It was as though the ceiling had suddenly come crashing down around his head. For a moment he was numb all over. Then he could feel himself sinking toward the floor, but he wasn't falling. The sensation was alarmingly strange and disagreeable. "What the devil's...!" He stopped again; his voice was echoing back to him in an unfamiliar falsetto. The words were his but the voice definitely was not. He started back in alarm, tripped over something and sat down heavily on the floor. It was then that he glanced up and saw Toffee. For a moment he was certain he was losing his mind. Instead of the well-curved, half-clad redhead he had last seen, he was now confronted by a chunky little moppet of about eight. Her heretofore inadequate tunic now covered her completely, part of it even trailing on the floor. He opened his mouth to speak but gave it up as Toffee expressed his emotions for him with a shrill scream of dismay. Apparently unmindful of her sudden transformation, however, she was staring at him with horror. "You've shrunk!" she cried. "You've ... you've shriveled!" Her voice, also, had moved up an octave or so. * * * * * Marc quickly turned his attention to his own person and found to his complete stupefaction that Toffee spoke the truth. Indeed he had shrunk like a ten-dollar suit in a cloudburst. What he had tripped over had been his own trouser legs, the spare yardage of which was wadded loosely about his ankles. "Those pills!" he yelped. "Good grief! They've not only stopped my age, they've backed it up!" Toffee giggled a little hysterically. "You look so funny!" she tittered. "Your ears are so big. And ... and you've got freckles!" Marc winced; it was probably all too true. As a youngster he had been plagued with these disfigurements and he had been very sensitive about them. After all, being called "pitcher ears" and "leopard puss" hadn't been fun. Outgrowing these names had been his own personal triumph. And now all that was cancelled; he was back where he had started. He looked up woundedly. "Look who's laughing," he said. "With that pot belly of yours, you're no glamour item yourself." An expression of utmost horror swept Toffee's face as she ceased to stare at Marc and turned her attention to herself. One quick, shuddering glance told her the story. This time she screamed as though she really meant it. "No!" she shrieked. "No! NOooooh! It isn't _me_! It _isn't_!" She turned on Marc, raging. "You did this! You swallowed those crazy pills!" Irrationally, she held her hand under his mouth. "Spit them out!" she demanded. "Spit them out this instant or I'll rip those revolting ears right off your despicable head!" "Don't be disgusting," Marc said, looking away. "You'll be surprised how disgusting I can really be," Toffee wailed, "if you don't do something about this."