When I saw that window it looked to me like a joke. My looks evidently indicated that to Larsen. I had never been much of a believer in stunts for window trimming. I had thought it better to have people come into the store and buy something, than just say what a clever window display we had--and walk by. I was standing outside the window, looking at it, when Larsen joined me. "You don't like it, no?" "Well," I said, "it looks to me too--oh, what's the word I want?--oh, you know what I mean--too smart-alecky!" We both laughed. "It isn't dignified enough, you know." [Illustration: "I WAS STANDING OUTSIDE THE WINDOW"] "Say, Boss," said Larsen, and then he couldn't continue on account of a coughing spell. Poor old Larsen. For several weeks he hadn't been feeling right. He had caught a hard cold and wouldn't rest, and it didn't seem to get any better. It had worried me sometimes, because he wasn't as young as he used to be. I suggested to him that he lay off work for a little while, but he wouldn't hear of it. When he had recovered from his coughing spell, he said: "Say, Boss, that book on window trimming. It say trim with one line of goods. All razors, or all scissors, make folks stop. If a lot make 'em stop, just one by itself will. Folks'll come across the road to see what it is." Well, we used the window trim as it was, except that, at the last minute, we changed the sign. "Do you remember that pencil sharpener salesman that came here?" I asked Larsen. "Remember him telling us about that sale of women's hats, where they could get in only by ticket?" "No." "Well, it was a Chicago store. They sold women's hats. On certain days you could get into the store only by ticket, and the store was swamped with people then, because--oh, I don't know why, but they thought that they were favored by getting the ticket. Why not put on the sign that these razors won't be sold until Saturday?" "That's good. But nothing special here-- No new style like in women's hats." "Well," I said, defending my idea, "the drug stores sell regular candy, special on Saturday." "Yep, but they give special price. We ain't cutting it." Then Larsen forgot himself and slapped me on the back, saying: "I got it, Boss. Put this razor on sale Friday and Saturday only, and give a can of shaving powder to each customer!" "Heavens, no! Shaving powder sells for 25 cents." "It costs us only twelve. Razor and soap together don't cost a dollar. We make profit on it, and--and--they buy more powder soon." Well, we did it; we added to the sign: "To every purchaser of a Middle Razor, Friday and Saturday only, will be given a can of Dulcet Shaving Powder." I wanted to put a can of the powder in the window as well, but Larsen was against it; and, as it was his show, I let him have his own way with it. "How many of the razors have we in stock?" I asked. "We got three dozen last week. We ain't broke the package yet." "Oh, that'll be plenty," I said. . . .