ven above is more
than I can pretend to say, but from that afternoon he began to be aware
of a very unsatisfactory alteration in his treatment.

Don had sometimes felt a little out of temper with his mistress for
being slow to understand exactly what he _did_ want, and he had barked,
almost sharply, to intimate to the best of his powers--'Not bread and
butter, stoopid--_cake_!' So you may conceive his disgust when she did
not even give him bread and butter; nothing but judicious
advice--_without_ jam. She was most apologetic, it is true, and
explained amply why she could not indulge him as heretofore, but Don
wanted sugar, and not sermons. Sometimes she nearly gave way, and then
cruel Daisy would intercept the dainty under his very nose, which he
thought most unfeeling.

He had a sort of notion that it was all through Daisy that they were
just as stingy and selfish in the kitchen, and that his meals were now
so absurdly few and plain. It was very ungrateful of her, for he had
gone out of his way to be polite and attentive to her. When he thought
of her behaviour to him he felt strongly inclined to sulk, but somehow
he did not actually go so far as that. He liked Daisy; she was pretty
for one thing, and Don always preferred pretty people, and then she
stroked him in a very superior and soothing manner. Besides this, he
respected her: she had been intrusted with the duty of punishing him on
more than one occasion, and _her_ slaps really hurt, while it was
hopeless to try to soften her heart by trying to lick the chastising
hands--a manoeuvre which was always effective with poor Miss Millikin.
So he contented himself with letting her see that though he did not
understand her conduct towards him, he was willing to overlook it for
the present.

'What a wonderful improvement in the dear dog!' Miss Millikin remarked
one morning at breakfast, after Don had been on short commons for a
week or two. 'Really, Daisy, I begin to think you were quite right about
him.'

'Oh, I'm _sure_ I was,' said Daisy, who always had great confidence in
her own judgment.

'Yes,' continued her aunt, 'and, now he's so much better--just this one
small bit, Daisy?' Don's eyes already had a green glitter in them and
his mouth was watering.

'No, Aunt Sophy,' said Daisy, 'I wouldn't--really. He's better without
anything.'

'I wish that girl was gone!' reflected poor Don, as he went sulkily back
to his basket. 'It's enough to make a dog steal, up