Tattine was getting on beautifully with her attempt to use Grandma Luty's name at the proper time， and in the proper place， and she was getting on beautifully with grandma herself as well.She loved everything about her， and wished it need not be so very long till she could be a grandma herself， have white hair and wear snowy caps atop of it， and kerchiefs around her neck， and use gold eye-glasses and a knitting-basket.Grandma Luty， you see， was one of the dear， old-fashioned grandmothers.There are not many of them nowadays.
Most of them seem to like to dress so you cannot tell a grandmother from just an ordinary everyday mother.If you have a grandmother--a nice old one， Imean--see if you cannot get her into the cap and kerchief， and then show her how lovely she looks in them.But what I was going to tell you was that Grandma Luty's visit was all a joy to Tattine， and so when， just at daylight one morning， the setter puppies in their kennel at the back of the house commenced a prodigious barking， Tattine's first thought was for Grandma.
"It's a perfect shame to have them wake her up，" she said to herself， "and Iknow a way to stop them，" so， quiet as a mouse， she stole out of bed， slipped into her bed-slippers and her nurse's wrapper， that was lying across a chair， and then just as noiselessly stole downstairs， and unlocking the door leading to the back porch， hurried to open the gate of the kennel， for simply to let 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.