Paddington Helps Out

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.”