the puppies run she knew would stop their barking. Tattine was right about
that, but just as she swung the gate open, a happy thought struck those four
little puppies' minds, and as she started to run back to the house, all four
of them buried their sharp little teeth in the frill of Priscilla's wrapper.

Still Tattine succeeded in making her way across the lawn back to the door,
although she had four puppies in tow and was almost weak from laughing.

She knew perfectly well what a funny picture she must make, with the wrapper
that was so much too large for her, only kept in place by the big puff
sleeves: and with the puppies pulling away for dear life, it the train. When
she reached the screen door, she had a tussle with them, one by one, taking a
sort of reef in the trailing skirt as each puppy was successfully disposed of,
until all of it was clear of the sharp little teeth, and she could bang the
door to between them.

I do not believe Grandma Luty ever laughed harder than when Tattine told her
all about it as they sat together in the porch that morning after breakfast.
She even laughed her cap way over on one side, so that Tattine had to take out
the gold pins and put them in again to straighten it.

"But Grandma," said Tattine, when they had sobered down, "those puppies,
cunning as they are now, will just be cruel setters when they grow up, killing
everything they come across, birds and rabbits and chipmunks."

"Tattine," said Grandma Luty, with her dear, kindly smile "your Mother has
told me how disappointed you have been this summer in Betsy and Doctor and
little Black-and-white, and that now Barney has fallen into disgrace, since he
kept you so long in the ford the other day, but I want to tell you something.
You must not stop loving them at all because they do what you call cruel