An unearthly glow permeated the bedroom and cast the black shadows of heavy furniture against the faded papered walls. Within the glow, two dots of green flickered. The Reverend Enos Shackelford dropped on creaking knees and bowed his grizzled head. A voice said, "Well done, good and faithful servant. Arise and follow me." "Lord," said Reverend Shackelford, "I have served thee faithfully all the days of my life. Remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom. Remember also--" "Yes. Well done, good and faithful servant. Arise and follow me." Shackelford stood on tottering old legs. His nightshirt hung below his knees. Horrified shock blanched his lined face. "Blasphemer!" he cried. "False prophet! Get thee behind me, Satan!" The glow danced and faded. A towering black shape pointed a bent rod. The rod hissed. The Reverend Shackelford staggered against a small table, dragging it with him to the floor. He lay still with one gnarled old hand on a large golden-edged book that had fallen from the table. * * * * * "You're fired," the man in the dream said over and over. Calvin C. Kear rolled off the half-bed, struck the floor, and awoke. "First time I've fallen out of bed in years," he groaned. His shaking hand fumbled with the switch and succeeded in turning on the lamp. Mrs. Calvin C. Kear sprawled on her back in the other bed and snored. "You and your fifteen-thousand-dollar house," Kear muttered. He combed his thinning hair with his fingers. "You and your sterling silver. You and your chosen pattern. Your service for eight. How far do you think fifty-four dollars a week will go with 12-gauge shells three and a quarter a box?" Green eyes glittered beside the frilly dressing table. The man standing there said, "I'm not igniting you. I'm giving you a bonus for your fine work. Enough currency to pay the loan on this house. You'll be making two hundred per week. This fall, I'll take you hunting at my place in the country." "Boss?" Kear mumbled. "I mean, Mr. Darmond?" "Put on your clothing," the boss said. "I'll show you your new office. You may have a secretary, also. I'm not firing you. I'm giving you a bonus." Kear sat gasping on the floor. "That's great, boss!" he exclaimed. "I thought I did an extra special job on the plastics mill design. It'll mean a lot to the company. We--" "Yes. Dress quickly." Kear threw off his pajamas and started stuffing arms and legs into his clothes. Mrs. Kear opened her eyes and squeaked like a dying rabbit. The bent rod in the boss's hand hissed, and Mrs. Kear stopped squeaking. With tie flapping, shirt unbuttoned, shoes unlaced, Kear followed the boss through the living room and down the flagstone walk to the street. The boss opened the doors of the _Honeychile Bakery_ truck and said, "In here." * * * * *