Toffee leaned back against the tree and passed a slender hand through her red hair. As her arm relaxed, she let it fall carelessly about Marc's neck. Lazily, her green eyes traced his profile and found it, if not classic, highly satisfactory.

"Kiss me," she said.

"Oh, for Pete's sake," murmured Marc, continuing to stare straight ahead.

Toffee followed his gaze to the scene before them. The entire countryside, apparently unaware of its inherent stateliness, was caught in a sort of informal gaiety.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Toffee asked.

"Yes," replied Marc dreamily.

"You seem fascinated by beauty, almost starved for it."

Marc nodded and leaned his head back further on the tree.

"Then get fascinated, you dope," Toffee leaned forward to face him.

"Huh?" Marc stared at the girl as though he hadn't been quite aware of her before.

"I'm beautiful too and twice as much fun." It was a simple statement of fact. "Kiss me," she added.

"Haven't you any restraint?"

"With everything else I have, you ask for restraint!" Toffee drew nearer.

"You're shameless," said Marc.

"Naturally." Toffee closed her eyes and advanced her lips to his. Abruptly, Marc threw his hands to the grass before him and boosted himself to his feet, leaving Toffee's arm to fall dejectedly to her side.

"Maybe next time," she murmured, shrugging her shoulders. "Even the glacial age had to come to an end eventually."

Marc caught hold of a limb just over his head and swung effortlessly to a branch above Toffee, where he settled himself comfortably and continued his studied contemplation of the landscape. Toffee reached a hand toward him and waited.

"Well, don't just sit there like a stone image," she called. "Give me a hand. I want up too."

Slowly, Marc looked down at her and studied the pert, upturned face with solemn gravity. Suddenly, he shook his head and returned to his attitude of somber speculation. Toffee seemed not at all daunted.

"I'll show you," she yelled. "I'll shake you out of there like a cocoanut." With that, she took hold of the tree and began to tug at it vehemently until, slowly it began to sway. As though she had pulled a bell chord, a soft, distinct tolling began to make itself heard, and as the tree swayed more violently, the sound became louder. Soon the motion of the tree became so great that Marc found himself clutching the branch to keep his balance.

"For the love of Mike, Toffee!" he yelled through the uproar of the bell. "Stop it! Do you want me to break my neck?"

"But I'm not doing it!" hollered Toffee. It seemed that the tree had become possessed of a will of its own as it rocked back and forth in a constantly increasing arc. Toffee stood back from it in terror. As it made a new, deeper lunge, Marc lost his seat but continued to cling to the branch with his hands. At the end of the arc, the tree seemed to pause in anticipation of a final gigantic thrust. As it did so, the clap of the bell was almost intolerable. Suddenly, Marc felt himself lifted and hurled swiftly into space. He seemed to be flying upward and away from the earth, as though the force of gravity had utterly forsaken him.

As he sailed along, he looked back over his shoulder to behold a scene that was especially disconcerting. All the earth below him seemed to be caught in the swaying motion of the tree. It rocked crazily in a see-saw motion, constantly accompanied by the tolling of the great, ghostly bell. Then, suddenly, the action stopped. The earth shuddered and seemed to crumble, falling into space. Through the ensuing quiet, Marc could only wonder at what had happened; then, faintly, through the sound of rushing air, he began to hear his name being called. He turned his head quickly to see Toffee rushing through space after him.

"Wait Marc, Wait!" she cried.

He reached a hand out, toward her.

Marc's hand fell heavily to the alarm clock on the bedside table and the noise ceased. The fact that he was awake didn't mean that he was rested. He rolled over in the bed without opening his eyes, and began carefully to review the dream, for it had left him strangely uneasy. The thing that disturbed him most was the girl, Toffee. As he thought of her, she became more and more vivid, more and more insistent as a real personality. It was strange how real she did seem, especially since she had been so unlike any girl that Marc had ever known. It wasn't that he wouldn't have liked to have known a girl like that, it was just that he had been so occupied with the development of the Pillsworth Advertising Agency that he rarely had time for girls like, or unlike, Toffee. The dream had brought to him a vague suspicion that perhaps something was missing in his life, something like Toffee for instance. There was Julie Mason of course, Marc's secretary, but although she was an even match for any model that had ever been in the office, Julie was still a very efficient business woman, and for some reason that cancelled irrevocably any idea of romance. He sat up in bed and stretched his arms up, over his head, yawning luxuriously. Suddenly, he became transfixed, his arms rigid above him and his mouth wide open. He stared in fascination at the foot of the bed.

Toffee turned and smiled wickedly.

"I almost didn't make it," she said. "Thanks for the lift."

Marc's lips worked feverishly but produced nothing intelligible.

"Well, don't just sit there making faces, tell me how glad you are to see me--and put your arms down."

Slowly and mechanically, Marc lowered his arms.

"Now," Toffee continued. "Let's not waste time--kiss me." She raised herself from the edge of the bed and moved toward him.

