Charles Mead smiled faintly and rather smugly and put his finger to the button. The voices stopped yelling as the bell jangled somewhere in the house. A moment later, the front door opened and, at the same time, he heard a woman's high heels stamping through to the back of the house. Then a door slammed. The man in the doorway wore moccasins, jeans and a red plaid shirt. Except for the general sloppiness of his dress compared with the unwrinkled neatness of Charles Mead's expensive gray slacks and sports jacket, the pair could have been twins. Both were slim and tall with the slightly stooped appearance of tall men. Their short, sandy hair and wide blue eyes gave them both a boyish look. "Chuck Mead?" Charles Mead asked. This one was sure to be called Chuck, he thought. The man nodded, frowning slightly. "Good," said Charles. "That's my name, too. May I come in?" He pushed his way past the bewildered Chuck Mead, went into the living room and sat down. * * * * * He began the speech he had prepared. It was the first time he had said it aloud to anyone and, as he talked, he became painfully aware of how foolish it sounded. He knew that Chuck Mead was smiling behind the hand he so casually cupped over his chin and mouth. In the tiny living room with its fading furnishings, its old mahogany piano and the new TV, its old wedding pictures on the newly redecorated walls, talk of other worlds than this was hopelessly out of place. "Look, I'm wasting my time trying to explain," Charles Mead said. "I want you to come with me. Don't ask questions. What I have to show you will save hours of explanation." "What are you going to show me?" Chuck asked. "Just come with me," Charles persisted. He knew it was only a matter of time. The bewildering similarity between them had definitely aroused the other's curiosity. He noticed that although Chuck Mead still smiled, it was an uneasy smile. "Okay," Chuck said. "Anything for a laugh. Where do we go?" "Hobson's Hill. I suppose you call it that in this world, too?" "That's what we call it," Chuck said, suppressing another grin. "In this world." "Let's go, then," Charles urged, relieved that the toughest part was over. "There's nothing to worry about--you'll be completely safe." "Who's worrying?" challenged his counterpart pugnaciously. * * * * * Charles pulled Chuck Mead, fighting and struggling all the way, into his own world and together they stood on Hobson's Hill, overlooking the town. "Scares me silly every time I make that crossing," Charles confessed breathlessly. Chuck's fingers still clutched his arm, digging painfully into the flesh as though he expected the ground to crumble away at any moment.