A Bear Called Paddington

Judy was about to reply when another drop of water fell down from the ceiling, this time right on to the table.

“Oh, gosh!” She jumped to her feet, pulling Jonathan after her. There was an ominous wet patch right over their heads and right underneath the bathroom!

“Where are you going now, dear?” asked Mrs Brown.

“Oh, just upstairs to see how Paddington’s getting on.” Judy pushed Jonathan through the door and shut it quickly behind them.

“Crikey,” said Jonathan. “What’s up?”

“It’s Paddington,” cried Judy over her shoulder as she rushed up the stairs. “I think he’s in trouble!”

She ran along the landing and banged loudly on the bathroom door. “Are you all right, Paddington?” she shouted. “May we come in?”

“HELP! HELP!” shouted Paddington.”Please come in. I think I’m going to drown!”

“Oh, Paddington.” Judy leant over the side of the bath and helped Jonathan lift a dripping and very frightened Paddington on to the floor. “Oh, Paddington! Thank goodness you’re all right!”

Paddington lay on his back in a pool of water. “What a good job I had my hat,” he panted. “Aunt Lucy told me never to be without it.”

“But why on earth didn’t you pull the plug out, you silly?” said Judy.

“Oh!” Paddington looked crestfallen. “I… I never thought of that.”

Jonathan looked admiringly at Paddington. “Crikey,” he said. “Fancy you making all this mess. Even I’ve never made as much mess as this!”

Paddington sat up and looked around. The whole of the bathroom floor was covered in a sort of white foam where the hot water had landed on his map of South America. “It is a bit untidy,” he admitted. “I don’t really know how it got like that.”

“Untidy!” Judy lifted him to his feet and wrapped a towel around him. “Paddington, we’ve all got a lot of work to do before we go downstairs again. If Mrs Bird sees this I don’t know what she’ll say.”

“I do,” exclaimed Jonathan. “She says it to me sometimes.”

Judy began wiping the floor with a cloth. “Now just you dry yourself quickly in case you catch cold.”

Paddington began rubbing himself meekly with the towel. “I must say,” he remarked, looking at himself in the mirror. “I am a lot cleaner than I was. It doesn’t look like me at all!”

Paddington did look much cleaner than when he had first arrived at the Browns. His fur, which was really quite light in colour and not dark brown as it had been, was standing out like a new brush, except that it was soft and silky. His nose gleamed and his ears had lost all traces of the jam and cream. He was so much cleaner that when he arrived downstairs and entered the dining-room some time later, everyone pretended not to recognise him.