 What wasn't strange about the dress purchased?
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!" The recently developed liquors which affected the bloodstream three times faster had driven away twinges of conscience about untrimmed trees and midnight church services. "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. "We'd better put old H. H. away for safekeeping until after the holiday," he told a small, blonde salesclerk who was beneath his attention on any working day. But I remember that my grandmother never bought anything from Hartshorne-Logan because of some trouble her mother had once with the firm. She found scissors in her sewing box, tossed a cushion onto the floor, sat on it, and began to open the parcel. Ann pulled out the dress and shook it into a freely hanging position. It didn't remotely resemble the dress she had admired from the Hartshorne-Logan catalogue illustration. "It's probably the wrong size, too," Ann said, pulling off Sally's dress to try it on. Ann grabbed her daughter's arms, held them above her head and pulled at the dress.
 it spoke to Sally
 it spoke to Sally  it wouldn't come off  it made Sally levitate  it changed colors