Rough House was scarcely out of the puppy stage and the Teddy bear had often trembled for himself and his family, chiefly, I am afraid, for his own hide, as he watched the big fellow running off to his lair under the head of Sally’s bed and close up against the wall, an almost impregnable fastness where it was practically impossible to get at him, carrying in his mouth various belongings of Sally’s which he proceeded to tear and rend in a leisurely manner.
Of course Peter Pan could not understand that it was quite as much the ache and pain of the rapidly arriving second teeth which caused a desire to bite on something or anything, as a craving for destructiveness, which caused all these reprehensible proceedings.
The results, however, were just as disheartening, the dog having even levied on the doll’s house and chewed up a bedstead and the beautiful celluloid infant who happened to be reposing in it. So nurse now draped the open front of the house each night with a sheet, and Rough House’s depredations in that direction ceased perforce.
Once, indeed, Maggie had essayed to poke him out of his stronghold under the bed with her broom, when he was tearing up Sally’s beloved little red bedroom slippers. But the dog, unheeding Maggie’s weapon of offense, had merely turned his head and looked over his shoulder, baring every one of his white fangs in such an unearthly grin that Maggie fled in disorder and Sally’s footgear was left to its tragic fate.
Sally was so much annoyed by the loss of her favorite slippers that she resolved to punish the dog by tying the small remnant of them around his neck, where they remained, flapping, until they fell to pieces. Whereupon Rough House fell upon the fragments with avidity and the last state of his vandalism was worse than the first.
Two weeks had elapsed since the adventures of the Teddy bears in the attic. Peace had descended on the troubled household and every thing was jogging along comfortably and quietly.
But just at this stage of the game Peter Pan made up his mind that it was time to visit the kitchen, as his family, especially Bedelia, who had grown more surly than ever, were complaining bitterly of short rations. His only fear was of Rough House, who slept in the nursery. The dog had been on the alert ever since Peter Pan’s last escapade with the rat trap, but as nothing in particular had happened since then, was now somewhat relaxing his vigilance.
On this particular night, the whole family being wolfishly hungry, Bedelia declared that they should wait no longer, and Peter Pan consented, although not without some misgivings, to lead a raid on the kitchen.
