"For the love of Mike, Toffee!" he yelled through the uproar of the bell. "Stop it! Do you want me to break my neck?" "But I'm not doing it!" hollered Toffee. It seemed that the tree had become possessed of a will of its own as it rocked back and forth in a constantly increasing arc. Toffee stood back from it in terror. As it made a new, deeper lunge, Marc lost his seat but continued to cling to the branch with his hands. At the end of the arc, the tree seemed to pause in anticipation of a final gigantic thrust. As it did so, the clap of the bell was almost intolerable. Suddenly, Marc felt himself lifted and hurled swiftly into space. He seemed to be flying upward and away from the earth, as though the force of gravity had utterly forsaken him. As he sailed along, he looked back over his shoulder to behold a scene that was especially disconcerting. All the earth below him seemed to be caught in the swaying motion of the tree. It rocked crazily in a see-saw motion, constantly accompanied by the tolling of the great, ghostly bell. Then, suddenly, the action stopped. The earth shuddered and seemed to crumble, falling into space. Through the ensuing quiet, Marc could only wonder at what had happened; then, faintly, through the sound of rushing air, he began to hear his name being called. He turned his head quickly to see Toffee rushing through space after him. "Wait Marc. Wait!" she cried. He reached a hand out, toward her. * * * * * Marc's hand fell heavily to the alarm clock on the bedside table and the noise ceased. The fact that he was awake didn't mean that he was rested. He rolled over in the bed without opening his eyes, and began carefully to review the dream, for it had left him strangely uneasy. The thing that disturbed him most was the girl, Toffee. As he thought of her, she became more and more vivid, more and more insistent as a real personality. It was strange how real she did seem, especially since she had been so unlike any girl that Marc had ever known. It wasn't that he wouldn't have liked to have known a girl like that, it was just that he had been so occupied with the development of the Pillsworth Advertising Agency that he rarely had time for girls like, or unlike, Toffee. The dream had brought to him a vague suspicion that perhaps something was missing in his life, something like Toffee for instance. There was Julie Mason of course, Marc's secretary, but although she was an even match for any model that had ever been in the office, Julie was still a very efficient business woman, and for some reason that cancelled irrevocably any idea of romance. He sat up in bed and stretched his arms up, over his head, yawning luxuriously. Suddenly, he became transfixed, his arms rigid above him and his mouth wide open. He stared in fascination at the foot of the bed. Toffee turned and smiled wickedly. "I almost didn't make it," she said. "Thanks for the lift."