My orders were taken on condition that the goods were to be paid for promptly in ten days. I sold to druggists and grocers, and made enough sales in one week to keep our factory running to its "fullest capacity" for at least four weeks. I then returned to Toledo and began filling orders. As soon as ten days had expired, after having sent out our first orders, we began sending out statements, asking for remittances. We received but two small payments, when letters began pouring in from our customers condemning us and our soap. The general complaint was that it had all dried or shriveled up, and as some claimed, evaporated. One druggist wrote in, saying the soap was there, or what there was left of it, subject to our orders. He was thankful he had not sold any of it, and was glad he had discovered the fraud before it had entirely disappeared and before he had paid his bill! Another druggist stated that he had analyzed it and would swear that it was made of "wind and water;" while still another declared that his wife had attempted to wash with a cake of it, and was obliged to send down town for some "soap" to remove the grease from her hands. After reading a few of these letters, I opened my traveling case, took out my original sample box, and discovered at once that in shaking it, it rattled like a rattle-box. I raised the cover and found my twelve sweet-scented, pretty cakes of soap had almost entirely withered away, and the odor was more like a glue factory than a crack toilet soap. We made strenuous efforts to satisfy them, by making all manner of excuses and apologies but to no purpose. In every instance "the soap was there subject to our orders." My partner was much chagrined at the outcome and sudden collapse of our firm, and no doubt felt the situation more deeply than myself, although I was the loser financially. After borrowing money enough from an old school-mate, I paid my board bill and bought a ticket for home. I had been away less than four weeks. I first met Mr. Keefer at the barn and explained to him "just how it all happened," and how the soap dried up, and how I had become stranded at Toledo and borrowed money to get home with. He said he guessed he would have to let me have the money to pay the fellow back, as I had promised, which he did, and a few dollars besides. I then went to the house and explained matters to my mother. She said I might have known just how that soap business would end, and reminded me of the request she made about leaving money enough to pay the note and informed me that I needn't expect any help from Mr. Keefer, for he should not give me a penny.