The Sneeze in the Lighthouse

Freddie found a feather on the lighthouse stairs. It was a very big feather, as long as his arm, and it was bright orange.

"Oh!" said Freddie. "That is the best feather I have ever seen."

Freddie was the lighthouse keeper's helper. Every evening, he had one job. He climbed to the top room, and he lit the great lamp so the boats could find their way home across the bay.

Tonight he held the feather up to the lamp. It tickled his nose.

Freddie's nose wrinkled. His eyes squeezed shut. "Ah... ah..."

He put his hand over his nose. He pinched it. He held his breath. But the sneeze was coming, and it was a big one.

"AH-CHOOOO!"

It was the loudest sneeze in the whole world. The window rattled. The stairs hummed. And the little flame in the lamp went puff and was gone.

The room was dark. Out on the water, the boats were still coming.

"Oh dear," whispered Freddie. "Light, light, come back."

He struck a match. It went out. He struck another. It went out too. Each time, the sea wind crept in through a crack by the door and blew the flame away.

Freddie stood very still. Then he looked at the feather in his hand. He looked at the crack.

"I know," he said.

He pushed the feather into the crack, tip first, until it fitted snugly. The wind stopped. The room was quiet.

Freddie struck one more match. The flame stood up, small and steady. He lit the lamp, and the light swung out over the bay, round and gold.

Far below, a little horn went toot-toot. Then another.

Freddie sat down on the floor and watched the boats come home. His nose gave a tiny twitch.

"Not now," he whispered to it.

The orange feather stayed in the crack, and the lamp turned, and turned, and turned.