“It’s a bad flying Gremlin.” Patsy danced up and down in her excitement.
“A seagull,” said the more practical grandfather.
The speaker picked up their voices. Betty heard them.
“It’s not like a gull’s flight,” she said. “I’ve heard them too often. This is something else.”
“See!” Patsy danced again. “I told you. It’s a Gremlin! A bad, bad Gremlin.” Then, “Oh!” She covered her eyes. “I don’t want to see him. He may come real close.”
“We’ll put the spotlight on him,” said Grandfather, taking up a portable spotlight and adjusting a switch.
“He’s coming right this way,” said Betty. “He should pass over us.”
“I’ll be ready with the light,” said Grandfather. “You tell me when.”
In the dim light Patsy’s face was a strange study, alternating curiosity and fear. Curiosity at last won the day. When at last the searchlight cut across the sky, she was watching, big-eyed and eager.
For ten seconds the light played across an empty sky and then: