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Updated: July 27, 2025
Take a 1/2 oz. of the best black sealing wax, pound it well, and put it into a 4 oz. vial, containing 2 ozs. of rectified spirits of wine; place it in a sand-bath or near a moderate fire till the wax is dissolved, then lay it on warm, with a fine soft hairbrush, before a fire or in the sun. It gives a good stiffness to old straw hats, and a beautiful gloss equal to new. It likewise resists wet.
"Don't you get the idea into your mind that our revered Head's easy-going!" Wally retorted. "He thinks nothing of skinning a fellow on occasion only he didn't happen to think a lobster was occasion that night, anyhow. You see, it was near the end of term, and even Heads get soft!" "Lots of em," said Jim; "look at your own!" He dodged a hairbrush neatly.
Blow the bugle, Judy." "Wasn't this the wildest evening we ever put in?" said Katherine, fishing her hairbrush out of the water pail. "Where's Tiny?" she asked, becoming aware that their Councilor was not in the tent, "Down on the hill looking for her bed." replied Oh-Pshaw. "Goodness, let's go down and help her," said Katherine, and Oh-Pshaw and Jean streamed after her down the path.
But Mother had punished her in the Third Degree which was by hairbrush and Aunt Elsie had taken the watering-pot away and Rosalind and Dickie had put on such offensively virtuous expressions as soon as they heard her being punished that she was mad at them all. And not ordinarily mad not mad just by herself the Choolies were divinely incensed as well.
By the light of the single candle an English reading-light with a reflecting hood she saw her aunt's figure standing out in strong relief against the dark background of shadow. Madame Patoff's thick gray hair was streaming down her back and over her shoulders, and she held a hairbrush in her hand, as though the fit of walking had come upon her while she was at her toilet.
With quite commendable bravery Ingred flung her boots at it, which missiles were instantly followed by Nora's hairbrush, Fil's dispatch case, and Verity's pillow. It screamed in a most unburglar-like voice, and apparently with genuine fright. "If you t-t-t-try to c-c-come nearer, I'll sh-sh-shoot you dead!" quavered Ingred, wishing she had at least some semblance of a pistol to bluff with.
She brushed her hair outside in the moonlight, because a small tent is not the place in which to wield a hairbrush; then she slipped into bed, and her father came and tucked her up before tying the flap securely enough to keep out possible intruders in the shape of "bears" and 'possums.
Thoroughly mystified, Podmore fished out the tiny key that belonged to satchel number one. It would not fit! With an oath he seized a hairbrush, smashed both lock and brush, slipped the catches and yanked open the satchel. Inside lay a roll of old newspapers, tied at the ends with dirty white string! That was ALL! Hughey Podmore wiped his forehead with his handkerchief.
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