l as he had remembered them--all completely unbelievable.

The kitchen was its placid, unexciting self. The electric clock was
purring soberly around the dial. Almost six o'clock, it said. His wife
would be waking at any moment.

Burckhardt flung open the front door and stared out into the quiet
street. The morning paper was tossed carelessly against the steps--and
as he retrieved it, he noticed that this was the 15th day of June.

But that was impossible. _Yesterday_ was the 15th of June. It was not
a date one would forget--it was quarterly tax-return day.

He went back into the hall and picked up the telephone; he dialed for
Weather Information, and got a well-modulated chant: "--and cooler,
some showers. Barometric pressure thirty point zero four, rising ...
United States Weather Bureau forecast for June 15th. Warm and sunny,
with high around--"

He hung the phone up. June 15th.

"Holy heaven!" Burckhardt said prayerfully. Things were very odd
indeed. He heard the ring of his wife's alarm and bounded up the
stairs.

Mary Burckhardt was sitting upright in bed with the terrified,
uncomprehending stare of someone just waking out of a nightmare.

"Oh!" she gasped, as her husband came in the room. "Darling, I just
had the most _terrible_ dream! It was like an explosion and--"

"Again?" Burckhardt asked, not very sympathetically. "Mary,
something's funny! I _knew_ there was something wrong all day
yesterday and--"

He went on to tell her about the copper box that was the cellar, and
the odd mock-up someone had made of his boat. Mary looked astonished,
then alarmed, then placatory and uneasy.

She said, "Dear, are you _sure_? Because I was cleaning that old trunk
out just last week and I didn't notice anything."

"Positive!" said Guy Burckhardt. "I dragged it over to the wall to
step on it to put a new fuse in after we blew the lights out and--"

"After we what?" Mary was looking more than merely alarmed.

"After we blew the lights out. You know, when the switch at the head
of the stairs stuck. I went down to the cellar and--"

Mary sat up in bed. "Guy, the switch didn't stick. I turned out the
lights myself last night."

Burckhardt glared at his wife. "Now I _know_ you didn't! Come here and
take a look!"

He stalked out to the landing and dramatically pointed to the bad
switch, the one that he had unscrewed and left hanging the night
before....

Only it wasn't. It was as it had always been. Unbelievi