Word: maides
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Daisy Mayme, middle-aged merchant-maid of Harrisburg, lonesome but always laughing, meets Cliff Mettinger, bachelor, and his orphan niece on the bright shore at Atlantic City. She goes to Cliff's suburban home as the family guest, there to encounter feminine intrigue: Cliff's two sisters eager for his money. During the downpour of a domestic storm, Daisy blossoms forth a late but hardy bride. As usual, Mr. Kelly subordinates action to characterization and dialogue, with the result that his play moves slowly. As usual, Mr. Kelly's protagonists tell Mr. Kelly's antagonists just...
...that priceless pair, Stone pere and Stone fille. Dad's acrobatic clowning discovers laughs that the lines themselves never even hinted at, while Daughter's unspoiled charm is one of Broadway's fresh delights. The dull book goes on at length concerning a simple maid who is about to be begged, borrowed, or stolen from her French Academy shelter by ruthless wooers, when Stone, the elder, swoops along in an airplane, hanging by his heels, and flips the lass into a heavier-than-air-haven. Loud applause-for sweet Dorothy, her still agile ancestor, and Mr. Dillingham...
...when she was ready to come because no one else could sing Wagner as she could. She left the Metropolitan again, went touring the country in concert, into towns much smaller than Stevens Point, into army camps, schools, hospitals, East, North, South, West. No entourage traveling with her, no maid even, no road manager. Just Schumann Heink, taking an upper when she could not get a lower, hater of temperament, lover of her children, lover of soldiers the world over, of corn' beef and cabbage . . . shrewd . . . generous...
...holds the keys to numberless cities. There will be 70 concerts in all, nine in Wisconsin, then to Indiana, Ohio, Illinois, Michigan, Kentucky, Pennsylvania, New York, Washington, D. C., Maryland, Texas, Mississippi, Florida, Virginia, Massachusetts, Missouri, a few performances at the Metropolitan sandwiched in. No entourage, not even a maid; just Schumann Heink grinning a great wide grin to show she is at home...
...damosels engaged in that profession; they touch nothing that they do not adorn; but . . . should a mediaeval warrior suddenly appear in a modern barbershop, and see a fat man reclining in a chair, with a barber scraping his face, a bootblack energetically rubbing his shoes, and a fair maid clipping his nails, he would doubtless believe that this was some new, elaborate, and efficient method of torture; perhaps he would be right...