My son and I were trying to sell the house we had (1)restored but in the (2)barn (3)attached to it there were (4)bats and they wouldn’t leave. The barn was their home. They told us so in their own way. They (5)hung there in the barn and seemed (6)determined to stay for the season.
   If we knocked lightly on the outside, (7)muttering sounds would (8)follow, as if the bats were angry. They seemed to be asking us to stop (9)bothering them and not to (10)replace that (11)pane in the window through which they (12)flew in and out.
   “Don’t worry about it, Dad,” Patrick said. “They keep down the (13)mosquitoes.”
   (14)Unfortunately they also kept the (15)buyers away. When we had asked a person to sell the house for us he had (16)refused to show it because of the bats. In truth, I (17)sympathized. Who would want to share space with the (18)cousins of Dracula?
   “Bats are popular,” Patrick (19)assured me. “They’re (20)ecological.”
   “Isn’t there a machine you can buy that produces (21)high-frequency sounds to keep bats away?”
   “I don’t know,” said Patrick. “But I like bats, and whoever buys this house will (22)probably like them too.”
   “Probably?” I hated that word. “How many bats are there, anyway?”
   “I counted about 90 last night,” said Patrick. “They were dropping out from under the (23)edge of the roof.”
   “You mean there are more － outside?”
   “They’re everywhere, Dad. But look at it this way. When the cold weather comes, they’ll (24)be off to Mexico. Maybe in the spring we can (25)seal (them) out. Don’t worry about it,” he said (26)for the hundredth time. “It’s not a problem.”
   The bat expert I called was even more (27)enthusiastic than Patrick. “I think you’ve got a large number there,” he said (28)in wonder. “I’ve been trying to (29)attract bats to our house for 25 years! A single bat eats up his weight in mosquitoes and (30)black flies three times every night. He flies in and out, eats, (31)digests, and goes out for more. You’re a very lucky man.”
   I (32)offered to (33)share my luck with him. He could (34)take (them) away.
   “Bats have a (35)remarkable homing (36)instinct,” he said. “They’d fly (37)straight back even if I (38)transported them 100 miles. Once they have (39)settled, you can’t stop them from coming back.” I was silent. As if to (40)reassure me, he continued, “You may have one of the few groups of bats left around here. They’re in (41)danger of dying out.” Once more he said, “You’re a lucky man.”
   I was not sure whether to (42)take pride in my good (43)fortune. If a possible buyer, noticing the barn floor dirty with bat (44)droppings, said, “Oh, I see you have (45)mice,” I would just smile and (46)nod my head. I might have said, “(47)Actually, those are from the bats. We’re lucky, you know. We’ve got a large group of bats. Right here. Thousands of them. More every year, and they keep coming back. They are (48)of great value. Each one eats about a thousand (49)insects a night. I’ll show you some. The babies are really cute.” I might have said all that, but who would be listening?
   Finally we managed to (50)rent the house to a young family, who were also interested in buying it.
   “(51)What about the bats?” I said to Patrick.
   “Oh, they love the bats,” he said. “No mosquitoes. No black flies. It’s one of the things that attracted them.”
   “Do you think they will really buy the house?”
   “Probably.”
   “Probably? Well, if they do, I suppose I’ll have to (52)admit that I was wrong.”
   “You mean you’re going to (53)eat your words?”
   “Yes, I am.”