 Why did the staff at Hartshorne-Logan have to substitute some of the items in the package?
The Christmas party at the Boston branch of Hartshorne-Logan was threatening to become more legendary than usual this Christmas. 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 janitor foreman weighed fifty pounds less than the Burma gentleman, who was the salesman's customary opponent. "It's all in the spirit of good, clean fun!" cried Mr. Hawkins, the assistant general manager. Mr. Hawkins himself, acting by reflex, attempted to return the portrait to its place until new glass could be obtained. Here's an order that Hartshorne-Logan never filled! 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. The label was addressed in a wandering scrawl, a sharp contrast to the impersonal typing on the customary Hartshorne-Logan bundles. But the familiar RATTLE OK sticker was pasted onto the box, indicating to the delivery man that the contents would make a rattling sound and therefore hadn't been broken in shipment. She found scissors in her sewing box, tossed a cushion onto the floor, sat on it, and began to open the parcel. Instead, she tossed the wrappings aside and removed the lid from the carton.
 They were outdated by many years.
 They were sold out of because of the holiday sales.  They had recalled most of the items because they were dangerous.  They were outdated by many years.  They were too drunk to read the catalog numbers correctly.