 Had the portrait of H. H. Hartshorne not been knocked off the wall, what would have likely happened in the story?
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction December 1956. 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. 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. 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. 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. Two-year-old Sally heard the box rattling. She found scissors in her sewing box, tossed a cushion onto the floor, sat on it, and began to open the parcel.
 The package would have never been delivered.
 Milly would have never been born.  Mr. Hawkins would have fired everyone who attended the party.  The partygoers would have remained sober that night.  The package would have never been delivered.