Instantly, Marc became animated, leaping from the bed like a flushed bird. He rushed to the window and seemed about to jump, when, suddenly he halted. Slowly, he turned and faced her.

"I've gone mad," he muttered. "I'm nuts!"

Toffee remained by the bed in a state of acute bewilderment. This wasn't precisely the reaction that she had expected.

"We're not going through all that again?" Her voice expressed utter disappointment.

"Get out!" yelled Marc. "Get out of here you-you-you figment!"

"But Marc, don't you know me? I'm Toffee, your dream girl."

"Go get yourself into a dream then," yelled Marc. "I'm awake."

"Oh, I see what's troubling you." A bright smile lighted Toffee's face. "Now, just come over here and sit down while I explain everything." She extended a hand to him and, fascinated, Marc moved toward her and sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed.

"That's nice," cooed Toffee. "Now just stop being so jumpy and I'll tell you all about it. In the first place, you dreamed me up. All I am I owe to you and, judging by the mirror, I'd say that was plenty. Up until now, I've existed only in your subconscious, but last night, while you were dreaming, you released me, gave me physical dimensions and a personality. Now, that works both ways; it was the first chance I'd had to see you too. Well, it seemed that you were a nice enough guy, but a little mixed up about a lot of important things, so I decided to materialize myself and help you out. And let me tell you, that materializing stuff is no easy proposition."

Marc's eyes filled with wonder.

"You mean to tell me you're really here--in the flesh, I mean?"

Toffee slowly crossed one lovely leg over the other. "What do you think?" she asked.

"Well, you'll have to go back," Marc yelled, jumping up. "It's very nice of you to want to help out and all, but I can take care of things for myself. Thank you very much. Now, goodbye." He stood back from her as though expecting an explosion, but nothing happened.

"Well, you heard me. Goodbye, fade--dematerialize--do your stuff!" Toffee smiled mysteriously and shook her head.

"Sorry boss, I can't do it. The only way for me to disappear is for you to go to sleep, then I have to return, but when you wake up, I'll be right back. Once you get it started, it works automatically. Of course there is one way to get rid of me for good but we won't go into that, not just yet anyway. And while we're on the subject, I may as well tell you--I'm pretty sick of that subconscious of yours. A girl could certainly ask for better company. I've never seen so many stuffy ideas. All that will be changed of course."

Marc shuddered as Toffee sat back with a satisfied smile.

"You're completely unprincipled," he groaned.

"You'd better not start criticizing. Like the man says, you made me what I am today and you'd bloody well better be satisfied." Toffee was interrupted by a timid knock on the door.

"Good grief!" cried Marc. "That's Joseph. Do something!"

Toffee knew exactly what to do. She ran quickly to the mirror, and after several pats at her hair, turned, in a seductive pose to face the door. It was then that Marc noticed her costume, a light, transparent affair that seemed but half inclined to stay in place. The tableau that she presented was effective, but extremely alarming under the circumstances.

"What do you think you're doing," hissed Marc.

"I like to look my best when gentlemen are calling," giggled Toffee.

Frantically, Marc rushed and grabbed a sheet, then rushed to Toffee with some idea of concealing her. Of course Toffee was of no mind to have her obvious charms hidden, and a wild struggled ensued.

Slowly, the door open and an aged head appeared in the opening. Large watery eyes fell on the disturbing scene and became even larger. Instantly, the head disappeared and the door slammed to.

"There, now see what you've done," yelled Marc.

Toffee threw the sheet disdainfully aside.

"And what do you expect a lady to do when she's attacked?"

"Attacked!" Marc screamed indignantly.

"Just because another man comes into the room is no reason for you to go showing off like a juvenile delinquent."

Marc snorted with helpless rage. "I was trying to cover you up!"

"Oh," murmured Toffee with obvious disappointment.

"Joseph is one of the best valets in the business, but also one of the most moral," explained Marc. "I've had to be a regular saint to keep him, and now you-! He'll quit me like a flash."

"You'll be better off without him," said Toffee with conviction. "You see! I'm beginning to help you already."

Marc tossed a dressing gown to Toffee with instructions to put it on and wait for him in the sitting room. He dressed quickly and joined her there with deep misgivings as Toffee looked up brightly from the divan.

"This is a pretty swank apartment, Marc. You must be rich."

"Never mind that, we've got to do something about you," he said, seating himself beside her.

"I'm just loaded with suggestions," said Toffee archly.

"You're just loaded," growled Marc. "You can't stay here and I can't turn you loose in that get-up." He indicated her brief costume.

"You could buy me some clothes," suggested Toffee.

Silently, Joseph shuffled into the room, halted just behind them and fixed his eyes firmly on the ceiling. He cleared his throat with a bark that would have done Lassie all kinds of credit. Marc started from his seat as though he had been kicked.

"Breakfast," announced Joseph in a voice that made it sound like a direct accusation.