In dealing with individual character, faults, and weakness Miss Beale showed no common tact, and often surpassing astuteness. To begin with, she was herself so well disciplined, so well attuned to the highest thought of work for others, that probably she did not even feel irritated by the errors and mistakes of her children. Certainly she never showed annoyance. It is impossible even to think of her being satirical or sarcastic either in teaching or in dealing with faults of manner or character. She would have considered it unpardonable in an under-teacher to be so, almost as reprehensible as to treat or speak of a child as stupid. She had indeed a special love for ‘ugly ducklings,’ in whom she would frequently perceive and draw out a latent swanhood. Some things—such as what she termed the ‘petty larceny of her time’ by those who prolonged an interview by aimless small talk—did irritate her; but she would no more have been annoyed by the shortcomings of a child than a doctor would be at the illness of a patient. Though able to adapt herself spontaneously to individual characteristics, she had certain distinct lines along which she worked. Dealing with ordinary childish faults she would make no appeal on high religious grounds, used no set or stock phrases. Always, in big and little things, she would show the child some ground for expecting right action from her, pointing out something probably connected with her home which, a legitimate source of satisfaction, should be also a spur to do well. Or she would treat a rebellious act in such a way as to rob it of all its delight. An amusing instance of this was told by a writer in the _Guardian_ of November 21, 1906: ‘On one occasion a very clever student, with an unruly temper, refused, because some one had annoyed her, to eat her breakfast on the day of an important examination. Her form mistress begged Miss Beale to persuade the girl to have at least some milk. She was sent to Miss Beale, and was greatly startled by—“I hear you are fasting to-day; for a temper like yours it is probably a wise discipline.” Nothing more was said, but the girl did not refuse her luncheon.’ Such homœopathic treatment was sometimes also applied to idleness, a rare fault in a schoolgirl. It was, in ancient days, occasionally known in the Third Division at Cheltenham. Quite rarely, in consequence, a little girl would be allowed to do nothing but sit still all the morning. No one had a chance of showing obstinacy. It was a relief to more than one young teacher to be told that ‘You must never let a child have the satisfaction of holding out against you.’ If such a thing did occur, there was no contest, no opposition of superior power on the part of a teacher; a few, very few words from the Lady Principal would make the child see the futility and silliness of her attitude.