Paddington Complete Novels. Michael Bond

the room waved his hand in their direction. Paddington stood up, raised his hat and waved a friendly paw back.

      No sooner had he sat down than the man waved again. Being a polite bear, Paddington stood up and once more waved his paw.

      To his surprise the man stopped waving almost immediately and glared at him instead. Paddington gave him a hard stare and then settled down to watch the man on the platform who appeared to be doing something with his hammer again.

      “Going…” the man shouted, hitting the table. “Going… gone! Sold to the young bear gentleman in the hat for three pounds fifty!”

      “Oh dear,” said Mr Gruber, looking most upset. “I’m afraid you’ve just bought a set of carpentry tools, Mr Brown.”

      “What!” repeated Paddington, nearly falling off his suitcase with surprise. “I’ve bought a set of carpentry tools?”

      “Come along,” said the auctioneer sternly. “You’re holding up the proceedings. Pay at the desk, please.”

      “A set of carpentry tools,” exclaimed Paddington, jumping up and waving his paws in the air. “But I didn’t even say anything!”

      Mr Gruber looked most embarrassed. “I’m afraid it’s all my fault, Mr Brown,” he said. “I should have explained auction sales to you before we came in. I think perhaps I’d better pay for them as it wasn’t really your fault.

      “You see,” he continued, when he returned from the desk, “you have to be very careful at a sale, Mr Brown.”

      Mr Gruber went on to explain how the auctioneer offered each item for sale, and how, after one person had made a bid for something, it was up to anyone else who wanted it to make a better offer.

      “If you nod your head, Mr Brown,” he said, “or even scratch your nose, they think it’s a sign you want to buy something. I expect the auctioneer saw you raise your hat just now and thought you were bidding.”

      Paddington wasn’t at all sure what Mr Gruber meant, but having carefully made sure the auctioneer wasn’t looking, he quickly nodded and then sat very still while he watched the proceedings.

      Although he didn’t say anything to Mr Gruber, he was beginning to wish he hadn’t come to the auction. The room was hot and crowded and he wanted to take his hat off. Apart from that he was sitting on the handle of his suitcase, which was most uncomfortable.

      He closed his eyes and was just about to try and go to sleep when Mr Gruber nudged his paw and pointed to the catalogue.

      “I say, Mr Brown,” he said. “The next item is very interesting. It’s an old pistol – the sort highwaymen used. They’re quite popular just now. I think I shall try bidding for it.”

      Paddington sat up and watched excitedly as the auctioneer held the pistol in the air for everyone to see. “Lot thirty-four,” he shouted. “What am I bid for this genuine antique pistol?”

      “Twenty pounds,” came a voice from the back of the room.

      “Twenty pounds fifty,” called Mr Gruber, waving his catalogue.

      “Twenty-two pounds,” came another voice.

      “Oh dear,” said Mr Gruber, making some calculations on the side of his catalogue. “Twenty-two pounds fifty pence.”

      “Twenty-three pounds,” came the same voice again.

      Paddington stood on his case and stared across the room. “That’s the man who made me buy the carpentry tools by mistake,” he whispered, tapping Mr Gruber excitedly.

      “Well, we mustn’t let him have it whatever we do,” exclaimed Mr Gruber. “Twenty-three pounds fifty!”

      “Twenty-four pounds,” cried Paddington wildly.

      “Ahem,” said Mr Gruber tactfully, not wishing to offend Paddington. “I think we’re bidding against each other, Mr Brown.”

      “Any advance on twenty-four pounds?” shouted the auctioneer, looking most pleased.

      As there was no reply he raised his hammer. “Going… going…” he called. “Gone!” He brought the hammer down with a loud crash. “Sold to the young bear gentleman in the front row for twenty-four pounds.”

      Mr Gruber felt in his wallet for the money. Taking Paddington to an auction sale was becoming rather expensive.

      “I’m sorry about that, Mr Gruber,” said Paddington guiltily, when he returned. “I’m afraid I got rather excited.”

      “That’s all right,” said Mr Gruber. “It was still a very good bargain, Mr Brown – and I did want it. I shall put it in my window tomorrow.”

      “I think perhaps I’d better not do any more bidding,” said Paddington, looking very crestfallen. “I don’t think bears are very good at it.”

      “Nonsense,” said Mr Gruber. “You’ve been doing very well for a first time.”

      All the same, Paddington decided to keep quiet for a while and watch Mr Gruber. It was all very complicated and not a bit like shopping in the market, where he was allowed to test everything with his paws first before arguing over the price.

      Mr Gruber pointed out several items in the catalogue to Paddington and gave him a pencil so that he could mark off the ones he had bought and how much had been paid for them.

      The list of items Mr Gruber bought grew and grew until Paddington felt quite dizzy with writing down all the figures and he was pleased when at last he announced that he had finished buying for the day.

      “A very good day’s work indeed, Mr Brown,” he said, as he checked Paddington’s figures. “And thank you very much for all your help. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

      Paddington looked up from his own catalogue which he had been studying earnestly. “That’s all right, Mr Gruber,” he said vaguely. “Excuse me, but what is a preserves stand?”

      “A preserves stand?” said Mr Gruber. “Well, it’s a thing for holding jam or marmalade.”

      Paddington’s eyes gleamed as he started to unlock his suitcase. “I think I shall bid for that, Mr Gruber,” he said excitedly, as he peered inside the secret compartment to see how much money he had. “It’s the next item in the catalogue. I think I should like a preserves stand for my marmalade.”

      Mr Gruber looked at him rather nervously. “I should be careful if I were you, Mr Brown,” he said. “It may be an antique one. If it is it’s probably worth a lot of money.”

      But before he had time to explain to Paddington just how much it might cost him the auctioneer rapped on his table for silence.

      “Lot 99,” he shouted, as he held up a piece of shining silver to the light. “A very unusual kind of preserves stand. What am I bid for this valuable piece of antique silver?”

      “Ten pence!” cried Paddington.

      A hush fell over the room. “Ten pence?” echoed the auctioneer, hardly able to believe his ears. “Did I hear someone say ten pence?”

      “I did,” called Paddington, waving his catalogue in the air. “I want it to keep my marmalade in. Mrs Bird’s always grumbling because my jars get sticky.”

      “Your jars get sticky?” repeated the auctioneer, passing a hand over his forehead. It really was a most unusual day. Things hadn’t gone at all according to plan. Some items had been sold for far more than he had ever expected. Others – like the preserves stand -were