Pinguin and Teddy’s Lantern Trail

One day, Pinguin sat on the patio and drank coffee.

The evening sky was turning soft blue, and the little houses along the lane were beginning to glow at their windows. Pinguin held his warm cup in both flippers and looked toward the market road. Soon the neighbors would be coming home with baskets of apples, bread, beans, and flowers.

Then he blinked.

The usual path lights along the lane were dark. Not one of them was glowing by the fences or the front gardens. The road itself was still familiar, but the corners would be dim, and the turns near the hedges would be hard to see.

Pinguin sat up straight. “If the path lights are out,” he said, “we can make a lantern trail!”

His cup went onto the patio table with a tiny clink. In a flash he was off the chair, through his gate, and hurrying to Teddy’s house next door.

At Teddy’s front door, Pinguin reached up and rang the bell.

“ding-dong-ding-dong-ding-dong-ding-dong-diiiiiing-doong”

Inside, there was the sound of steady footsteps. The door opened, and Teddy, the kind brown bear, peered out with a friendly smile.

“Pinguin, is that you?”

“Yes!” said Pinguin, a little out of breath. “The market lane lights are out. Everyone will be home soon, and the path will be dim. We should make a cheerful lantern trail from the market road all the way to the houses.”

Teddy’s round ears perked up. “That is an excellent idea,” he said at once. “Come into the garage. We have just what we need.”

Teddy’s garage was tidy in the way only a hardworking bear could make it tidy. Shelves held jars, hooks, clips, boxes of string, folded cloths, spare batteries, lanterns with little handles, and neat rows of tools. Beyond it, the workshop shed stood with its door open, smelling faintly of wood, paint, and warm sawdust.

Teddy took down two metal lanterns, then three more. “We’ll mark the turns first,” he said. “Then the straight parts of the lane.”

Pinguin was already bustling happily from shelf to shelf. “Jars! Battery lights! More jars! A bundle of string! Oh, and these little clips!” He stacked two jars, then three, then tucked a bundle of string under one flipper and balanced a box of tiny lamps on top.

He waddled two quick steps.

A jar slid. The string slipped. The little box tipped sideways.

Pinguin froze, wide-eyed.

Teddy calmly rolled over a little handcart. “For eager helpers,” he said, “there is a perfect invention.”