Word: rascal
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...going to let him prognosticate for you again this week. Jealousy? Ridiculous! Jealousy is not one of Great-Hearted Joe Forecast's faults. I realize that Joe Jr. won money for keen Harvard business men last week when he predicted Harvard's victory over Holy Cross, though the little rascal didn't give the exact score. He also did well on the other ames except for getting Penn and Penn State mixed up--a natural mistake for a young fellow...
...iron, generally, has been driven into the soul of young playwrights who label their dramas with such matter-of-fact simplicity. In this case, it is a story of four maiden sisters of the heavily-upholstered convention-corseted '90s. Two of them have secretly wed the same rascal. One is recognized as wife; the other bears a bastard son. This black thread in their life's pattern is accompanied by the incessant nagging of the wizened humpbacked sister. In the spinsters' parlor-desert their scandal festers almost to the end. The dreariness of their tragedy is incongruously...
...Consul Somerville Pinkney Tuck avoided trouble by a quick-witted remark. As he moved, unrecognized among the rioters, a woman stuck a nasty, leering face close to his and shouted loudly: "We wish to kill this American Consul pig!"* "Yes," said Mr. Tuck, "he is a rascal," and went home...
...piece, he again enacts a lovable, old scamp bent on doing good in the wickedest ways. He would marry his pretty granddaughter to the grandson of his partner (in the garage business). The grandson helps himself into trouble by helping out a bootlegging World War veteran. But the aged rascal fixes everything. The play consists for the most part of "canned" gag situations of the reliable "old soak" brand...
...their Senator? What if the banker ordered him to accept, so that, by his one passionate theft, a man with a slave's psychology became an Honorable, eligible for the highest office in the land, certain to have as fine a funeral as that enjoyed by a great rascal to whose pompous obituaries he had once listened in dismay? What if this story were written by a calm, an almost lugubrious satirist, without any ranting; by a master of adroit prose? Might people not exclaim about such a book...