Paddington on Top

“I see no mention of Aunt Lucy, Mr. Cloudsworthy,” he said. “Do I take it that the prosecution are not going to call her?”
“I don’t think she would hear if you did, Mr. Eagle,” said Paddington. “She’s in Peru.”

“Mr. Gruber and I were trying to get in,” said Paddington, “but we were locked out.”
“You were locked out!” exclaimed the judge. He gazed round the court in the hope of seeing who might be responsible. “This is an outrage. I will not have people prevented from appearing in this way.”

“Gosh! Fancy putting you into old Eustace’s class,” said the boy sympathetically as he led the way into the main building. “Hard luck! I should watch it. If he gets his knife into you, you’ll be for it.”

thought you said that bear was going to the Peruvian Embassy?” exclaimed the conductor.
“The Peruvian Embassy?” repeated Mrs. Brown indignantly. “We certainly said no such thing.”
“But you said she was C.D.,” broke in the Inspector. “That stands for Corps Diplomatique, and people in the Diplomatic Corps are entitled to special treatment. That’s why we brought her here.”
“No,” said Mrs. Bird, as light began to dawn. “We didn’t say C.D. We simply said she was feeling seedy. That’s quite a different matter.”

“We’ve an emergency here. This bus has been sending out a May Day signal all the way from the West End.”
“A May Day signal!” exclaimed Paddington in surprise as he helped Aunt Lucy down the stairs. “But it’s the middle of December.”
The policeman took out his notebook as a babble of voices rose from all sides.
“A May Day signal,” he said severely, “is an automatic radio signal for emergencies only. It’s used by ships at sea and/or aircraft when they’re in distress.

He doesn’t mean he wants you to do it all again,” he said wearily. “He means you’ve scored three points for placing the ball over the line. Now, if you manage to kick the ball between the posts and over the cross bar you get two more points. That’s what’s known as ‘improving’ it.”

Now,” he added dramatically, “all you ’ave to do ees improve it and we are ’aving five points.”

“I don’t think I could improve it,” gasped Paddington. “I don’t think I could run any faster if I tried.”

“I’m afraid he’s been sent off because he’s got what they call a ‘loose arm,’” explained Mr. Gruber, when he saw the look on Paddington’s face.
Paddington gave the referee a hard stare. “I’m not surprised!” he exclaimed.

“I’ll probably see you in the stand, Mr. Brown,” he said.
Paddington looked rather embarrassed. “I think we shall be sitting down, Mr. Gruber,” he said. “Mrs. Bird told me I would have to wrap up well and to take a cushion because the seats are very hard.”
Mr. Gruber laughed. “When you go to a rugby match, Mr. Brown,” he said, “they call the places where you sit ‘stands.’ I’m afraid it’s rather like the game itself—it’s a bit difficult to explain.”

“It’s meant for seven-stone weaklings. There’s a letter here from one just like you.”
“What!” Mr. Curry grew purple in the face. “Are you calling me a seven-stone weakling, bear?”
Paddington nodded, oblivious to the gathering storm clouds on Mr. Curry’s brow. “He’s written a testimonial saying how good they are,” he continued eagerly. “I expect if you had a go every day you could become an eight-stone weakling in no time at all. It’s worth over thirty pounds, and if it doesn’t work you get your money back.”