"Les, I think we've made poor Mrs. Burnett angry," Ann said. "She's so upset over her poor husband's health and she thinks we're insulting her." Les didn't hear her. He strode to the detective set, followed at a safe distance by the eyeball, and picked up the box. "Hey, watch out!" Bob cried. A small flashlight fell from the box, landed on its side and its bulb flashed on, throwing a pencil of light across Les's hands. * * * * * Bob retrieved the flashlight and turned it off while Les glanced through an instruction booklet, frowning. "This toy is too complicated for a ten-year-old boy," Les told his wife. "I don't know why you ordered such a thing." He tossed the booklet into the empty box. "I'm going to return it, if you don't smudge it up," she replied. "Look at the marks you made on the instructions." The black finger-marks stood out clearly against the shiny, coated paper. Les looked at his hands. "I didn't do it," he said, pressing his clean fingertips against the kitchen table. Black fingerprints, a full set of them, stood out against the sparkling polished table's surface. "I think the Detectolite did it," Bob said. "The instructions say you've got to be very careful with it, because its effects last for a long time." Les began scrubbing his hands vigorously at the sink. Ann watched him silently, until she saw his fingerprints appear on the faucet, the soap and the towel. She began to yell at him for making such a mess, when Sally floated into the kitchen. The girl was wearing a nightgown. "My God!" Ann forgot her tongue before the children. "She got out of that dress herself. Where did she get that nightgown?" Ann fingered the garment. She didn't recognize it as a nightgown. But in cut and fold, it was suspiciously like the dress that had arrived in the parcel. Her heart sank. She picked up the child, felt the hot forehead, and said: "Les, I think it's the same dress. It must change color or something when it's time for a nap. It seems impossible, but--" She shrugged mutely. "And I think Sally's running a temperature. I'm going to put her to bed." She looked worriedly into the reddened eyes of the small girl, who whimpered on the way to the bedroom. Ann carried her up the stairs, keeping her balance with difficulty, as Sally threatened to pop upward out of her arms. The whole family decided that bed might be a good idea, soon after dinner. When the lights went out, the house seemed to be nearly normal. Les put on a pair of gloves and threw a pillowcase over the eyeball. Bob rigged up trestles to warn visitors from the front porch. Ann put small wads of cotton into her ears, because she didn't like the rhythmic rattle, soft but persistent, that emerged from the hall closet where the manky sat. Sally was whining occasionally in her sleep. * * * * *