Paddington Takes the Air. Michael Bond

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Chapter One A VISIT TO THE DENTIST

      PADDINGTON STARED AT Mrs Brown as if he could hardly believe his ears. “You’ve dropped my tooth down the waste disposal!” he exclaimed. “I shan’t even be able to put it under my pillow now!”

      Mrs Brown peered helplessly into the gaping hole at the bottom of her kitchen sink. “I’m awfully sorry, dear,” she replied. “It must have been in the leavings when I cleared up after breakfast. I think you’ll have to leave a note explaining what happened.”

      It was a tradition in the Browns’ household that anyone who lost a tooth and left it under their pillow that night would find it replaced by fifty pence the next morning, and Paddington looked most upset at being deprived of this experience.

      “Perhaps we could try looking under the cover outside,” suggested Judy hopefully. “It might still be in the drain.”

      “I shouldn’t think so,” said Jonathan. “Those waste disposals are jolly good. They grind up anything. It even managed that everlasting toffee Paddington gave me yesterday.

      “It was a super one,” he added hastily, as he caught Paddington’s eye. “I wish I could make one half as nice. It was a bit big, though. I couldn’t quite finish it.”

      “Well,” said Mr Brown, returning to the vexed question of Paddington’s tooth, “at least it didn’t jam the machine. We’ve only had it a fortnight.”

      But if Mr Brown was trying to strike a cheerful note, he failed miserably, for Paddington gave him a very hard stare indeed.

      “I’ve had my tooth ever since I was born,” he said. “And it was my best one. I don’t know what Aunt Lucy’s going to say when I write and tell her.”

      And with that parting shot, he hurried out of the kitchen and disappeared upstairs in the direction of his room leaving behind a very unhappy group of Browns indeed.

      “I don’t see how anyone can have a best tooth,” said Mr Brown, as he made ready to leave for the office.

      “Well,” said Mrs Bird, their housekeeper, “best or not, I must say I don’t blame that bear. I don’t think I’d be too happy at the thought of one of my teeth going down a waste disposal – even if it was an accident.”

      “It would have to be Paddington’s,” said Judy. “You know how he hates losing anything. Especially when it’s something he’s cleaned twice a day.”

      “We shall never hear the last of it,” agreed Mrs Brown. She looked round the kitchen at the remains of the breakfast things. “I do hate Mondays. I don’t know why, but there always seems to be more dried egg on the plates than any other day.”

      The others fell silent. It was one of those mornings at number thirty-two Windsor Gardens. Things had started badly when Paddington СКАЧАТЬ