The Books: Heaven to Betsy (Maud Hart Lovelace)

Daily Book Excerpt: YA fiction shelf:

Next book on the shelf is Heaven to Betsy by Maud Hart Lovelace.

My family is totally going to remember me reading these Betsy books as a teenager. I had an almost unhealthy obsession with them. I loved them. I pored over them. I read them repeatedly. I was OBSESSED. I still think it’s a pretty great series for young girls to read. The whole series started off as the Betsy-Tacy series – a story about 2 young girls in the early 1900s. They live in Deep Valley, a small town in Minnesota. They’re best friends – and there are 3 or 4 “Betsy-Tacy” books that chronicle their adventures as little pipsqueaks. There’s a third girl who joins their friendship in one of the books – her name is “Tib”. Tib? Well, yes! So then the books become the “Betsy-Tacy-Tib” series. They’re lovely but I wasn’t NEARLY as into those early books as I was to these later books. Woah, boy. Major obsession. There are 4 books in the later series – one for each year of high school – and Heaven to Betsy is the first in the series.

Maud Hart Lovelace wanted to write down all of the stories told to her by either her mother or her grandmother, about life at the turn of the century, what high school was like, being a teenager – the trends, the music, the boys – just what it all was like – and these 4 Betsy books are all about that. I just LOVED them.

Heaven to Betsy chronicles the freshman year in high school. Betsy, who has an older sister, Julia – and a younger sister Margaret, is very excited to start high school. She is eager to grow up. To be treated like Julia is. Betsy and Tacy love high school – The books are not just about the boys they have crushes on, but also about their academics, their struggles – religious issues come up (Julia decides she wants to be an Episcopalian) – There are parties, new friends to be made, boys to dance with … etc. I could go on. I just wanted to LIVE in this book and wear a furry muff and go to an ice skating party, and then have hot chocolate at a neighbor’s house before going home to bed.

Betsy’s the main character in all of these books – and it’s about her journey becoming a young woman. She’s flawed, she makes mistakes – you can see that the boy she chooses to have a crush on is a total playah – she needs to learn how to be more discerning – She also has a tendency to leave studying til the last minute and then have to CRAM – etc. etc. These books are great to read while you’re in high school, because it makes you realize that it’s all the same stuff – even though it takes place in 1906, and the boys wear suits and the girls wear middy blouses.

So here’s an excerpt. Betsy meets a bunch of people who will become her new friends in high school.

From Heaven to Betsy by Maud Hart Lovelace.

It was to develop later that the younger high school crowd had the most indoor funn at the Ray house and the most outdoor fun at the Sibleys … on the wide, trampled side lawn, and the porch running across the front and around the side of the house. The porch was unscreened and shaded by vines, now turning red. It was broad enough to hold a hammock and some chairs and a table, but nothing too good, nothing rain would hurt.

The porch was deserted today. A bonfire smouldered in the driveway; rakes lay beside it, and a crowd composed of Caroline Sibley’s brothers, Herbert Humphreys and his older brother Lawrence, Caroline and Bonnie, were seated on the leaf-strewn lawn. Cab and Betsy dropped down beside them and no one seemed to think it strange that Betsy had come. Caroline said, “Hello,” showing a surprising solitary dimple, and introduced Bonnie.

Caroline Sibley was the only girl Betsy had ever seen who had only one dimple. She was also the only girl Betsy had ever seen who looked prettier in glasses than she could possibly have looked without them. They were eye glasses and suited her demure, piquant face. She had slightly irregular teeth which folded over in front, twinkling eyes, and a skin like apple blossoms. Her straight brown hair was parted and combed smoothly back to an always crisp hair ribbon. Her shirt waist was unbelievably white, the slender waistband neat. Caroline’s people came from New England, and she had a prim New Englandish air that contrasted with the dimple in a fascinating way.

Bonnie’s blonde hair was as smooth as Caroline’s and her shirt waist as snowy and fresh. Betsy’s hair was forever coming loose, and her waists had a way of pulling out from her skirts just as soon as she forgot them and began to have a good time. She immediately admired Caroline’s and Bonnie’s trimness.

