 How long had the branch of Hartshorne-Logan been opened?
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!" But the impact knocked the hallowed portrait of H. H. Hartshorne, co-founder, from its nail. "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. 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! Finally, from an anonymous voice in one corner: "Would the warp work over eighty years? 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. She found scissors in her sewing box, tossed a cushion onto the floor, sat on it, and began to open the parcel. The twine sprang away from the carton as if it were alive. Instead, she tossed the wrappings aside and removed the lid from the carton.
 Eighty years
 Eighty years  Eight years  Twenty years  Two years