By ten thirty Friday morning we had sold every Middle's Razor in stock, and I had telegraphed for six dozen more to come by express. As they were made in this State, they should arrive the first thing in the morning. By Friday night I had orders for sixty-four razors,--and I also had had to telegraph for more shaving powder. Well, up to closing time on Saturday, we had sold a hundred and fifty-nine Middle's razors! We couldn't supply them, of course, although the six dozen we had ordered came in time, so we merely took orders on Friday afternoon and Saturday, and promised to deliver the razors as soon they came. In practically every case, however, we had got the money. Think of it, a hundred and fifty-nine razors in our town. I couldn't understand why so many people bought them. Also, it had been a revelation to me to find how many women had come in for this bargain offer. Two or three people had come on Thursday to buy it, but we wouldn't sell them. That window certainly had attracted a lot of attention, particularly at night. There had been a number of people around it all the time. Poor Larsen collapsed altogether from the strain of the two busy days, and had to place himself under the doctor's care. The next evening I called at the doctor's and he said that Larsen had really a serious illness. "You don't mean," I said, "that there is any chance that he will--" The doctor was silent for a minute, pursed his lips, then said slowly: "I don't know. It would not be a serious thing for a young man, but he is not a young man, and he is poorly nourished." Larsen's absence certainly made Jones and Jimmie and me hustle. In the first place I had to take out that window trim of the Middle's Razor, for, as our sale was over, we did not want to keep the display going. In fact, when I went to see old Larsen, sick as he was, his first weak remark had been, "You took the trim out, Boss?" I told him yes, and added that we had a fine display of enamelware in its place. Mrs. Larsen told me that he had been worrying all day. He seemed a bit easier when I left. The whole week was a week of trouble. On Tuesday morning Henderson was driving his car past the store and frightened Haywood's old horse (poor thing, I never thought he could move so quickly) so that he bolted and ran his foolish old head through the store window--just after I had my nice display of enamelware ready. It cost me over thirty dollars to get it put right. I met old Barlow at the Élite Restaurant that day and he remarked, "Makes it quite inconvenient doesn't it? Have you telephoned the insurance people about it yet?" "Insurance people?" "Yes, plate-glass insurance people." I felt the color surging into my face as I answered, "Why, no, I haven't got around to it yet." As a matter of fact, I didn't even know I could insure my plate-glass windows. It was another loss I had to bear just because of my ignorance.