Bea Keeps the Ting-a-Ling Bell

"Shhh, shhh, shhh," said the sea. It said it soft, over and over, outside the lighthouse window. Bea was a little hedgehog with soft brown prickles and a nose that wiggled when she was thinking. She lived in a lighthouse on Lighthouse Island, at the top of the curly stairs, with Rosa.

Rosa was a puffin. She kept the light. Every evening she climbed the curly stairs and wiped the big lamp glass, so the beam could shine out slow and gold across the water. Round and round it went. Round and round.

Tonight Rosa's wings were full of a warm, soapy cloth. "Bea," she said, "will you mind my little brass bell while I climb? It's my favorite thing in the whole world. Keep it safe until bedtime." "I will," said Bea.

Rosa set the bell in Bea's paws. It was small and round and warm, like a pebble the sun had been sitting on. "Shhh, shhh, shhh," said the sea. "Ting," said the bell. "I'm keeping you safe," said Bea.

Up the curly stairs went Rosa. Round and round went the light. Bea sat on the round rug and held the bell in both paws. It was a long wait, so she counted the rounds of the light. One. Two. Three. Her prickles wanted to curl up small. Her nose wanted to wiggle. But her paws held the bell.

Down the curly stairs came Rosa. "Bath time, Bea!" she said, and she ran the water warm. Pop! A warm bubble popped on Bea's nose. Pop, pop, pop! Bea set the bell on the soap dish, right where she could see it, and she puffed and she splashed. "Ting," said the bell, when a bubble floated past. "Shhh, shhh, shhh," said the sea. "I'm keeping you safe," said Bea.

Then came the big soft towel and the little soft blanket. Rosa wrapped Bea up and set her on the rug. Bea wanted to curl up small and go sleepy. But she had a bell to keep. So she tucked the bell into the fold of her blanket, right by her tummy, and she held the fold shut. "Ting," said the bell.

Then she saw the moon. It had come to the round window, big and pale and round. Bea wanted to go and say hello. So she carried her blanket, one little step at a time, all the way to the window. The bell came too, warm inside the fold.

"Hello, moon," said Bea. The moon said nothing at all. It just shone. Bea sat down and hugged her cuddly seal. Hug, hug, hug. Then she patted for the bell. Pat, pat, pat. No bell. Her nose wiggled fast. She patted the rug. She patted her blanket. Where was the bell?

Then, small and clear, came a sound. "Ting." It came from inside her blanket, where the bell had rolled up snug as a pea in a pod. Bea found it with her paw and held it close. "Shhh, shhh, shhh," said the sea. "Ting," said the bell. "I found you," said Bea.

Rosa came and sat beside her on the rug. "Bea," she said, "you kept my bell all evening long. Through the bath and the blanket and the moon. Thank you." Bea put the bell in Rosa's wing. "Safe and sound," she said.

Rosa hung the bell on a little hook by Bea's blanket. "It can sleep here tonight," she said, "and in the morning, you can ring it." Bea yawned a big round yawn. "Yawwwn," she said. The light went round and round, soft and gold. Shhh, said the sea. Ting, said the bell, very soft.

Bea's eyes went slow and sleepy. The moon stayed at the window. The bell stayed on its hook. And Bea stayed warm and small under her blanket, with her promise kept and her prickles curled up soft.