Betsy in Spite of Herself by Maud Hart Lovelace

Author:Maud Hart Lovelace [Lovelace, Maud Hart]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

“O, Christmas tree, O, Christmas tree,

How lovely are thy branches …”

Betsy wanted to pinch herself, to make sure she was awake, but she couldn’t manage it very well with Tib holding one hand and a pig-tailed twin swinging from the other.

All around the room were tables covered with sheets. The smiling servant girl hurried about taking off the sheets, and there were tables for everyone … the servant girl, the cook who came in from the kitchen, and old Johann, wrinkled and nut-like. There was even a table for Betsy laden with boxes of candy and cakes, hair ribbons, pin cushions, pen wipers, and sachet bags.

The children were mad with excitement. They were throwing paper to the floor, and the aunts were picking it up and folding it neatly. Everyone was kissing and thanking everyone else.

Then Betsy was swept on the tide of Mullers into the dining room for a delicious cold supper … roast fowl and ham, potato salad, pickled herring, pickles of many kinds and little curly anchovies; cream filled horns, cakes glazed with sugar and others decked out with peaches and cherries. There was hot chocolate for the children, and the men and women had wine. They toasted Grosspapa and Grossmama, and the President of the United States and Kaiser Wilhelm.

“Grosspapa Hornik,” Tib whispered, “won’t toast Kaiser Wilhelm nor Kaiser Franz Josef either. He doesn’t like Kaisers. He and Grosspapa Muller don’t get on very well.”

The children went back to the tree to play with their dolls and toys. Soon the younger ones began to grow sleepy. At last with mingled cries of “Fröhliche Weihnachten” and “Merry Christmas,” oldsters began to put on coats and furs.

“Tib!” said Betsy. “I haven’t seen the dwarfs!”

“Come quick!” cried Tib, catching her hand.

She pulled Betsy toward the dining room and Fred and Hobbie and Cousin Heinrich followed. They ran through the pantry and kitchen, down spotless stairs, into the largest cleanest basement Betsy had ever beheld.

There, indeed, were the seven dwarfs standing in a row. The biggest one didn’t come to Betsy’s shoulder. The smallest was about a foot high. They were made of cast iron and wore short Alpine jackets and little Alpine hats with feathers in them. Each hat was a different color … red, green, purple, yellow, pink, blue and brown.

“Every winter,” said Tib, “Grosspapa has them repainted. And every spring, as soon as the snow melts, he puts them out on the lawn. Since he has retired from business he takes more interest in his dwarfs than in anything else, Papa says. Every year he puts them out differently. Some years they head north, and some south, and some east, and some west. But always the big dwarf leads.”

“Grossmama Muller,” said Fred, “wishes that some year the little dwarf could lead. Every spring she asks Grosspapa … ‘Just this once, Gerhard, just this one year let the little dwarf lead.’ But he won’t. He always has them go in a straight line with the big dwarf at the head.

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