Word: maides
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...Crooner Bing Crosby began to talk about-of all things-frozen orange juice concentrate. "Jock" Whitney thought he had hold of a good business proposition, and by the time they had got to the 19th Bing was all ears. Last week the Whitney-dominated Vacuum Foods Corp. (Minute Maid frozen orange juice concentrate) announced the deal they made...
...their speech, it is apparent that they are contemporaries of Oscar Wilde. The talk is about their hosts who have just opened in a new play. One particularly saucy young man tells how Gay (Miss Gordon) was "discovered" by Gerald, already an established star, when she was a chamber-maid at the Palmer House. (A titter is heard around the stage at that remark which manages somehow to spread out into the audience: perhaps the playwright has not misjudged the audience after all.) Nevertheless, the young man continues, everyone loves Gay and just hates Gerald because he is so mean...
...maid in the Monday family's home, Sara pitied the "hampered and hagged" master of the house, Matt Monday, who though in his 40s was still "like a child, and kept from his rights as a man" by "his good mamma and his older sister." When the timid Matt proposed, Sara accepted him. Then, aflame with youth and cocky in her new social position, she began to notice other...
...book purports to be the sobered recollections of Sara Monday, a kitchen maid who rises to country lady, only to sink at last to thievery and the lockup. "An ordinary country girl, neither pretty or plain" who takes a free & easy view of human foibles, including her own, she is obviously a 20th Century descendant of Moll Flanders. Like Moll, Sara discovers that when she lets her sentiment rule her shrewdness, she usually suffers...
Just after noon one day last week at Dower House, the vast 17th Century Maryland manse that once housed the Earls of Calvert and Baltimore, a telephone rang. The Washington Times-Herald was on the phone; an editor had a message for his boss. The butler and maid went to wake their mistress. They found her in her big bed, slumped over a book and an early edition of her paper. A heart attack had killed copper-haired Eleanor Medill Patterson, 63, the vain, shrewd, lonely, and lavishly spoiled woman who used a newspaper to speak her whims with...