At first James and I shared a bed in the second floor room with windows on three sides because we had to wait for a second floor roomer's lease to be up before I could have my own bedroom. The room was entered through a multi-paned French door located at the end of (and providing light to) the second floor hallway. One day when our parents were out of the house, James and Warren were running down this hallway, Warren in hot pusuit of James. James ran into the bedroom and slammed the French door with Warren too close behind to stop in time. His out-thrust arm broke through a middle pane in the door. The broken glass gave his arm a nasty cut. Fortunately Dr. White, who lived next door, was available to come over and stitch up the wound, while Warren watched with the sort of fascination that children muster for exciting new experiences.