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Updated: June 22, 2025
His son, finding himself with a capital income, and a pretty taste for amusement, cut the shop of his late lamented parent, found out that his family had come over with the Conqueror Glanville de Whyte helped to sew the Bayeux tapestry, I suppose and graduated at the Frivolity Theatre as a masher.
"Oh, werry good lookin'," said Sal. "Werry tall, with yeller 'air an' moustache. He 'ad party clothes on, an' a masher coat, an' a soft 'at." "That's Fitzgerald right enough," muttered Calton. "And what did he do when he came?"
"Ah, but the other's a real masher," chimed in Geraldine, looking up from her millinery; "such black eyes, that go through you like a gimlet, and such a lovely moustache. He dresses elegant too." "Being Miss Loach's lawyer, he have a right to dress well," said Mrs. Pill, rubbing her nose with the stocking, "and Mr. Clancy, I thinks, is someone Mr. Jarvey Hale's helpin', he being good and kind."
His one and only diversion from the search was to go to Enghien, where the Growler and the Masher lived, and make sure that nothing had been seen of them since the murder at the Villa Marie-Therese. Apart from this, he applied himself to the question of Daubrecq and nothing else.
"A Turkish pig is no worse than an English cad or a German boor." The typical, philandering Broadway or Bond Street masher makes the physiological mistake of undervaluing the innate sense of decency inherent in every woman. Gentle courtesy and manners impress a courtesan by reason of the novelty. The inverse is often useful in dealing with a pampered society woman.
He also had honorable mention at two cat shows in England when a kitten, under the name of Bumble Bee. Lord Gwynne is a noble specimen, a long-haired white cat with wonderful blue eyes. He was bred from Champion Bundle, and his mother was out of The Masher, No. 1027, winner of many championships. His former owner was Mrs. Davies, of Upper Cattesham. Mrs.
He went to let the Growler and the Masher in and said: "Is everything ready? Is old Brindebois at the restaurant? Quick, let us be off!" "It's no use, governor," replied the Masher. "No use? What do you mean?" "There's news." "What news? Speak, man!" "Daubrecq has disappeared." "Eh? What's that? Daubrecq disappeared?" "Yes, carried off from his house, in broad daylight." "The devil! By whom?"
"Well, I declare!" exclaimed Nurse Jane Fuzzy Wuzzy, the muskrat lady housekeeper of Uncle Wiggily Longears, the rabbit, as she looked in the pantry of the hollow stump bungalow one day. "Well, I do declare!" "What's the matter?" asked Mr. Longears, peeping over the top of his spectacles. "I hope that the chimney hasn't fallen down, or the egg beater run away with the potato masher."
Here's a good motto: 'Square with the boys and nice to the girls. But keep off the street corners, fellows, or they'll get you mixed up with some of that masher gang." The Joyce boy pulled his hat forward and marshaled the retreat from the loafing-place. "Naw, he ain't no candidate, nuther," he informed his associates when they were out of hearing. "He ain't canvassing for no votes.
"Pierce Butler, come up wid your multiplication. Pierce, multiply four hundred by two put it down that's it, By 2" "Twice nought is one." "Take that as an illustration is that one?" "Faith, masther, that's two, any how: but, sir, is not wanst nought nothin'; now masher, sure there can't be less than nothin'." "Very good, sir."
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