Even Rosie was quite friendly with her, had ceased to tease and vex her; and mutual forbearance had given each a better opinion of the other than she had formerly entertained.
But Lulu grew self-confident, and began to relax her vigilance: it was so long since her temper had got decidedly the better of her, that she thought it conquered, or so nearly so that she need not be continually on the watch against it.
Rosie had brought home with her a new pet,--a beautiful puppy as mischievous as he was handsome.
Unfortunately it happened again and again that something belonging to Lulu attracted his attention, and was seriously damaged or totally destroyed by his teeth and claws.

He chewed up a pair of kid gloves belonging to her; and it did not mend matters that Rosie laughed as though it were a good joke, and then told her it was her own fault for not putting them in their proper place when she took them off: he tore her garden-hat into shreds; he upset her inkstand; tumbled over her work-basket, tangling the spools of sewing-silk and cotton; jumped upon her with muddy paws, soiling a new dress and handsome sash; and at last capped the climax by defacing a book of engravings, belonging to Mr.
Dinsmore, which she had carelessly left in his way.
Then her anger burst forth, and she kicked the dog till his howls brought Rosie running to the rescue.
"How dare you, Lulu Raymond!" she exclaimed, with flashing eyes, as she gathered Trip in her arms, and soothed him with caresses.

"I'll not allow my pet to be so ill used in my own mother's house!" "He deserves a great deal more than I gave him," retorted Lulu, quivering with passion; "and if you don't want him hurt, you'll have to keep him out of mischief.

Just look what he has done to this book!" "One of grandpa's handsome volumes of engravings!" cried Rosie, aghast.
"But who left it lying there ?" "I did." "Then you are the one to blame, and not my poor little Trip, who, of course, knew no better.

How is he to tell that books are not meant for gnawing quite as much as bones ?" "What is the matter, children ?" asked Mr.Dinsmore, stepping out upon the veranda where the little scene was enacting.