"No," I said at last, "I can't do it. My presence would distract the children, and . . . they won't smash all the windows in front of a stranger. You want my support, you dodger!" But I would give ten pounds to be in Mac's schoolroom to-morrow morning. * * * * * I went out this morning and sat on the school wall and smoked my pipe. I strained my ears for the first murmur of the approaching storm. Not a sound came from the schoolroom. "Mac has funked it after all," I groaned, and went in to help Mrs. Macdonald to pare the potatoes. When Mac came over at dinner-time his face wore a thoughtful look. "You coward!" I cried. "Coward!" he laughed. "Why, man, the scheme is in full swing!" Then I asked him to tell me all about it. "Your knowledge of children is all bunkum," he began. "You said there would be a row when I announced that I gave up authority." "And wasn't there?" "Not a vestige of one. The kids stared at me with open mouth, and . . ." "And what?" "Oh, they simply got out their books and began their reading lesson. As quiet as mice too." "And do you mean to tell me that it made no difference?" I asked. "None whatever. I tell you they just went on with the timetable as usual." "But didn't they talk to each other more?" "There wasn't a whisper." I considered for a minute. "What exactly did you say to them when you announced that they were to have self-government?" "I just said what you told me last night." "Did you add anything?" He avoided my eye. "Of course I said that I trusted them to carry on the school as usual," he admitted reluctantly. "Thereby showing them that you didn't trust them at all," I explained. "Mac, you must have been a thundering strict disciplinarian. The kiddies are dead afraid of you. I fear that you'll never manage to have self-government. This fear of you must be broken, and you've got to break it." "But how?" he asked helplessly. "By coming down off your pedestal. You must become one of the gang. One dramatic exhibition will do it." "What do you mean?" "Smash a window; chuck books about the room . . . anything to break this idea that you are an exalted being whose eye is like God's always ready to see evil." Mac looked annoyed and injured. "What good will my fooling do?" he asked. "But," I protested seriously, "it's essential. You simply must break your authority if you are to have a free school. There can be no real self-expression if you are always standing by to stamp out slacking and noise." "But," he protested, "didn't I tell 'em I was giving up my authority?" "Yes, but they don't believe you. You've got the eye of an authority." He was by this time getting rather indignant. "I can't go the length you do," he said sourly. "I'm not an anarchist." "In that case I'd advise you to chuck the experiment, Mac," I said with an indifferent shrug of my shoulders. The shrug nettled Mac; he is one of the bull-dog breed, and I saw his lips set.