“She says she loves you,” Beth laughs. “She hopes you’ll come often. But, oh, is she glad the bad Gremlins didn’t get you that other night!”
“She’s a dear child.” said Norma. “I only wish I were going there to live for a time. But I’m a little afraid that is out.”
“Too bad, I’m sure. Patsy’d love it. You’d have experiences you’d not forget.”
“Looks as if I might have unforgettable experiences anyway,” Norma laughed nervously. She was thinking of the Spanish hairdresser, of Carl Langer, and all the strange surprises that had come to her. “I’ll tell Lieutenant Warren all about it very soon,” she told herself.
Again Patsy was talking. It was an animated and joyous conversation they held with Patsy while Bess stood watch outside.
Then, of a sudden, all was changed. Patsy broke off short in the middle of a sentence. Her tiny hands disappeared and in their stead were larger, older hands.
“Grandfather,” Beth whispered as if afraid he might hear. “And is he excited!”
Soon enough they knew there was reason for excitement. The trembling hands spelled out the words rapidly, one by one:
“Submarine—half mile off shore—Send help!”
Norma sprang for the telephone. Taking down the receiver she tried to speak calmly, distinctly: