"Then," said the doctor confidently, "there is only one thing to do. We shall go to your apartment and see." He rose from his chair. "Good enough," replied Thompson. * * * * * "Now," said Thompson, "we will see if they've gone." He opened the door and peered into the room. He shuddered and entered the apartment; the doctor followed and closed the door. "Are they here?" inquired the doctor, glancing about the room. Thompson nodded and pointed. "Sitting on the beam of the spotlight." "Ah yes." The doctor gazed uncomfortably at the spotlight and gave a sigh. He pushed Thompson over to the bed. "Lie down," he said. "Do you have a medicine cabinet?" "In the bathroom, Doc." Thompson pointed. The doctor nodded and went into the bathroom and opened the cabinet. He took out a bottle of antihistamine tablets and shook three into his hand. He drew a glass of water and walked back to Thompson's bedside. "Sit up," he said. "Here, take these." Thompson downed the pills and took a swallow of water. The doctor set the glass on the bedside table and went over and turned off the spotlight. "Now," muttered the doctor. He turned on the lamp beside the bed and wrapped a green shirt around the bulb, tying the sleeves together at the top. He turned the lamp on Thompson's face. "You say the little men give you ideas for stories. Eh?" Thompson shut his eyes and nodded. "On the desk. See?" "Oh!" The doctor exhaled. "You write the stories down?" "Naturally. They're great." The doctor walked around to the desk, picked up one of the manuscripts. He whistled softly. "Just relax," he said, turning to Thompson. "I'm going to read these over." "Sure, doc." Thompson stretched out comfortably on the bed. * * * * * An hour later the doctor was finishing the last story and humming softly to himself. He laid down the manuscript and fluttered his fingers airily. His face was a mask. "Now, Thompson," he said. "Look around the room. Are the little green men still here?" Thompson opened his eyes and gazed about the room. "Yep," he said finally. "Over there in the corner, up by the ceiling." The doctor didn't even look. He took off his spectacles and inserted them carefully in his coat pocket. Then he fished a quarter from his hip pocket and held it up between two fingers. "Thompson," he said softly. "Look." Thompson looked. The quarter spun. The lamp above his face cast a soft green light. "The little green men aren't there, Thompson." "Yes, they are," remarked Thompson petulantly. "No, they're not," soothed the doctor. "Yes." "No," said the doctor firmly. "No?" inquired Thompson sleepily. "No. "You imagined them," breathed the doctor. "They aren't there. Not there at all. Can you hear me, Thompson?" "Yes."