nodded. Now that Mr Gruber mentioned it, he did remember his Aunt Lucy taking him to a firework display. Although he’d only been very small at the time he had enjoyed it very much.
“We only have fireworks once a year here,” said Mr Gruber. “On November the Fifth.” And then he went on to tell Paddington all about the plot to blow up the Houses of Parliament many years ago, and how its discovery at the last moment had been celebrated ever since by the burning of bonfires and letting off of fireworks.
Mr Gruber was very good at explaining things and Paddington thanked him when he had finished.
Mr Gruber sighed and a far-away look came into his eyes. “It’s a long time since I had any fireworks of my own, Mr Brown,” he said. “A very long time indeed.”
“Well, Mr Gruber,” said Paddington, importantly. “I think we’re going to have a display. You must come to ours.”
Mr Gruber looked so pleased at being invited that Paddington hurried off at once to finish his shopping. He was anxious to get back to the newsagent’s quickly so that he could investigate the fireworks properly.
When he entered the shop the man looked at him doubtfully over the top of the counter. “Fireworks?” he said. “I’m not sure that I’m supposed to serve young bears with fireworks.”
Paddington gave him a hard stare. “In Darkest Peru,” he said, remembering all that Mr Gruber had told him, “we had fireworks every fête day.”
“I dare say,” said the man. “But this isn’t Darkest Peru – nor nothing like it. What do you want – bangers or the other sort?”
“I think I’d like to try some you can hold in the paw for a start,” said Paddington.
The man hesitated. “All right,” he said. “I’ll let you have a packet of best sparklers. But if you singe your whiskers don’t come running to me grumbling and wanting your money back.”
Paddington promised he would be very careful and was soon hurrying back up the road towards the Browns’ house. As he rounded the last corner he bumped into a small boy wheeling a pram.
The boy held out a cap containing several coppers and touched his hat respectfully. “Penny for the guy, sir.”
“Thank you very much,” said Paddington, taking a penny out of the cap. “It’s very kind of you.”
“Oi!” said the boy as Paddington turned to go. “Oi! You’re supposed to give me a penny – not take one yourself.”
Paddington stared at him. “Give you a penny?” he said, hardly able to believe his ears. “What for?”
“For the guy, of course,” said the boy. “That’s what I said – a penny for the guy!” He pointed to the pram and Paddington noticed for the first time that there was a figure inside it. It was dressed in an old suit and wearing a mask. It looked just like the one he’d seen in the shop window earlier that morning.
Paddington was so surprised that he had undone his suitcase and placed a penny in the boy’s hat before he really knew what he was doing.
“If you don’t like giving a penny for the guy,” said the small boy as he turned to go, “why don’t you get one of your own? All you need is an old suit and a bit of straw.”
Paddington was very thoughtful as he made his way home. He even almost forgot to ask for a second helping at lunch.
“I do hope he hasn’t hit on another of his ideas,” said Mrs Brown, as Paddington asked to be excused and disappeared into the garden. “It’s most unlike him to have to be reminded about things like that. Especially when it’s stew. He’s usually so fond of dumplings.”
“I expect it’s an Idea,” said Mrs Bird, ominously. “I know the signs.”
“Well, I expect the fresh air will do him good,” said Mrs Brown, looking out of the window. “And it’s very good of him to offer to sweep up all the leaves. The garden’s in such a mess.”
“It’s November,” said Mrs Bird. “Guy Fawkes!”
“Oh!” said Mrs Brown. “Oh dear!”
For the next hour Paddington enjoyed himself in the garden with Mrs Bird’s dustpan and brush. The Browns had a number of trees and very soon he had a large pile of leaves, almost twice his own height, in the middle of the cabbage patch. It was while he was sitting down for a rest in the middle of the flower bed that he felt someone watching him.
He looked up to see Mr Curry, the Browns’ next-door neighbour, eyeing him suspiciously over the fence. Mr Curry wasn’t very fond of bears and he was always trying to catch Paddington doing something he shouldn’t so that he could report him. He had a reputation in the neighbourhood for being mean and disagreeable, and the Browns had as little to do with him as possible.
“What are you doing, bear?” he growled at Paddington. “I hope you’re not thinking of setting light to all those leaves.”
“Oh no,” said Paddington. “It’s for Guy Fawkes.”
“Fireworks!” said Mr Curry, grumpily. “Nasty things. Banging away and frightening people.”
Paddington, who had been toying with the idea of trying out one of his sparklers, hastily hid the packet behind his back. “Aren’t you having any fireworks then, Mr Curry?” he asked, politely.
“Fireworks?” Mr Curry looked at Paddington with distaste. “Me? I can’t afford them, bear. Waste of money. And what’s more, if I get any coming over in my garden I shall report the whole matter to the police!”
Paddington felt very glad he hadn’t tested his sparkler.
“Mind you, bear” – a sly gleam came into Mr Curry’s eye and he looked round carefully to make sure no one else was listening – “if anyone likes to invite me to their firework display, that’s a different matter.” He signalled Paddington over to the fence and began whispering in his ear. As Paddington listened his face got longer and longer and his whiskers began to sag.
“I think it’s disgraceful,” said Mrs Bird later on that day when she heard that Mr Curry had invited himself to the firework party. “Frightening a young bear like that with talk of police and such like. Just because he’s too mean to buy his own fireworks. It’s a good job he didn’t say it to me – I’d have told him a thing or two!”
“Poor Paddington,” said Mrs Brown. “He looked most upset. Where is he now?”
“I don’t know,” said Mrs Bird. “He’s gone off somewhere looking for some straw. I expect it’s to do with his bonfire.”
She returned to the subject of Mr Curry. “When I think of all the errands that young bear’s run for him – wearing his paws to the bone – just because he’s too lazy to go himself.”
“He does take advantage of people,” said Mrs Brown. “Why, he even left his old suit on the porch this morning to be collected by our laundry for cleaning.”
