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decorating the edges with holly and mistletoe; others had been made out of pictures cut from Mrs Brown’s magazines. But each one had the words A MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR printed on the front, and they were signed PADINGTUN BROWN on the inside – together with his special paw mark to show that they were genuine.

      Paddington wasn’t sure about the spelling of A MERRY CHRISTMAS. It didn’t look at all right. But Mrs Bird checked all the words in a dictionary for him to make certain.

      “I don’t suppose many people get Christmas cards from a bear,” she explained. “They’ll probably want to keep them, so you ought to make sure they are right.”

      One evening Mr Brown arrived home with a huge Christmas tree tied to the roof of his car. It was placed in a position of honour by the dining-room window and both Paddington and Mr Brown spent a long time decorating it with coloured electric lights and silver tinsel.

      Apart from the Christmas tree, there were paper chains and holly to be put up, and large coloured bells made of crinkly paper. Paddington enjoyed doing the paper chains. He managed to persuade Mr Brown that bears were very good at putting up decorations and together they did most of the house, with Paddington standing on Mr Brown’s shoulders while Mr Brown handed up the drawing pins. It came to an unhappy end one evening when Paddington accidentally put his paw on a drawing pin which he’d left on top of Mr Brown’s head. When Mrs Bird rushed into the dining-room to see what all the fuss was about, and to inquire why all the lights had suddenly gone out, she found Paddington hanging by his paws from the chandelier and Mr Brown dancing around the room rubbing his head.

      But by then the decorations were almost finished and the house had taken on quite a festive air. The sideboard was groaning under the weight of nuts and oranges, dates and figs, none of which Paddington was allowed to touch, and Mr Brown had stopped smoking his pipe and was filling the air instead with the smell of cigars.

      The excitement in the Browns’ house mounted, until it reached fever pitch a few days before Christmas, when Jonathan and Judy arrived home for the holidays.

      But if the days leading up to Christmas were busy and exciting, they were nothing compared with Christmas Day itself.

      The Browns were up early on Christmas morning – much earlier than they had intended. It all started when Paddington woke to find a large pillow-case at the bottom of his bed. His eyes nearly popped out with astonishment when he switched his torch on, for it was bulging with parcels, and it certainly hadn’t been there when he’d gone to bed on Christmas Eve.

      Paddington’s eyes grew larger and larger as he unwrapped the brightly coloured paper round each present. A few days before, on Mrs Bird’s instructions, he had made a list of all the things he hoped to have given him and had hidden it up one of the chimneys. It was a strange thing, but everything on that list seemed to be in the pillow-case.

      There was a large chemistry outfit from Mr Brown, full of jars and bottles and test tubes, which looked very interesting. And there was a miniature xylophone from Mrs Brown, which pleased him no end. Paddington was fond of music – especially the loud sort, which was good for conducting – and he had always wanted something he could actually play.

      Mrs Bird’s parcel was even more exciting, for it contained a checked cap which he’d specially asked for and had underlined on his list. Paddington stood on the end of his bed, admiring the effect in the mirror for quite a while.

      Jonathan and Judy had each given him a travel book. Paddington was very interested in geography, being a much-travelled bear, and he was pleased to see there were plenty of maps and coloured pictures inside.

      The noise from Paddington’s room was soon sufficient to wake both Jonathan and Judy, and in no time at all the whole house was in an uproar, with wrapping paper and bits of string everywhere.

      “I’m as patriotic as the next man,” grumbled Mr Brown. “But I draw the line when bears start playing the National Anthem at six o’clock in the morning – especially on a xylophone.”

      As always, it was left to Mrs Bird to restore order. “No more presents until after lunch,” she said firmly. She had just tripped over Paddington on the upstairs landing, where he was investigating his new chemical outfit, and something nasty had gone in one of her slippers.

      “It’s all right, Mrs Bird,” said Paddington, consulting his instruction book, “it’s only some iron filings. I don’t think they’re dangerous.”

      “Dangerous or not,” said Mrs Bird, “I’ve a big dinner to cook – not to mention your birthday cake to finish decorating.”

      Being a bear, Paddington had two birthdays each year – one in the summer and one at Christmas – and the Browns were holding a party in his honour to which Mr Gruber had been invited.

      After they’d had breakfast and been to church, the morning passed quickly and Paddington spent most of his time trying to decide what to do next. With so many things from which to choose it was most difficult. He read some chapters from his books and made several interesting smells and a small explosion with his chemical outfit.

      Mr Brown was already in trouble for having given it to him, especially when Paddington found a chapter in the instruction book headed ‘Indoor Fireworks’. He made himself a ‘never ending’ snake which wouldn’t stop growing and frightened Mrs Bird to death when she met it coming down the stairs.

      “If we don’t watch out,” she confided to Mrs Brown, “we shan’t last over Christmas. We shall either be blown to smithereens or poisoned. He was testing my gravy with some litmus paper just now.”

      Mrs Brown sighed. “It’s a good job Christmas only comes once a year,” she said as she helped Mrs Bird with the potatoes.

      “It isn’t over yet,” warned Mrs Bird.

      Fortunately, Mr Gruber arrived at that moment and some measure of order was established before they all sat down to dinner.

      Paddington’s eyes glistened as he surveyed the table. He didn’t agree with Mr Brown when he said it all looked too good to eat. All the same, even Paddington got noticeably slower towards the end when Mrs Bird brought in the Christmas pudding.

      “Well,” said Mr Gruber, a few minutes later, as he sat back and surveyed his empty plate, “I must say that’s the best Christmas dinner I’ve had for many a day. Thank you very much indeed!”

      “Hear! Hear!” agreed Mr Brown. “What do you say, Paddington?”

      “It was very nice,” said Paddington, licking some cream from his whiskers. “Except I had a bone in my Christmas pudding.”

      “You what?” exclaimed Mrs Brown. “Don’t be silly – there are no bones in Christmas pudding.”

      “I had one,” said Paddington, firmly. “It was all hard – and it stuck in my throat.”

      “Good gracious!” exclaimed Mrs Bird. “The five pence! I always put a piece of silver in the Christmas pudding.”

      “What!” said Paddington, nearly falling off his chair. “A five pence? I’ve never heard of a five pence pudding before.”

      “Quick,” shouted Mr Brown, rising to the emergency. “Turn him upside down.”

      Before Paddington could reply, he found himself hanging head downwards while Mr Brown and Mr Gruber took it in turns to shake him. The rest of the family stood round watching the floor.

      “It’s no good,” said Mr Brown, after a while. “It must have gone too far.” He helped Mr Gruber lift Paddington into an armchair, where he lay gasping for breath.

      “I’ve got a magnet upstairs,” said Jonathan. “We could try lowering it down his throat on a piece of string.”

      “I don’t think so, dear,” said Mrs Brown, in a worried tone of voice. “He might swallow that and then we should be even worse off.” She bent over the chair. “How do you feel, Paddington?”

      “Sick,”

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