She tried to act as though it were nothing to go to the library alone. But her happiness betrayed her. Her smile could not be restrained, and it spread from her tightly pressed mouth, to her round cheeks, almost to the hair ribbons tied in perky bows over her ears.
Maud Hart LovelaceMots clés happiness joy smile excitement independence
This was Betsy and Tacy's private corner. Betsy's mother was a great believer in people having private corners, and the piano box was plainly meant to belong to Betsy and Tacy, for it fitted them so snugly.
Maud Hart LovelaceMots clés personal-space
They soon stopped being ten years old. But whatever age they were seemed to be exactly the right age for having fun.
Maud Hart LovelaceMots clés growing-up childhood
Betsy liked to read her stories aloud and she read them like an actress. She made her voice low and thrillingly deep. She made it shake with emotion. She laughed mockingly and sobbed wildly when the occasion required.
Maud Hart LovelaceMots clés reading dramatic actress authoress
Betsy liked to talk. Her father always said she got it from her mother, and her mother always said she got it from her father. But whomever she got it from she was certainly a talker.
Maud Hart LovelaceMots clés conversation talking heridity talker
It looks like something out of Whittier's "Snowbound,"' Julia said. Julia could always think of things like that to say.
Maud Hart LovelaceMots clés winter snow evening bobsledding snowbound
The wastes of snow on the hill were ghostly in the moonlight. The stars were piercingly bright.
Maud Hart LovelaceMots clés nature stars winter snow moonlight hills bobsledding
Come in early, so there'll be time to pop corn,' Mrs. Ray said. If she mentioned popping corn, they always came in early. So she usually mentioned it.
Maud Hart LovelaceMots clés parenting popcorn bobsledding popping-corn
Betsy did not answer. She was a talker, her family always said, but sometimes when she most wanted to talk she couldn't say a word.
Maud Hart LovelaceMots clés talking silent talker
Thoughts are such fleet magic things. Betsy's thoughts swept a wide arc while Uncle Keith read her poem aloud. She thought of Julia learning to sing with Mrs. Poppy. She thought of Tib learning to dance. She thought of herself and Tacy and Tib going into their 'teens. She even thought of Tom and Herbert and of how, by and by, they would be carrying her books and Tacy's and Tib's up the hill from high school.
Maud Hart LovelaceMots clés friends future growing-up children adventures looking-ahead teenage-years
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