“Of course they’re sophomores,” she told herself consolingly. “Probably by the time I’m a sophomore I cn keep my waist tucked in, too.”

Bonnie had calm blue eyes. She was short, but her figure was more mature than Caroline’s and her skirts were sedately long. She had small, plump, very soft hands, and a soft, chuckling laugh that flowed continuously through the conversation. In spite of the laugh, however, she seemed womanly and serious, as befitted a minister’s daughter.

Lawrence Humphreys was as dark as Herbert was light, as big or bigger, and equally handsome. But he was quiet. He lacked Herbert’s wild high spirits. Not that these were apparent, today. Herbert seemed glum, subdued, and most of the time gazed moodily at Bonnie.

“He has a crush on Bonnie,” Betsy thought, proud of her acumen.

Lawrence, whom they all called Larry, played football on the first team. After Saturday, he said, he’d be in training and he told the girls to spoil him while they could.

Caroline was making a wreath of red ivy leaves from the porch. She was going to crown him, she explained, as the Romans crowned guests at their banquets. She and Bonnie and Larry were all studying Caesar or Cicero and were full of Latin quotations.

“O di immortales!” was Caroline’s favorite exclamation. It made Betsy’s Latin come considerably alive.

While waiting for his crown, Lawrence was being fed peanuts by Bonnie to the accompaniment of her soft giggle.

“Heck! I’m going out for football, too. What about me?” Herbert protested.

“And what about me?” asked Cab, flexing his muscles. “Boy, what football material!”

Caroline’s brothers, all still in grade school, laughed appreciateively.

The Humphreys were Philos, Betsy discovered, and Caroline and Bonnie were Zets.

“What do Philomathian and Zetamathian mean, I wonder?” asked Betsy.

Bonnie knew. Philomathian meant Lover of Learning and Zetamathian, Investigator.

“My father told me,” she explained, tossing off her knowledge.

Betsy liked her. She liked Carney, too. Already she was calling Caroline Carney, Lawrence Larry, and exclaiming O di immortales! with the rest of the crowd. At last Carney’s brothers went back to their raking which reminded Larry and Herbert that they too had a lawn.

“And, gosh, I’ve got a paper route!” Cab said. “But if you’ll go home now, Betsy, I’ll escort you. Always the perfect gentleman, by gum!”

“I can find my way,” said Betsy. “Me and my trained bloodhound!”

“Betsy isn’t going to hurry,” said Carney. She smiled up at Larry. “I think you’re mean to go. You haven’t worn your wreath.”

“You wear it. You’ll look nice in it.”

“All right. And I’ll make one for Bonnie and one for Betsy!”

“Hey! You’ll be a Triumvirate!” What, Betsy wondered, was a Triumvirate?

“Girls! We’re a Triumvirate!” cried Carney, flashing her dimple. “I want to be Caesar. He’s so cute in the pictures. You can be Crassus, Bonnie, and Betsy, you can be Pompey.”

“A Triumvirate of Lady Bugs!” jeered Larry.

“There are three of you boys, too,” cried Bonnie, soft giggles bubbling. “You’re a Triumvirate your own selves. What’s the name of yours? Make one up, somebody.”

“They’re a Triumvirate of Potato Bugs,” said Betsy.

This was a triumph. The boys, departing, yelped, and Carney and Bonnie doubled up with appreciative mirth. Their laughter continued while they robbed the porch of ivy leaves and Carney made wreaths. Carney and Bonnie laughed at everything Betsy said.

“Betsy, you’re so funny!” Bonnie kept gasping. And Betsy, delighted, laughed so hard at her own wit that she could hardly keep on being witty.

When the wreaths were finished she put hers on askew over the left eye. Carney put hers on over the right eye. Bonnie hung hers on one ear. They leered drunkenly, imitating Romans. Exhausted, at last, they rolled in the grass.

Carney sat up suddenly and said, “I hereby invite the Triumvirate to go riding tomorrow after school.”

