 Why did Hilary pour detergent into the fountain?
"It has the purpose," I told her, "of teaching the members something about commerce and industry. They manufacture simple compositions like polishing waxes and sell them from door-to-door. Some groups have built up tidy little bank accounts which are available for later educational expenses." Marjorie put back her head and laughed, and I was forced to join her, for we both recognize that my understanding and "feel" for commercial matters—if I may use that expression—is almost nonexistent. My job here is only to advise, and I'm going to do that as little as possible. You're going to decide what to do, and if it's safe and legal and possible to do with the starting capital we have, I'll go along with it and help in any way I can. "Well, sure, I suppose we want to," said Hilary. The usual products, of course, with these junior achievement efforts, are chemical specialties that can be made safely and that people will buy and use without misgivings—solvent to free up rusty bolts, cleaner to remove road tar, mechanic's hand soap—that sort of thing. "You should be able to make ball bearings by molding, then densify them by electroplating." "No, they're formulations—you know, mixtures. "Some," said Hilary, "and I've got a home laboratory." Denatured alcohol, glycerine, water, a little color and perfume.
 He didn't, it was Tommy.
 He didn't, it was Mary.  He didn't, it was Tommy.  He didn't, it was Doris.  He didn't, it was Peter.