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 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.