and to wander from morn to
dewy eve in solitude and independence; though whether he went up
mountains to admire the view, or visited ruins and waterfalls, or spent
his days hunting rabbits, no one at Applethwaite Cottage could even
pretend to guess.

'_One_ good thing, Aunt Sophy,' said Daisy complacently one evening, a
little later, 'I've quite cured Don of being troublesome at meals!'

'He couldn't be _troublesome_ if he tried, dear,' said Miss Millikin
with mild reproof; 'but I must say you have succeeded quite
wonderfully--how _did_ you do it?'

'Why,' said Daisy, 'I spoke to him exactly as if he could understand
every word, and I made him thoroughly see that he was only wasting his
time by sitting up and begging for things. And you got to believe it at
last, didn't you, dear?' she added to Don, who was lying stretched out
on the rug.

Don pricked the ear that was uppermost, and then uttered a heavy sigh,
which smote his mistress to the heart.

'Daisy,' she said, 'it's _no_ use--I _must_ give him something. Poor
pet, he deserves it for being so good and patient all this time. One
biscuit, Daisy?'

Even Daisy relented: 'Well--a _very_ plain one, then. Let me give it to
him, auntie?'

The biscuit was procured, and Daisy, with an express intimation that
this was a very particular indulgence, tendered it to the deserving
terrier.

He half raised his head, sniffed at it--and then fell back again with
another weary little sigh. Daisy felt rather crushed. 'I'm afraid he's
cross with me,' she said; 'you try, Aunt Sophy.' Aunt Sophy tried, but
with no better success, though Don wagged his tail feebly to express
that he was not actuated by any personal feeling in the matter--he had
no appetite, that was all.

'Daisy,' said Miss Millikin, with something more like anger than she
generally showed, 'I was very wrong to listen to you about the diet.
It's perfectly plain to me that by checking Don's appetite as we have we
have done him serious harm. You can see for yourself that he is past
eating anything at all now. Cook told me to-day that he had scarcely
touched his meals lately. And yet he's stouter than ever--_isn't_ he?'

Daisy was forced to allow that this was so. 'But what can it be?' she
said.

'It's _disease_,' said her aunt, very solemnly. 'I've read over and over
again that corpulence has nothing whatever to do with the amount of food
one eats. And, oh! Daisy, I don't want to blame you, dear--but I'm
afr