paws, but for the time being she kept her thoughts to herself. There was no sense in spoiling everyone else’s pleasure.
Uncle Pastuzo dropped Mr. Gruber off first.
“You have been a good friend over the years to my sobrino ,” he said, shaking him warmly by the hand. “For that I bless you.”
Somehow as Mr. Gruber waved good-bye, it all seemed very final.
The Browns’ housekeeper had difficulty in getting to sleep that night, and the result was she woke rather later than usual the next morning. Even so, the house felt strangely quiet.
Slipping into a dressing gown, she was making her way downstairs when she happened to glance out of the landing window and realized Uncle Pastuzo’s car was no longer in the driveway.
Her heart missing a beat, she hastened back upstairs to Paddington’s room.The duvet was pulled back and there was a hollow in the mattress where he must have lain, but it felt cold to the touch.
On the way down again she found two envelopes lying on the front door mat.The one marked “ Señora Bird” she put into her apron pocket for later; the other was marked for Mr. and Mrs. Brown.
Soon the whole household was awake to her calls, and everyone came rushing downstairs to see what the excitement was about.
The note to Mr. and Mrs Brown was typically short.
“Been there, done that, now is time to go home,” read Mr. Brown. “So, amigos , it is time to say adiós and gracias .”
“That’s nice,” he said, once he had got over the initial shock. “Somehow adiós sounds better than good-bye; it’s not quite so final.”
“And gracias is so much better than a simple ‘thank you,’” agreed Mrs. Brown.
“The thing is,” said Mrs. Bird, searching for the right words and hardly able to find the right ones to say what was uppermost in her mind. “Where’s Paddington?”
Something in the tone of her voice caused a ripple of apprehension to run through the others.
“He was out in the garden the last time I saw him,” said Jonathan. “I think he was doing some early-morning digging.”
One glance through the dining-room window was enough.
Paddington nearly dropped his seaside spade with surprise when he suddenly found himself surrounded by the rest of the family.
“I was looking for some buried treasure,” heannounced. “Uncle Pastuzo left me a map he made.
“He doesn’t like good-byes, so he slipped it under my door last night after I went to bed.” He held it up for the others to see. “I thought I’d better get up early in case Mr. Curry saw me and wanted to know what I was doing.”
“ X marks the spot where you start,” said Jonathan, looking at the roughly drawn map.
“It says ten paces north,” said Judy. “Then five paces east.”
“The trouble is,” said Paddington, “I’m not sure which is north.”
“I’ll get my spade,” said Mr. Brown, by now as excited as the rest of them.
Having followed the instructions, he ended up in the shrubbery. That’s my prize buddleia,” he said. “It can’t be under that. At least, I hope it isn’t.”
“It’s probably a case of bear’s paces,” said Mrs. Brown. “They’re not as long as ours. You’d better let Paddington have a go.”
Having first been pointed in the right direction, Paddington set out while the others counted the steps as he went.
Sure enough, this time the trail ended in the middle of a flower bed. Mr. Brown brushed aside a pile of leaves to reveal a freshly dug patch of earth, and after a few prods with his spade he struck metal.
“Brilliant!” exclaimed Jonathan.
“I don’t know about that,” said Mr. Brown. “It’s the box I keep my golf balls in. I hope they’re all right.”
“Do hurry up, Henry,” called Mrs. Brown. “Paddington’s waiting.”
“Why don’t you have a go then,” said Mr. Brown, handing him the spade.
Paddington needed no second bidding, and in no time at all he prized the box out of the ground and had the lid open.
The first thing he
Uncle Pastuzo dropped Mr. Gruber off first.
“You have been a good friend over the years to my sobrino ,” he said, shaking him warmly by the hand. “For that I bless you.”
Somehow as Mr. Gruber waved good-bye, it all seemed very final.
The Browns’ housekeeper had difficulty in getting to sleep that night, and the result was she woke rather later than usual the next morning. Even so, the house felt strangely quiet.
Slipping into a dressing gown, she was making her way downstairs when she happened to glance out of the landing window and realized Uncle Pastuzo’s car was no longer in the driveway.
Her heart missing a beat, she hastened back upstairs to Paddington’s room.The duvet was pulled back and there was a hollow in the mattress where he must have lain, but it felt cold to the touch.
On the way down again she found two envelopes lying on the front door mat.The one marked “ Señora Bird” she put into her apron pocket for later; the other was marked for Mr. and Mrs. Brown.
Soon the whole household was awake to her calls, and everyone came rushing downstairs to see what the excitement was about.
The note to Mr. and Mrs Brown was typically short.
“Been there, done that, now is time to go home,” read Mr. Brown. “So, amigos , it is time to say adiós and gracias .”
“That’s nice,” he said, once he had got over the initial shock. “Somehow adiós sounds better than good-bye; it’s not quite so final.”
“And gracias is so much better than a simple ‘thank you,’” agreed Mrs. Brown.
“The thing is,” said Mrs. Bird, searching for the right words and hardly able to find the right ones to say what was uppermost in her mind. “Where’s Paddington?”
Something in the tone of her voice caused a ripple of apprehension to run through the others.
“He was out in the garden the last time I saw him,” said Jonathan. “I think he was doing some early-morning digging.”
One glance through the dining-room window was enough.
Paddington nearly dropped his seaside spade with surprise when he suddenly found himself surrounded by the rest of the family.
“I was looking for some buried treasure,” heannounced. “Uncle Pastuzo left me a map he made.
“He doesn’t like good-byes, so he slipped it under my door last night after I went to bed.” He held it up for the others to see. “I thought I’d better get up early in case Mr. Curry saw me and wanted to know what I was doing.”
“ X marks the spot where you start,” said Jonathan, looking at the roughly drawn map.
“It says ten paces north,” said Judy. “Then five paces east.”
“The trouble is,” said Paddington, “I’m not sure which is north.”
“I’ll get my spade,” said Mr. Brown, by now as excited as the rest of them.
Having followed the instructions, he ended up in the shrubbery. That’s my prize buddleia,” he said. “It can’t be under that. At least, I hope it isn’t.”
“It’s probably a case of bear’s paces,” said Mrs. Brown. “They’re not as long as ours. You’d better let Paddington have a go.”
Having first been pointed in the right direction, Paddington set out while the others counted the steps as he went.
Sure enough, this time the trail ended in the middle of a flower bed. Mr. Brown brushed aside a pile of leaves to reveal a freshly dug patch of earth, and after a few prods with his spade he struck metal.
“Brilliant!” exclaimed Jonathan.
“I don’t know about that,” said Mr. Brown. “It’s the box I keep my golf balls in. I hope they’re all right.”
“Do hurry up, Henry,” called Mrs. Brown. “Paddington’s waiting.”
“Why don’t you have a go then,” said Mr. Brown, handing him the spade.
Paddington needed no second bidding, and in no time at all he prized the box out of the ground and had the lid open.
The first thing he
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