeds which he’d bought for the bargain price of five pence. At the time it had seemed such good value for money that Mr Brown had been only too pleased to let him have a corner of the garden, and for several evenings afterwards Paddington had been kept very busy counting the seeds, making sure none of them were stuck to his paws as he sorted them into separate piles in order of size before he planted them.
Only Mrs Bird had been full of forebodings. “Woe betide the man in the shop if they don’t all come up,” she remarked when she noticed the seed packet had been marked down from fifteen pence. “I can see there’ll be some nasty scenes.”
But despite Mrs Bird’s misgivings, within a week or two the first of the seeds began to sprout and in no time at all ‘Paddington’s Patch’ was such a blaze of colour it soon put the rest of the garden to shame.
From that moment on Paddington spent most of his spare time out of doors, and when he began supplying the household with vegetables as well as flowers everyone had to agree with Mrs Brown that he must have been born with green paws.
“I must say the garden is a picture at the moment,” she continued, as she turned to help Mrs Bird with the washing-up. “Even Mr Curry called out this morning and said how nice it looks.”
“If I know Mr Curry,” said Mrs Bird darkly, “he was probably after something. He doesn’t say things like that without a very good reason.”
“Perhaps he wants some cheap vegetables,” said Mrs Brown. “You know how mean he is.”
“He’ll be lucky with that bear,” replied Mrs Bird. “And quite right too, seeing the state his own garden’s in. It’s a disgrace.”
Mr Curry’s lawn was very overgrown with weeds and Mrs Bird held strong views about the way the seeds blew over the fence whenever there was a strong wind.
“Funnily enough,” said Mrs Brown, “I think he was just getting his lawnmower out when he spoke to me. Perhaps he’s going to make a start.”
“Not before time,” snorted Mrs Bird. “And I shall believe it when I see it. He’s much more likely