More About Paddington

“A photograph?” exclaimed Mrs Bird. “What a funny thing you should say that.”

“Oh?” said Mr Brown. “Why’s that?”

Mrs Bird busied herself with the teapot. “You’ll see – all in good time,” she said. And try as they might that was all the others could get from her.

Fortunately, she was saved any further questions, for at that moment there came a loud banging noise from the direction of the dining-room and Paddington himself appeared at the French windows. He was struggling with a large cardboard box, across the top of which lay a mysterious-looking metal object with long spikes on one end.

But it wasn’t so much what he was carrying that caused a gasp of astonishment from the others. It was his general appearance.

His fur had an unusually soft, golden look about it, and his ears, or as much of them as they could see poking out from beneath the wide brim of his old hat, were as black and shiny as the tip of his nose. Even his paws and whiskers had to be seen to be believed.

Everyone sat up in amazement and Mrs Brown dropped several stitches.

“Good heavens!” spluttered Mr Brown, nearly spilling his tea over the encyclopedia. “What have you been doing to yourself?”

“I’ve been having a bath,” said Paddington, looking most offended.

“A bath?” repeated Judy, slowly. “Without being asked?”

“Crikey!” said Jonathan. “We’d better put the flags out.”

“You are all right?” asked Mr Brown. “I mean – you’re not feeling ill or anything?”

Paddington became even more injured at the excitement he had caused. It wasn’t as if he never had a wash. In fact he had one most mornings. It was simply that he had decided views on baths in particular. Having a bath meant getting his fur wet all over and it took a long time to dry. “I only wanted to look nice for the photograph,” he said firmly.

“The photograph?” everyone echoed. It was really uncanny the way Paddington knew about things.

“Yes,” said Paddington. An important expression came over his face as he bent down and started undoing the string round his cardboard box. “I’ve bought myself a camera.”

There was a moment’s silence while the Browns watched the back view of Paddington bending over the box.

“A camera,” said Mrs Brown at last. “But aren’t they very expensive?”

“This one wasn’t,” said Paddington, breathing hard. He stood up, clutching the biggest camera the Browns had ever seen. “I bought it at a sale in the market. It was only three pounds!”

“Three pounds!” exclaimed Mr Brown looking most impressed. He turned to the others. “I must say I’ve never known a bear with such an eye for a bargain as Paddington.”

“Gosh!” said Jonathan. “It’s got a hood to put over your head and everything.”

“What’s that long thing?” asked Judy.

“That’s a tripod,” explained Paddington proudly. He sat down on the floor and began unfolding the legs. “It’s to stand the camera on so that it doesn’t shake.”

Mr Brown picked up the camera and examined it. As he turned it over some rusty screws and several old nails fell out. “Isn’t it rather old?” he asked, without thinking. “It looks as if someone’s been using it as a work-box instead of a camera.”

Paddington lifted the brim of his hat and gave Mr Brown a hard stare. “It’s a very rare sort,” he replied. “The man in the bargain shop said so.”

“Well, I think it’s super,” exclaimed Jonathan, excitedly. “Bags you take my picture first, Paddington.”

“I’ve only got one plate,” said Paddington decidedly. “Extra ones cost a lot and I haven’t any pocket money left – so I’m afraid you’ll all have to be in a group.”

“It certainly looks most complicated, and rather large for a bear,” remarked Mrs Brown as Paddington screwed the camera on to the tripod and then adjusted the legs so that they were the right height. “Are you sure you’ll be able to work it?”

“I think so,” said Paddington. His voice became muffled as he disappeared underneath the black hood at the back. “Mr Gruber lent me a book all about photography and I’ve been practising under the bedclothes.”

Mr Gruber, who kept an antique shop in the Portobello market, was a close friend of Paddington and helped him with all his problems.

“Well, in that case” – Mr Brown took charge of the situation – “I suggest we all go on to the lawn and let Paddington take our picture while the sun’s shining.” And he led the way outside while Paddington bustled around erecting his camera and tripod.

In a few moments Paddington announced that everything was ready and he began arranging the group as he wanted them, running back to the camera every now and then to peer at them through the lens.

Because the camera was so near the ground he had to put Mr Brown crouching in a rather uncomfortable position behind Jonathan and Judy, with Mrs Brown and Mrs Bird sitting on either side.

Although he didn’t say anything, Paddington was a bit disappointed with the view through the camera. He could just recognise Mr Brown because of his moustache, but the others were much more difficult. Everyone seemed blurred, almost as if they were standing in a fog. It was strange, for when he took his head out of the cloth it was quite sunny outside.

The Browns waited patiently while Paddington sat on the grass and consulted his instruction book. Almost at once he discovered a very interesting chapter headed focus. It explained how, if you wanted nice clear pictures, it was important to make sure the camera was the right distance away, and properly adjusted. It even had a picture showing a man measuring the distance with a piece of string.

Several minutes went by, for Paddington was rather a slow reader, and there were a number of diagrams to examine.

“I hope he’s not too long,” said Mr Brown. “I think I’ve got cramp coming on.”

“He’ll be disappointed if you move,” said Mrs Brown. “He took such a lot of trouble arranging us all and it really looks very nice.”

“That’s all very well,” grumbled Mr Brown. “You’re sitting down.”

“Ssh!” replied Mrs Brown. “I think he’s almost ready now. He’s doing something with a piece of string.”

“What on earth is that for?” asked Mr Brown.

“It’s to measure you,” said Paddington, tying a loop in the end.

“Well, if you don’t mind,” protested Mr Brown, when he saw what Paddington was up to, “I’d much rather you tied the other end on to the camera instead of this end to my ear!” The rest of his sentence disappeared in a gurgle as Paddington pulled the string tight.

Paddington looked rather surprised and examined the knot round Mr Brown’s ear with interest. “I think I must have made a slip knot by mistake,” he announced eventually. Paddington wasn’t very good at knots – mainly because having paws made things difficult for him.

“Really, Henry,” said Mrs Brown. “Don’t make such a fuss. Anyone would think you’d been hurt.”

Mr Brown rubbed his ear, which had gone a funny mauve colour. “It’s my ear,” he said, “and it jolly well does hurt.”

“Now where’s he going?” exclaimed Mrs Bird, as Paddington hurried off towards the house.

“I expect he’s gone to measure the string,” said Jonathan.

“Huh!” said Mr Brown. “Well, I’m going to stand up.”

“Henry!” said Mrs Brown. “If you do I shall be very cross.”

“It’s too late anyway,” groaned Mr Brown. “My leg’s gone to sleep.”