Word: strays
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...this operation several times, keeps his plants in his private hothouses. Not long ago a Mr. F. E. Dixon of Elkins Park, Pa., an orchid grower with the instincts of a stockbroker, cornered the market by buying every available Cattleya Gigas Alba var Firmen Lambeau in Britain. From a stray orchid of the original Cattleya Gigas Alba, Mr. Lager acquired the piece of his own plant that flowered so lushly last week. There are seven bulbs on this. Soon he expects to have two plants in two pots. Only once a year does an orchid bloom. Not for generations...
Residents of Manhattan's smart East End Avenue and Henderson Place did not know what they had to contend with when their cats began to disappear last fortnight. Even a socialite cat may stray, but when Writer Gilbert Seldes' Daisy, Lawyer Walter Richmond Herrick's Tiddles and several other pets vanished in quick succession it began to look as though there were a gatophobe in the neighborhood. Peter Herrick, 10, whose favorite pet Tiddles had been for some seven years, took to his bed with a fever, would not be comforted...
Outside the world is swaying in a light and airy rhythm. The swank blues and mousey grays of Central Square hoyer by; gay bucks and their plebeian maids are on the shabby avenue, tempting one to stray abroad. The Vagabond, pigeon-breasted from long days at his books, expands his lungs, and plunges into the indescribale subway entrance. There, his stick and gloves, his shining topper, are the center of a half-awed admiration. He enters the car like a fairy prince swirling away in his coach; even the guards bow and scrape like tousled sycophants...
Thirty tons of sand and several large steel plates will furnish backing for the targets and insure against stray bullets, while wooden planking, furnished by the H.A.A. will block off the range from the rest of the district underneath the Stadium...
...replied, "it's such a nice day I'd rather walk." She left. Mr. Coolidge sat talking with Secretary Ross-about the Plymouth place, last year's partridge shooting, hay fever. He strolled to the kitchen to get a drink of water. He put a stray book neatly back into the case. He evened up pens on the desk. He idly fingered a jigsaw puzzle with his name on it. He went "down cellar," watched the furnace man shovel coal. About noon he disappeared upstairs, presumably to shave, as so many New Englanders do about midday...