 What caused Sally to float through the air?
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction December 1956. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. When he slid under the table containing the drinks, Miss Pringle, who sold millinery, had screamed: "He'll drown!" One out of every three dirty stories started by party attendees had remained unfinished, because each had reminded someone else of another story. The recently developed liquors which affected the bloodstream three times faster had driven away twinges of conscience about untrimmed trees and midnight church services. He glided through the air, crashing with a very loud thump against the wall. But the impact knocked the hallowed portrait of H. H. Hartshorne, co-founder, from its nail. It tinkled imposingly as its glass splintered against the floor. "It's all in the spirit of good, clean fun!" cried Mr. Hawkins, the assistant general manager. There was a scurry to shove the broken glass out of sight and to turn more attention to another type of glasses. Mr. Hawkins himself, acting by reflex, attempted to return the portrait to its place until new glass could be obtained. With the proper mixture of respect and bonhommie, he lifted the heavy picture out of its frame. A yellowed envelope slipped to the floor as the picture came free. Hawkins rolled the picture like a scroll and put it into a desk drawer, for later attention. To hear more of it, he said to her: "I'll bet that's been in there ever since the picture was framed. There's a company legend that that picture was put up the day this branch opened, eighty years ago." Here's an order that Hartshorne-Logan never filled! "The poor woman must be dead by now," he objected, secretly angry that he hadn't thought of such a fine party stunt himself. "Unless—" he said it loud enough for the employes to scent a great proposal and the room grew quiet—"unless we broke the rules just once and used the time warp on a big mission!" Finally, from an anonymous voice in one corner: "Would the warp work over eighty years? We were always told that it must be used only for complaints within three days." Mr. Hawkins downed the rest of his drink and pulled a batch of keys from his pocket. But I remember that my grandmother never bought anything from Hartshorne-Logan because of some trouble her mother had once with the firm. Mr. Hawkins put his arm around Milly in a way that he intended to look fatherly.
 The dress that was in the shipment.
 The manky that was in the shipment.  The strange doorbell with no wire.  They eyeball from the detective kit.  The dress that was in the shipment.