Read Online Paddington Races Ahead by Michael Bond - Free Book Online
Authors: Michael Bond
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your pardon. You never know who does what these days.”
Holding his paw in a vice-like grip, she began pumping it up and down. “Brimstone’s the name. I’m not officially open as yet, but the early bird catches the worm, so I’m entirely at your disposal.”
It was Paddington’s turn to look confused. Close to, Miss Brimstone looked rather larger than he had expected.
“I saw the pictures in the corridor,” he ventured, “and I was hoping I might have one of your walnuts. I didn’t have much breakfast this morning.”
Miss Brimstone gave a shudder. “A walnut for breakfast?” she boomed. “We don’t have any of those goings-on round here. A glass of water and an occasional Liquorice Allsort, perhaps…”
“In that case,” said Paddington. “May I have my paw back?”
Miss Brimstone promptly released her grip.
“Thank you very much,” said Paddington, raising his hat politely.
Miss Brimstone gazed at the top of his head. “What on earth is that excrescence?” she exclaimed. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it before and I’ve travelled the world. Perhaps it needs a good squeeze.”
Paddington anxiously ran a free paw over the top of his head. As he did so, his face cleared.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Miss Brimstone,” he said. “It’s what’s left of a marmalade sandwich. I always keep one under my hat in case I have an emergency. I had a bite out of it on the way here, just in case.”
“Well, if you want me to take you on that will have to stop,” said Miss Brimstone. “As of now. Snacks between meals are strictly forbidden.” She eyed Paddington somewhat dubiously. “I haven’t come across that kind of thing before,” she said. “Even though I’ve been practising for over ten years.”
“I’m sure you’ll get it right in the end, Miss Brimstone,” said Paddington politely. “My friend, Mr Gruber, is always saying ‘practice makes perfect’.”
Miss Brimstone gave him a sickly smile, and having locked the front door, led the way into a room at the back.
“You had better take your duffle coat off before we do anything else,” she said. “Then I can give you the once-over. To start with I must take a look at your abs.”
“My abs!” exclaimed Paddington. “I don’t think I have any.”
“Nonsense!” said Miss Brimstone briskly. “Every one has abs to a greater or lesser extent. Abs is short for abdominal muscles. Perhaps you would allow me to feel yours so that we can see where we stand…”
“If it had been a few weeks ago you could have felt my oysters,” said Paddington.
“You win some – you lose some,” said Miss Brimstone distantly.
Having placed his duffle coat on a nearby hook, she turned to take a closer look at her new arrival and tentatively reached out a hand.
“Tickiley wickiley,” she trilled.
Paddington hastily backed away. “Bless you!” he exclaimed.
Miss Brimstone changed the subject. “It’s hard to tell with all that fur,” she said. “But I don’t think we’ve left it too late. A bit off here – a bit off there, will work wonders. Tell me about your drinking habits.”
“Well,” said Paddington, “I usually have two mugs of cocoa at breakfast, and then another one for my elevenses.”
“That’s something else that will have to stop,” said Miss Brimstone sternly. “Cocoa is far too rich. A glass or two of hot water will be much better for you in the long run.”
She led him towards some scales.
“I think perhaps we had better check our weight first of all…”
“After you, Miss Brimstone,” said Paddington politely.
“No,” said Miss Brimstone through slightly gritted teeth. “After you . When I said our weight I meant yours, of course.
“Tell me, do you get much exercise?”
“I ran all the way down to the Portobello Road the other day,” said Paddington, “I was going so fast I was asked to do an interview on the radio.”
“Good… good,” said Miss Grimshaw.
Holding his paw in a vice-like grip, she began pumping it up and down. “Brimstone’s the name. I’m not officially open as yet, but the early bird catches the worm, so I’m entirely at your disposal.”
It was Paddington’s turn to look confused. Close to, Miss Brimstone looked rather larger than he had expected.
“I saw the pictures in the corridor,” he ventured, “and I was hoping I might have one of your walnuts. I didn’t have much breakfast this morning.”
Miss Brimstone gave a shudder. “A walnut for breakfast?” she boomed. “We don’t have any of those goings-on round here. A glass of water and an occasional Liquorice Allsort, perhaps…”
“In that case,” said Paddington. “May I have my paw back?”
Miss Brimstone promptly released her grip.
“Thank you very much,” said Paddington, raising his hat politely.
Miss Brimstone gazed at the top of his head. “What on earth is that excrescence?” she exclaimed. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it before and I’ve travelled the world. Perhaps it needs a good squeeze.”
Paddington anxiously ran a free paw over the top of his head. As he did so, his face cleared.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Miss Brimstone,” he said. “It’s what’s left of a marmalade sandwich. I always keep one under my hat in case I have an emergency. I had a bite out of it on the way here, just in case.”
“Well, if you want me to take you on that will have to stop,” said Miss Brimstone. “As of now. Snacks between meals are strictly forbidden.” She eyed Paddington somewhat dubiously. “I haven’t come across that kind of thing before,” she said. “Even though I’ve been practising for over ten years.”
“I’m sure you’ll get it right in the end, Miss Brimstone,” said Paddington politely. “My friend, Mr Gruber, is always saying ‘practice makes perfect’.”
Miss Brimstone gave him a sickly smile, and having locked the front door, led the way into a room at the back.
“You had better take your duffle coat off before we do anything else,” she said. “Then I can give you the once-over. To start with I must take a look at your abs.”
“My abs!” exclaimed Paddington. “I don’t think I have any.”
“Nonsense!” said Miss Brimstone briskly. “Every one has abs to a greater or lesser extent. Abs is short for abdominal muscles. Perhaps you would allow me to feel yours so that we can see where we stand…”
“If it had been a few weeks ago you could have felt my oysters,” said Paddington.
“You win some – you lose some,” said Miss Brimstone distantly.
Having placed his duffle coat on a nearby hook, she turned to take a closer look at her new arrival and tentatively reached out a hand.
“Tickiley wickiley,” she trilled.
Paddington hastily backed away. “Bless you!” he exclaimed.
Miss Brimstone changed the subject. “It’s hard to tell with all that fur,” she said. “But I don’t think we’ve left it too late. A bit off here – a bit off there, will work wonders. Tell me about your drinking habits.”
“Well,” said Paddington, “I usually have two mugs of cocoa at breakfast, and then another one for my elevenses.”
“That’s something else that will have to stop,” said Miss Brimstone sternly. “Cocoa is far too rich. A glass or two of hot water will be much better for you in the long run.”
She led him towards some scales.
“I think perhaps we had better check our weight first of all…”
“After you, Miss Brimstone,” said Paddington politely.
“No,” said Miss Brimstone through slightly gritted teeth. “After you . When I said our weight I meant yours, of course.
“Tell me, do you get much exercise?”
“I ran all the way down to the Portobello Road the other day,” said Paddington, “I was going so fast I was asked to do an interview on the radio.”
“Good… good,” said Miss Grimshaw.
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