and things--he was everybody's pet; we were
all jealous of one another for the honour of feeding him. The second
time we brought buns on purpose. But we quite thought he belonged to
the steamer.'

Young Mr. Netherby laughed. 'So _that_ is how he took the air! I thought
I wasn't far wrong,' he said.

'Put him back in the cart, Daisy,' said Miss Millikin severely; 'I can't
bear to look at him.'

Don did his best to follow this dialogue, but all he could make out was
that it was about himself, and that he was being as usual exceedingly
admired. So he sat and looked as good and innocent and interesting as he
knew how. Just then he felt that he would almost rather they did _not_
offer him anything to eat--at least not anything very sweet and rich,
for he was still not at all well. It was a relief to be back in the cart
and in peace again, though he wondered why Daisy didn't kiss the top of
his head as she had done several times in carrying him to the lawn. This
time she held him at a distance, and said nothing but two words, which
sounded suspiciously like 'You _pig_!' as she put him down.

Miss Millikin was very grave and silent as they drove home. 'I can't
trust myself to speak about it, Daisy,' she said; 'if--if it was true,
it shows such an utter want of principle--such deceit; and Don used to
be so honest and straightforward! What if we make inquiries at the pier?
It--it may be all a mistake.'

They stopped for this purpose at Amblemere. 'Ay, Miss Millikin, mum, he
cooms ahn boord reglar, does that wee dug,' said the old boatman, 'and
a' makes himsel' rare an' frien'ly, a' do--they coddle him oop fine,
amang 'em. Eh, but he's a smart little dug, we quite look for him of a
morning coomin' for his constitutionil, fur arl the worl' like a
Chreestian!'

'Like a very _greedy_ Christian!' said his disgusted mistress. 'Daisy,'
she said, when she returned to the pony-cart, 'it's all true! I--I never
have been so deceived in any one; and the worst of it is, I don't know
how to punish him, or how to make him feel what a disgraceful trick this
is. Nobody else's dog I ever heard of made his mistress publicly absurd
in this way. It's so--so ungrateful!'

'Aunt Sophy,' said Daisy, 'I've an idea. Will you leave him to me, and
pretend you don't suspect anything? I _will_ cure him this time!'

'You--you won't want to whip him?' said Miss Millikin, 'because, though
it's all his own doing, he really is not well enough for it just