now.'

'No,' said Daisy, 'I won't tell you my plan, auntie, but it's better
than whipping.'

And all this time the unconscious Don was wearing an expression of
uncomplaining suffering, and looking meekly sorry for himself, with no
suspicion in the world that he had been found out.

Next day he felt much better, and as the morning was bright he thought
that, after all, he might manage another steamer trip; his appetite had
come back, and his breath was not nearly so short as it had been. He
was just making modestly for the gate when Daisy stopped him. 'Where are
you going, sir?' she inquired.

Don rolled over instantly with all his legs in the air and a feeble
apology in his eye.

'I want you for just one minute first,' said Daisy politely, and carried
him into the morning-room. Was he going to be whipped?--she couldn't
have the heart--an invalid like him! He tried to protest by his
whimpering.

But Daisy did nothing of the kind; she merely took something that was
flat and broad and white, and fastened it round his neck with a very
ornamental bow and ribbon. Then she opened the French windows, and said
in rather a chilly voice, 'Now run away and get on your nasty steamer
and beg, and see what you get by it!'

That seemed, as far as he could tell, very sensible advice, and, oddly
enough, it was exactly what he had been intending to do. It did not
strike him as particularly strange that Daisy should know, because Don
was a dog that didn't go very deeply into matters unless he was obliged.

He trotted off at an easy pace down to the village, getting hungrier
every minute, and hoping that the people on the steamer would have
brought nice things to-day, when, close to the turning that led to the
landing-stage, he met Jock, and was naturally obliged to stop for a few
moments' conversation.

He was not at all pleased to see him notwithstanding, for I am sorry to
say that Don's greediness had so grown upon him of late that he was
actually afraid that his humble friend (who was a little slow to find
out when he wasn't wanted) would accompany him on to the steamboat, and
then of course the good things would have to be divided.

However, Don was a dog that was always scrupulously polite, even to his
fellow-dogs, and he did not like to be rude now.

'Hullo!' said Jock (in dogs' language of course, but I have reason to
believe that what follows is as nearly as possible what was actually
said). 'What's the matter with y