“I thought it had been put out for the rummage sale…”
“The rummage sale?” cried Mr Curry, almost beside himself with rage. “The rummage sale? My best suit! I’ll… I’ll…” Mr Curry was spluttering so much he couldn’t think of anything to say. But Mrs Bird could.
“To start with,” she said, “it wasn’t your best suit. It’s been sent to the cleaners at least six times to my knowledge. And I’m quite sure Paddington didn’t know it was yours. In any case,” she finished triumphantly, “who was it insisted it should go on the bonfire in the first place?”
Mr Brown tried hard not to laugh, and then he caught Mr Gruber’s eye looking at him over the top of his handkerchief. “You did, you know,” he spluttered. “You said put it on the bonfire. And Paddington tried to stop you!”
Mr Curry struggled hard for a moment as he looked from one to the other. But he knew when he was beaten. He gave one final glare all round the party and then stalked off into the night. A moment later the sound of a front door being slammed echoed around the houses.
“Well,” chuckled Mr Gruber, “I must say that when young Mr Brown’s around there’s never a dull moment!” He felt underneath his chair and brought out a cardboard box. “Now I vote we get on with the display. And just in case we run out of fireworks – I’ve brought a few more along.”
“You know, it’s funny you should say that,” said Mr Brown, feeling under his chair. “But I have some as well!”
Afterwards everyone in the neighbourhood voted it was the best firework display they had seen for many a year. Quite a number of people turned up to watch, and even Mr Curry was seen peeping from behind his curtains on several occasions.
And as Paddington lifted a tired paw and waved the last sparkler in the air to spell out the words T-H-E E-N-D, everyone agreed they had never seen such a successful bonfire before – or such a well-dressed guy.
That evening, after the bonfire had died away, the weather suddenly became even colder. When Paddington went upstairs to bed he opened his window a few inches and peeped out in case there were any more fireworks to see. He sniffed the cold night air and then hastily shut the window, diving into bed and pulling the blankets over his ears.
In the morning he woke much earlier than usual, shivering with cold, and found to his surprise that the ends of his whiskers, which had become uncovered during the night, were quite stiff. Having listened for a while to make sure breakfast was being cooked, he put on his duffle coat and went along to the bathroom.
When he reached the bathroom, Paddington made several interesting discoveries. First, his flannel, which he’d left folded over the towel rail the night before, was as stiff as a board, and it made a funny crackling noise when he tried to bend it straight. Then, when he turned the tap, nothing happened. Paddington decided quite quickly that he wasn’t meant to wash that morning and hurried back to his own room.
But when he got there he had yet another surprise. He drew the curtains and tried to look out of his window, only to find that it was all white and frosted – just like the one in the bathroom. Paddington breathed heavily on the glass and rubbed it with the back of his paw. When he had made a hole big enough to peer through, he nearly fell over backwards with astonishment.
All traces of the previous evening’s bonfire had completely vanished. Instead, everything was covered by a thick blanket of white. Not only that, but there were millions of large white flakes falling out of the sky.
He rushed downstairs to tell the others. The Browns were all sitting round the breakfast table when he burst into the dining-room. Paddington waved his paws wildly in the air and called for them to look out of the window.
“Good heavens!” exclaimed Mr Brown, looking up from his morning paper. “What is the matter?”
“Look!” said Paddington, pointing towards the garden. “Everything’s gone white!”
Judy threw back her head and laughed. “It’s all right, Paddington – it’s only snow. It happens every year.”
“Snow?” said Paddington, looking puzzled. “What’s snow?”
“It’s a nuisance,” said Mr Brown crossly. Mr Brown wasn’t in a very good mood that morning. He hadn’t expected the weather to change so quickly and all the upstairs water pipes had frozen. To make matters worse, everyone had been blaming him because he’d forgotten to stoke the boiler before going to bed.
“Snow?” said Judy. “Well, it’s… it’s sort of frozen rain. It’s very soft.”
“Jolly good for snowballs,” exclaimed Jonathan. “We’ll show you how to make them after breakfast. We can clear the paths at the same time.”
Paddington sat down at the breakfast table and began undoing his napkin, hardly able to take his eyes off the scene outside the window.
“Paddington!” said Mrs Brown, suspiciously. “Did you wear your duffle coat when you washed this morning?”
“A lick and a promise,” said Mrs Bird, as she handed him a steaming bowl of porridge. “And more promise than lick if you ask me.”
But Paddington was much too busy thinking about the snow to hear what they were saying. He was wondering if he could speed up the breakfast by having all his things on one plate. But just as he reached out for the bacon and eggs and the marmalade, he caught Mrs Bird’s eye and hurriedly pretended he was only conducting to the music on the wireless.
“If you do go out after breakfast, Paddington,” said Mrs Brown, “I think it would be nice if you could clear Mr Curry’s path for him before you do ours. We all know it wasn’t your fault about his suit last night, but it would show you mean well.”
“That’s a good idea,” exclaimed Jonathan. “We’ll give you a hand. Then we can use all the snow we get to build a snowman this afternoon. How about it, Paddington?”
Paddington looked rather doubtful. Whenever he tried to do anything for Mr Curry, something always seemed to go wrong.
“But no playing snowballs,” warned Mrs Bird. “Mr Curry always sleeps with his bedroom window open – even in the middle of winter. If you wake him he won’t like it at all.”
Paddington, Jonathan and Judy agreed to be as quiet as they could and as soon as breakfast was over they dressed in their warmest clothes and rushed outside to look at the snow.
Paddington was very impressed. It was much deeper than he had expected, but not at all as cold as he thought it would be, except when he stood for very long in the one place. Within a few minutes all three were busy with shovels and brooms clearing Mr Curry’s paths for him.
Jonathan and Judy started on the pavement outside the house. Paddington fetched his seaside bucket and spade and began work on Mr Curry’s back garden path, which was not quite so wide.
He filled his bucket with snow and then tipped it
