This was the beginning of the seven-day terror in the heretofore obscure neighborhood. Trees disappeared from the parkings; lamp posts were as though they had never been; Wally Waldorf drove home, got out, slammed the door of his car, and there was no car. As George Mullendorf came up the walk to his house his dog Pete ran to meet him and took a flying leap to his arms. The dog left the sidewalk but something happened; the dog was gone and only a bark lingered for a moment in the puzzled air. But the worst were the fire plugs. The second plug was installed the morning after the disappearance of the first. In eight minutes it was gone and the flood waters returned. Another one was in by twelve o'clock. Within three minutes it had vanished. The next morning fire plug number four was installed. The water commissioner was there, the city engineer was there, the chief of police was there with a riot squad, the president of the parent-teachers association was there, the president of the University was there, the mayor was there, three gentlemen of the F.B.I., a newsreel photographer, eminent scientists and a crowd of honest citizens. "Let's see it disappear now," said the city engineer. "Let's see it disappear now," said the police chief. "Let's see it disa--it did, didn't it?" said one of the eminent scientists. And it was gone and everybody was very wet. "At least I have the picture sequence of the year," said the photographer. But his camera and apparatus disappeared from the midst of them. "Shut off the water and cap it," said the commissioner. "And don't put in another plug yet. That was the last plug in the warehouse." "This is too big for me," said the mayor. "I wonder that Tass doesn't have it yet." "Tass has it," said a little round man. "I am Tass." "If all of you gentlemen will come into the Plugged Nickel," said Nokomis, "and try one of our new Fire Hydrant Highballs you will all be happier. These are made of good corn whisky, brown sugar and hydrant water from this very gutter. You can be the first to drink them." Business was phenomenal at the Plugged Nickel, for it was in front of its very doors that the fire plugs disappeared in floods of gushing water. "I know a way we can get rich," said Clarissa several days later to her father, Tom Willoughby. "Everybody says they're going to sell their houses for nothing and move out of the neighborhood. Go get a lot of money and buy them all. Then you can sell them again and get rich." "I wouldn't buy them for a dollar each. Three of them have disappeared already, and all the families but us have their furniture moved out in their front yards. There might be nothing but vacant lots in the morning." "Good, then buy the vacant lots. And you can be ready when the houses come back." "Come back? Are the houses going to come back? Do you know anything about this, young lady?" "I have a suspicion verging on a certainty. As of now I can say no more."