She had an aversion to anything physically imperfect, no matter how lovable it might be to others.

This tattered example struck her as particularly objectionable.
"No, darlin'-- nothin' 'cept his food," and Martha laughed.
"What a horrid little beast!" Lucy said half aloud to herself, clinging all the closer to the nurse.

"This isn't the dog sister Jane wrote me about, is it?
She said you loved him dearly--you don't, do you ?" "Yes, that's the same dog.

You don't like him, do you, darlin' ?" "No, I think he's awful," retorted Lucy in a positive tone.
"It's all I had to pet since you went away," Martha answered apologetically.
"Well, now I'm home, give him away, please.

Go away, you dreadful dog!" she cried, stamping her foot as Meg, now reassured, tried to jump upon her.
The dog fell back, and crouching close to Martha's side raised his eyes appealingly, his ear and tail dragging.
Jane now joined them.