“Will we wear crowns?” asked Betsy.

“We ought to wrap up in bedsheets like those old Romans.”

“O di immortales!” cried Carney, rocking back and forth. “We’d scare Dandy.”

“Who’s Dandy?”

“He’s our horse. All our horses are named Dandy.”

“All our horses are named Old Mag,” said Betsy, “whether they’re girls or boys.”

This struck Carney and Bonnie as so supremely comical that they were obliged to fall shrieking into the grass again. But the Big Mill whistle, blowing for six o’clock, brought them all to their feet.

“Gee, I didn’t know it was that late,” Betsy said.

“I ought to be in helping my mother,” cried Carney.

“Walk home with me, Bonnie,” Betsy urged. “I hate to think of that long walk all alone.”

“But I’d have to walk back all alone.”

“No you wouldn’t. I’d walk halfway back with you. That would make everything fair.”

So Bonnie walked home with Betsy, and having gained the new green house on High Street, they turned around and Betsy walked halfway back with Bonnie. From the time they said goodbye to Carney until they said goodbye to each other, they didn’t laugh at all. In a sudden shift of mood, Betsy asked Bonnie about Paris, and Bonnie told her a little about it, but she failed to create any picture of Paris in Betsy’s mind.

“There are lots of hacks,” she said. “They drive like mad. And there was a merry-go-round — carousels, they call them – in the park where I played after school.”

“Do you speak French?”

“Of course. Father was in the pastorate there for four years.”

“Say some for me,” said Betsy.

Bonnie looked embarrassed but obediently murmured something.

“What does that mean?”

“It means I like Deep Valley better than Paris.”

Betsy remembered that many years ago Tib had said she liked Deep Valley better than Milwaukee. Deep Valley, Betsy thought, looking up at the hills and down at the town, must be a pretty nice place.

She told Bonnie about Tib … how pretty she was, small and dainty with yellow curls. She told her that Tib was going to be a dancer.

“She and Tacy are my two best friends,” Betsy explained.

“Carney’s my best friend,” said Bonnie. “It’s wonderful having a chum. We’re having our Sunday dresses made just alike.”

“Exactly alike?”

“Exactly. Miss Mix is making them.”

“How marvelous!” cried Betsy. She wished that she and Tacy had thought of doing that.

“Carney’s going with Lawrence. Did you know it?”

“I guessed it,” said Betsy.

“Do you go with anyone?” asked Bonnie.

With a feeling of unutterable thankfulness Betsy answered carelessly, “Only Cab. He’s just a neighbor, of course.”

“I’ll tell you something, Betsy,” said Bonnie. “Promise not to tell a soul. Herbert has a crush on me.”

“I noticed it,” said Betsy. “I think it’s thrilling. Herbert was just the idol of all the girls in grade school. We trembled when we saw him, practically.”

“But he’s such a child,” cried Bonnie. “He’s such an infant. Why, he’s only a freshman, and I’m a sophomore. I wish I could hand him over to you.”

“And I wish I could find a nice sophomore boy for you,” said Betsy. “Not that you need anybody found for you,” she added, and repeated what Cab had said about Bonnie having greatly increased attendance at Christian Endeavor.

“How silly!” said Bonnie. “I try not to think about boys at Christian Endeavor.” She looked so sincerely devout that Betsy was impressed.

They parted at a point on Plum Street which was exactly half way between High Street and Broad.

Betsy instead of Julia was late for supper that night. Her father gave her a reproving glance when she entered the dining room, but he relented quickly; she looked so radiantly happy. She was full of talk all through supper. Anna, clearing the plates, paused to listen.

“But who is this Bonnie?” Mr. Ray asked.

“Bonnie Andrews. Her father is the new Presbyterian minister.”

“And Carney?”

“Caroline Sibley. Don’t be surprised, though, if I call her Julius Caesar. We’ve formed a Triumvirate.”

“What’s a Triumvirate?” asked Margaret, looking up from her plate.

“She doesn’t even know what a Triumvirate is! O di immortales!” Betsy cried.