Word: pail
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...afternoon after he had arrived in this country from Ireland. John, who at that time was earning his livelihood as an odd job man, was watching some of the students playing baseball on the Common. One of them asked him to bring them some water, and John fetched a pail of refreshment so pleasantly cooled with ice flavored with ginger ale and molasses, that the students took up a collection for him told him that if he were to buy fruit and bring it to their rooms, they would all buy from...
Other N. Y. Newspapers. The "regular" newspapers were like urchins sliding down an icy sidewalk who suddenly behold a garbage pail at the bottom of the hill. Having filled their columns with the same sort of thing before, they now found it too late to stop. The tabloids, moreover, had made of the Brownings "news" which newspapers could not, they felt, afford to omit. The Hearst Journal was willing enough, nay, eager, to rush its leading staff members to the trial, including saccharine Nell Brinkley who discovered a "lesson to mothers" for the front page. But the editor...
...eighth of an inch thick, then a coat of heavy grease. Gertrude Ederle, standing bare in the Hotel Sirene, Cape Gris Nez, France, shivered slightly and pressed her legs together. "Gee whiz, let's get started." Her sister, Margaret, dipped her hands once more in the grease pail. "Put your bathing suit on," she directed over her shoulder. More grease was applied to the strong stumpy body, clad now in a thin racing suit, cut away deeply under the arms. Gertrude Ederle (pronounced "Ed-er-ly") ran across the beach into the surf, briefly acknowledging the cheers...
...litter of four squirming puppies whimpered at the bottom of a pail which Mr. Mazarak tilted carelessly, spilling them into the hole. Whistling, he scraped and shoveled loose earth upon them, tamped it well...
...fireworks over, a vote was taken. As the Baldwin steam roller crunched, Sir Austen was sustained 325 to 136. None the less, his prestige has undoubtedly suffered. Quoth a wag: "Sir Austen may yet drown in his own pail of white-wash...