Word: caps
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...John Grier Hibben, president of Princeton University, in a loud voice, to a pair of oak doors. He knocked loudly on the doors three times and a squeaky little voice was heard coming from the inside. Soon the doors opened and a face, under a little red cap, thrust itself between them. This was the face of famed Architect Ralph Adams Cram. The doors were those of the new, huge, Gothic Chapel designed by Architect Cram and built at a cost of $2,000,000, for Princeton students to worship in. The chapel, larger than all other college chapels except...
...year later she tells her devoted Anglo-Saxon that what she had felt for di Bari had not been the real thing: she had only thought she was in love. But now. . . . So she gives the American her "glowing beauty . . . the liquid eyes, the satin red cheeks, the cap of loose curls," and a portly income...
...nevertheless harassed, owners to the very descendants of Lowenskold. Far from treating his heirs more kindly, the ghostly grandsire bedevilled the son of the house with a wasting disease. But for a lovelorn governess the jewel would never have been found, glinting in the woolen tassel of a castaway cap. She lays the ghost, and saves the son, but all, alas, for his other sweetheart...
Last week another President, Calvin Coolidge, clad in black academy robes and mortarboard cap with gold tassel, stood before a microphone on the Georgian portico of Samuel Phillips Hall to help celebrate the sesquicentennial of Phillips Academy. Mrs. Coolidge was sitting behind him, moved not so much by what he was saying as by a hymn she had just heard. It was her favorite Jesus I Love Thee and also the hymn of Mercersburg Academy, where her son Calvin Jr. schooled before his death in 1924. It was sung by nearly a thousand Andover students, and Mrs. Coolidge added...
...covered (TIME, April 30). Reluctant, the Hanging Committee obeyed. The pictures were silly and terrible; their names had a dark and foolish clamor-My Pain Sheltering Beneath Your Hand, Here Am I. Passing them at last, to look at Sir William Orpen's bitterly melodramatic The Black Cap, or the clever work of 14-year-old Joan Manning Saunders, the smart happy people imitated Premier Baldwin's solemn headshake. "Dreadful . . ." they said, "a shocking thing...