Paddington Takes the Test

on’t miss the opening scene, dear,” she called. “You’ll see Dick Whittington’s marmalade cat.”
Paddington licked his lips. “I shall enjoy that, Mrs. Brown,” he announced.
The Browns looked at each other uneasily. “Well . . . ,” began Mr. Brown. “Don’t be too disappointed. It isn’t a realcat.”
“I shouldn’t think so,” said Paddington. “Not if it’s made of marmalade.”
“It isn’t actually madeof marmalade either,” said Judy.
“Besides, it’s in two parts,” remarked Jonathan.
“Dick Whittington’s cat’s in two parts!” exclaimed Paddington. He jumped up from his seat in order to consult his program. Once when he’d been taken to the theater there had been a small slip tucked inside saying that one of the actors was indisposed, but either words had failed the management on this occasion, or they were keeping the matter very dark, for no matter how hard he shook his program, nothing fell out.
“I didn’t mean the catwas in two parts,” hissed Jonathan as the houselights dimmed. “I meant two people take turns to play it.”

Pity about the beef Wellington being off,” said the man. “Sounded a bit of all right, that.”
“I know,” said his companion sympathetically. “’Ad me taste buds all of aquiver it did. The waiter said they was ’aving trouble with the pastry chef and . . .”
Paddington strained his ears in an effort to catch the rest of the conversation, but it was cut off in midair by a click as the door swung shut and the speakers continued on their way.
For a moment he lay where he was, growing more and more upset. It wasn’t often Mr. Gruber gave himself a treat, and when he did, he always made sure he shared it with others. One of the things he’d specially mentioned about the present outing was the beef Wellington, and the thought of his being done out of it was most upsetting. Paddington had a strong sense of right and wrong.

“I must say,” he continued as he sat down alongside his friend, “making both ends meet can be a bit of a problem at times—especially if you don’t get your sums right.”
“Oh, I’m always very careful with my accounts, Mr. Gruber,” said Paddington. “I do them every night before I go to bed.”

“Let me tell you,” he said, turning to his class, “that anyone who captures those whiskers in oils will have their work cut out.”
“Capture my whiskers in oils!” exclaimed Paddington. “But they’re not even loose.”

“Welcome to our little gathering. Have you come to enroll?”
Paddington raised his hat politely as he shook Mr. Marsh’s outstretched hand with his other paw. “No, thank you,” he announced. “I’ve just had a marmalade sandwich.”

“Yours is one of the most original entries I’ve seen for a long time. But as it now appears to have been a joint effort, I think we shall have to split the prize down the middle.”
“I’m having my joint split down the middle!” exclaimed a voice behind the Browns. They turned just in time to see Paddington coming out from beneath a table where he had been hiding. He was looking most upset.
“No, dear,” said Mrs. Brown hastily. “You haven’t actually won a joint. Mr. Curry’s won some money, and the man in charge has very kindly suggested he shares it with you.”

Mr. Curry looked at him suspiciously. “I trust you know what you’re doing, bear?” he barked. “Everyoneknows you need a mushroom when you’re doing the mending.”
“Oh, yes, Mr. Curry,” said Paddington hastily as he caught sight of the gathering storm clouds on the face of the Browns’ neighbor. “I’ll get one from Mrs. Bird. I know where she keeps them.”

There are one or two small holes which need darning. I was going to have them invisibly mended, but if you use a mushroom you shouldn’t find it too difficult.”
“A mushroom, Mr. Curry?” repeated Pad-dington in surprise.

“You’ll be able to see what a real beef Wellington tastes like, Mr. Brown. Will you like that?”
Paddington considered the matter for a moment. “I think so, Mr. Gruber,” he announced at last. “But if you don’t mind, I won’t have any ‘bear’s-nose’ sauce with mine. I don’t think that sounds very nice at all.”

“I shall personally supervise the making of our famous beef Wellington,” he boomed amid general applause, “and I shall serve it with some of my own béarnaise sauce into the bargain.”