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Toby yawned and closed his eyes. The faint breath of cool evening air that blew in through the open window beside him made him feel very sleepy. He would write a couple of lines to Tibb—no, Tubb—after supper. Tell him it’s all right, and——

Toby fell asleep.

Ten minutes later he dreamed that he was falling down innumerable flights of stairs, bounding from one to another with ever increasing momentum. He didn’t seem concerned about the process of falling, but he knew that when he reached the bottom, if he ever did, there would be an awful smash! In case there shouldn’t be enough left of him to groan then, maybe he had better do it now. So he did, quite frightfully. And opened his eyes to find Arnold and Frank tugging at him and laughing.

“Wake up, Toby! It isn’t true!”

“N-no,” agreed Toby doubtfully. “But—I’m glad you stopped me before I got to the bottom!”

“Nightmare?” asked Frank. “I have it sometimes. Get a move on. We’re going to get supper early and beat it over to Greenburg for the first house at the movies.”