Q:An editorial recently began with the statement, “Of all the reports coming out of Washington, few are more distressing than reports of taxpayers being milked by special-interest groups.” Shouldn't that verb be bilked?

A:Probably, but not certainly. The verb bilk means “to cheat or to block from free fulfillment.” It originated as an alternate spelling of the verb balken, derived from the Old English noun balk, a ridge of land between two furrows created for planting. However, the word milked also carries the implication of exploitation. Originating from the verbal form of the noun milk, it first described the process of obtaining milk from cows, but has expanded to mean “to draw from, as if milking,” and, later, “to exploit.”

Another reader submitted a similar question. She sent a newspaper headline stating, “Canceled Speech Stirs Broad Repercus-sions,” and asked whether stirs should have been spurs. As with the verb milked, the answer is “probably, but not certainly.” Stylistically, spurs would have been a better choice, for it metaphorically evokes the image of the spikes attached to the heel of the rider of a horse, which is used to cause the horse to go faster. So, used figuratively, spur means “incite to action.” But the writer may have been thinking of a metaphor, the “stirring” of the contents of a pot, which also would increase movement

Other readers have found mistakes in idioms. One reader saw a notice about a forthcoming concert; the notice stated that the musician was difficult to “pigeonhold” musically. She suggested that the word should have been “pigeonhole,” and she was right. The compound noun pigeonhole originally described a hole or small nest for pigeons to hatch in; then it expanded and added a figurative meaning: “a compartment or category.” As a verb, to pigeonhole means “to place into a compartment, as of a desk, or to assign neatly into a category.” The journalist who changed the e to d was probably unaware of the derivation of the compound and may have been picturing a place large enough to “hold a pigeon”!

Another reader sent an editorial describing an individual as “hale and hardy.” The editorial writer got the first adjective of the idiom right. The adjective hale comes from the Old English adjective hale, which meant “sound, or whole,” the sense it still has, in the adjective “healthy.” But the writer got the idiom wrong when he substituted the word hardy for hearty. The adjective hearty is derived from Old English hierden, which was borrowed from Old French hardir, “to make hard.” In Middle English, it took on the meaning of “vigorous or robust.” So the entire phrase means “healthy and physically strong.” It's easy to see why the editorialist made the mistake.

The expansion of the adjective healthy has virtually obliterated another adjective, healthful. There used to be a nice distinction between healthy (“in good health”) and healthful (“good for you”). People and animals were healthy; foods, climate, and all inanimate objects were healthful (or unhealthful). But how long has it been since you have heard of “healthful foods”? So another useful distinction has been lost.

Among other interesting mistakes was a news item in the local university student newspaper announcing that “a small group of students have been allowed to hobknob with politicians.” The student journalist was apparently unaware of the origin of the word hobnob, which is an alternate spelling of the Old English compound verb haebb naebbe, “to have and have not.” The expression originated from the practice of social drinking, in which each member of the social group paid for one round of drinks and was then treated to successive rounds of drinks by others in the group. The word hobnob has since expanded to include all familiar and informal association. Even total abstainers can now “hobnob.”

Another journalistic error appeared recently in the local newspaper, when a journalist wrote about “a pain-staking verification process.” The adjective should, of course, been painstaking (no hyphen necessary), indicating that “pains” must be “taken.” As Alexander Pope wrote many years ago, “a little knowledge is a dangerous thing.”

Finally, a reader has asked about the phrase willynilly. That word originated from the Old English phrase wil ye nil ye, “will you or will you not.” Something will occur whether you will it or not. Currently, the meaning of willynilly retains the same sense of helplessness or inevitability.

That phrase, along with expressions like hobnob, nitwit, bigwigs, higgledy-piggledy, harum-scarum, razzle-dazzle, hubbub, teeny-weeny, heebie-jeebies, shilly-shally, and many others, indicates our tendency to play with language simply by repeating sounds, a process linguists call “reduplication.” Remember that line, published in 1845, which has since been cited by countless English teachers as an illustration, the almost-hypnotizing effect of the repeated s sound in Edgar Allan Poe's “silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain.” (From “The Raven.”)

Carlton Laird, in his delightful book, The Miracle of Language argued that when babies begin to babble they play with words by rhyming words like mama and papa, and continue to do so all through their lives. We also play with language by using words that imitate sounds (a process called “onomatopoeia”), words like whisper, whirr, whiz, meow, and shh.

Edgar Allan Poe used repetition of the w, n, and p sounds along with a sing-song pattern to achieve the ominous effect of these lines from “The Raven”: