She preferred the disreputable grizzly-bear rug in front of the living room hearth.

And, temporarily deserting his loved cave, Lad used to lie on this rug at her side; well content when she edged him off its downy center and onto the bumpy edges.
All winter, Lady's sleeping quarters had been the tool-house in the back garden, behind the stables.

Here, on a sweet-smelling (and flea-averting) bed of cedar shavings, she had been comfortable and wholly satisfied.

But, at once, on her promotion, she appeared to look upon the once-homelike tool-house as a newly rich daylaborer might regard the tumbledown shack where he had spent the days of his poverty.
She avoided the tool-house; and even made wide detours to avoid passing close to it.

There is no more thoroughgoing snob, in certain ways, than a high-bred dog.