 What isn't something that Harshorne-Logan has?
The Christmas party at the Boston branch of Hartshorne-Logan was threatening to become more legendary than usual this Christmas. One out of every three dirty stories started by party attendees had remained unfinished, because each had reminded someone else of another story. The recently developed liquors which affected the bloodstream three times faster had driven away twinges of conscience about untrimmed trees and midnight church services. So the climax of one tactic did not simply overturn the foreman. "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. 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! "Unless—" he said it loud enough for the employes to scent a great proposal and the room grew quiet—"unless we broke the rules just once and used the time warp on a big mission!" Finally, from an anonymous voice in one corner: "Would the warp work over eighty years? 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 grabbed her daughter's arms, held them above her head and pulled at the dress. The bottom of the carton contained the detective outfit that they had ordered for their son. A neon, demanding, screaming green that clashed horribly with the soft browns and reds in which Ann had furnished the room. The wedding band that Les had put there a dozen years ago was a brilliant green, shedding its soft glow over the finger up to the first knuckle. She opened her mouth to let it out, then put her hand in front of her mouth to keep it in, finally jerked the hand away to prevent the glowing ring from turning her front teeth green. I'll tie a paperweight to Sally's dress and that'll hold her down until we undress her. She put her hands behind her back, pulled off her ring and slipped it into her apron pocket. "Maybe you'd better start a letter to Hartshorne-Logan. She kept her eyes determinedly off the tinge of green that was showing through the apron pocket and didn't dare look back at her daughter's unsettling means of propulsion.
 vacuum cleaner bags
 doorbells  strong liquor  a time machine  vacuum cleaner bags