disgrace so
deeply she would not have had the heart to send him out with that
tell-tale card around his neck; but then he would not have received a
very wholesome lesson, and would certainly have eaten himself into a
serious illness before the summer ended, so perhaps it was all for the
best.

This time Don did _not_ go the whole round of the lake; he had had
quite enough of it long before the _Cygnet_ reached Highwood, but he did
not get a chance until they came to Winderside, and then, watching his
opportunity, he gave his tormentors the slip at last.

* * * * *

Two hours later, as Daisy and her aunt sat sketching under the big
holm-oak on the lawn, a dusty little guilty dog stole sneakingly in
under the garden-gate. It was Don, and he had run all the way from
Winderside, which, though he did not appreciate it, had done him a vast
amount of good. 'Oh!' cried Daisy, dropping her paint-brush to clap her
hands gleefully, 'Look, Aunt Sophy, he has had his lesson already!'

Miss Millikin was inclined to be shocked when she read the ticket. 'It
was too bad of you, Daisy!' she said; 'I would never have allowed it if
I had known. Come here, Don, and let me take the horrid thing off.'

'Not yet, please, auntie!' pleaded Daisy, 'I want him to be quite cured,
and it will take at least till bedtime. Then we'll make it up to him.'

But Don had understood at last. It was this detestable thing, then, that
had been telling tales of him and spoiling all his fun! Very well, let
him find himself alone with it--just once! And he went off very soberly
into the shrubbery, whence in a few minutes came sounds of 'worrying.'

In half an hour Don came out again; his collar was gone, and in his
mouth he trailed a long piece of chewed ribbon, which he dropped with
the queerest mixture of penitence and reproach at Daisy's feet. After
that, of course, it was impossible to do anything but take him into
favour at once, and he was generous enough to let Daisy see that he bore
her no malice for the trick she had played him.

What became of the card no one ever discovered; perhaps Don had buried
it, though Daisy has very strong suspicions that he ate it as his best
revenge.

But what is more important is that from that day he became a slim and
reformed dog, refusing firmly to go on board a steamer on any pretence
whatever, and only consenting to sit up after much coaxing, and as a
mark of particular condescensi