later. “What on earth can that mean?”
Mr Brown adjusted his glasses and stared at the screen, “WILL THE OWNER OF THE YOUNG BEAR IN THE CIRCLE KINDLY REPORT TO THE MANAGER’S OFFICE IMMEDIATELY,” he read.
“I don’t know, Mary,” he said, as he made to get to his feet, “but I’m certainly going to find out.”
“Owner indeed!” snorted Mrs Bird. “As if anyone owned Paddington.”
“The boot’s on the other paw, if you ask me,” began Mr Brown. “Paddington owns us.” As he was speaking, a strange expression came over his face.
“Well, Henry,” said Mrs Brown, staring at her husband, “aren’t you going to do something about it?”
“I… I… can’t get up,” exclaimed Mr Brown, feeling his seat. “I seem to be stuck to something… Nougat!” he said bitterly. “Paddington’s nougat! No wonder the manager wants to see me in his office.”
Unaware of all the excitement that was going on, Paddington pushed open a door and made his way down the aisle of the stalls until he came across a girl selling ice-cream.
“Excuse me,” he said, climbing up on to a seat and tapping her on the shoulder, “can you tell me where the indisposed man is?”
“The indisposed man?” repeated the girl.
“That’s right,” said Paddington patiently. “The one who’s supposed to come up through the floor.”
“Oh, you mean the organist,” said the girl. “Mr Reginald Clove. He’s through that little door there. The one under the stage.”
Before she could explain that no one was allowed through it without permission Paddington had disappeared again.
Mr Reginald Clove looked quite startled when Paddington came through the door. He had been expecting someone to come, but he certainly hadn’t expected it to be a bear.
“Are you from the first aid?” he asked, looking at Paddington rather doubtfully.
“Oh, no,” said Paddington, politely raising his hat. “I’m from number thirty-two Windsor Gardens and I’ve come about the organ.”
Mr Clove stepped back a pace. “You’ve come about the organ?” he repeated, trying to humour Paddington.
“Yes,” said Paddington. “I wanted to see it come up through the floor.”
“Oh!” Mr Clove’s face cleared. “Is that all?”
“All!” exclaimed Paddington hotly. “It’s very important. Mr Brown was looking forward to it.”
“Oh dear,” said Mr Clove, idly sorting through a pile of music with his good hand. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could oblige. But I’ve hurt my hand, you see, and I’ve no one to turn the music for me, and…” He looked thoughtfully at Paddington. “Do you like music, bear?” he asked suddenly.
“Oh, yes,” replied Paddington. “But I don’t really play anything except the comb and paper and I’m not very good at that because I get my whiskers caught in the comb.”
“Do you think you could turn the music for me?” asked Mr Clove.
“Well,” said Paddington doubtfully, “it’s a bit difficult for bears because of their paws, but if you could tell me when to do it I could try.
Mr Clove came to a decision. “You’ll do,” he said briskly. “Come with me.”
“Goings on!” exclaimed Mrs Bird, waving her handbag at the manager. “They weren’t ‘goings on’. He was only enjoying himself.”
“Bear’s boos,” said the manager sternly. “In the Podium circle. And nougat on one of my best seats.”
“Then you shouldn’t sell it,” replied Mrs Bird. “It’s asking for trouble.”
“Well, where is he now?” demanded the manager. “Tell me that. I want to start the big picture. We’re five minutes late already.”
The Browns exchanged anxious glances. Knowing Paddington, he might be anywhere, but before they had time to reply they were all startled into silence by a loud rumbling from the front of the cinema which grew and grew in volume until the whole place began to shake.
“Good heavens!” exclaimed the manager as a burst of applause swept through the audience. “It’s Reginald Clove playing ‘Rule Britannia!’ And with one hand, too!”
They all stared over the balcony as the lights dimmed and the organ rose into view bathed in a pink spotlight.
“Mercy me,” cried Mrs Bird, clutching her seat. “And there’s that bear—what on earth is he doing now?”
Paddington felt most important as he rode up on the organ and he wished he could turn and wave to the Browns to let them know where he was, but he was much too busy carrying out Mr Clove’s instructions.
Even so, there was one nasty moment when, in his excitement, he turned over two pages of music at once by mistake. Mr Clove looked most surprised when he suddenly found himself playing a selection from The Gondoliers instead of ‘Rule Britannia’ but he quickly recovered and in the general excitement no one seemed to notice.
The audience applauded all the items and Paddington felt quite sorry when Mr Clove at last pressed a button by his side and the organ began to sink back through the floor. But as it finally disappeared from view and the last notes of the music died away a loud cheer went up from the audience and several voices were heard shouting for more.
Afterwards everyone agreed that good though the big picture was, the organ had been the high spot of the evening. Even the manager of the Podium seemed very pleased and he took the Browns on a tour behind the scenes before they left.
“I don’t suppose,” said Paddington thoughtfully, as they made their way home, “there are many bears who’ve been for a ride on an organ. Especially one that comes up through the floor.”
“And I don’t suppose,” said Mr Brown, as he turned and looked hard at Paddington, “that there are many people who’ve been stuck to their seat by a piece of bear’s nougat.”
But Paddington had his eyes closed. He wasn’t exactly asleep, but he had a lot of things to write in his scrapbook that night when he went to bed. He’d enjoyed his visit to the pictures and it needed a lot of careful thought to put it all into words.
“Two days!” exclaimed Mrs Brown, staring at Doctor MacAndrew in horror. “Do you mean to say we’ve to stay in bed for two whole days?”
“Aye,” said Doctor MacAndrew, “there’s a nasty wee bug going the rounds and if ye don’t I’ll no’
