I had gone to visit my father for a few days at the Gay Street House. I was now sitting in one of the rooms which my father used for offices on the first floor, talking with my father's old friend, Roach. Many years before, Roach had rented out one of the rooms for an office of his own, and during that time I had become well acquainted with him. I was happy to see him again and to be able to talk with him.

I brought up the subject of Pitts (who had been my father's secretary during the time when Roach had occupied the office in the House). My father and Pitts had later parted company somewhat acrimoniously. Thus I had been surprised to discover Pitts now working again for my father; I asked Roach if he knew anything about it, but he didn't.

Roach was only visiting town and was lodging at a hotel. I told him there was no need for that, that he could use one of the upstairs bedrooms. But he seemed disinclined to do so, and he preferred to stay at the hotel.

I walked around the office area, all of the rooms of which seemed empty. In the large back room I found a huge dark tree growing in the middle of the room. Strangely, one of the heavy branches had fallen from the tree and had landed on the ground so it was sticking straight up, like a tree itself. As I moved close to the branch, it suddenly fell down onto the floor of the room. I was startled, thinking the branch had been left standing on purpose, and that I had somehow disturbed it, causing it to fall. I hurried out of the room, back to the front office.

An oriental man with a troop of 20-30 small boys had entered the office. I had no idea what they were doing there, but I watched with interest as they all headed back to the room where the tree was growing. As they walked around the room, I noticed that the carpet on the floor was quite wet, and that some of the boys were even sinking into the carpet. One boy sank all the way to his waist into the swamp-like water. The whole room seemed swampy and finally the boys began walking on the branch which I had knocked down on the floor, to keep from sinking in the water. They made their way back out of the room, and as mysteriously as they had arrived, they departed.

I, meanwhile, had begun to realize I wasn't actually in the Gay Street House, but in a house which I owned and which looked identical to the Gay Street House. This house wasn't in Portsmouth, but somewhere in northern Ohio, where I now lived. What had happened to the old Gay Street House? I knew my father had moved out of it, but I thought he still owned it. It seemed to be a pattern in our family to keep houses, even though we no longer used them. But then I remembered that my father had sold the Gay Street House. I had previously thought I might again live in the House someday, but now the House was gone forever.

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