Paddington's Finest Hour

Mr. Curry glared at him. “If you must know,” he said, “I’m having trouble with my legs. They weren’t too good in the first place, but with all the wet weather we’ve been having the ground is as rough as can be, so I’m cutting bits off to even things up.”
Paddington nearly fell off the chair in a state of shock at the news. He stared at the Browns’ neighbor. “You’ve been cutting bits off your legs?” he said. “No wonder you’ve been making funny noises.”
“What do you mean, bear?” barked Mr. Curry.
“Well,” said Paddington. “It must be very painful cutting bits off them. Mind you, Mrs. Bird will be pleased. She often says you are too tall for your own good; always looking over the top of our fence to see what’s going on. I expect you could borrow her First Aid box.”

“Bah!” growled Mr. Curry. “I’ll give her First Aid.”
“I don’t think she needs any at the moment,” said Paddington. “She was all right the last time I saw her.”

“I’m glad I didn’t cast any clouts, Mrs. Bird,” he called as the top toggle slipped into place at long last and he set off down the garden path.

There is an old saying, but a very true one: ‘Ne’er cast a clout till May be out.’ That means you shouldn’t take the warm weather for granted. No matter what your robin redbreast has to say, it’s still only the beginning of April, so it may not last.”

“If you ask me,” said the first policeman, when the fuss died down. “It’s a case of even-stevens. Bob’s your uncle, Mr. Brown!”
“I didn’t know you had an Uncle Bob, Mr. Brown,” said Paddington, as he struggled with the catch on the umbrella. “Is he coming to stay? I’ll be as quick as I can.”
“Shh!” hissed Judy. “He hasn’t. And no one is coming to stay.”

“Ah!” The policeman licked the business end of his pencil. “Traveling without a spare wheel? Oh, dear me, sir!”
“It so happens I’m not traveling anywhere,” said Mr. Brown.

nd get my new jacket sopping wet,” said Mr. Brown. “I should cocoa!”
From his position in the back of the car Paddington caught the word “cocoa” and pricked up his ears.
“I didn’t know we were having a picnic, Mr. Brown,” he called excitedly. “I’ve never had a picnic in a car before. It’s a good job I put a fresh marmalade sandwich under my hat before we came out.”
“Shh!” hissed Judy. “We’re not having a picnic now. You heard what Dad said. We’re marooned and it’s all a fault of the weather. Nobody is to blame.

“I don’t remember it being quite so bad for a long time,” she said. “It’s still raining cats and dogs.”
Paddington peered over her shoulder. Although he couldn’t see any actual cats, or any stray dogs for that matter, he caught the general drift of the conversation and given the raindrops were literally bouncing off the pavement ahead of them like things possessed, he put two and two together and made five.
“I expect it would be worse in Darkest Peru, Mrs. Brown,” he said. “They don’t have any pavements there, but it might even rain cats and bears.”