"Had her own way in everything," "Her parents gratify her every whim," "She is surrounded by adults who indulge her too much," "Humoured," "Petted," "Coddled," are some of the expressions frequently employed to describe the parental treatment. Many of the answers sent to Doctor Bohannon also testify to an over-anxiety with respect to the child's welfare that might easily give rise to undue feelings of self-importance or to an unhealthy habit of introspection. "His mother was always unduly anxious about him when he was out of her sight," "She is thought to be quite delicate, and great care is taken of her; she is kept in a warm room and seldom allowed to go out," "His home treatment has made a baby of him," may fairly be cited as typical statements returned by Doctor Bohannon's respondents. Is it any wonder that the average only child grows up deficient in initiative and self-reliance? Is it any wonder that, under the stress of some sudden shock, he reacts badly, allowing himself to be overwhelmed by it, even to the extent of perhaps becoming a neurasthenic wreck? In short, can it be doubted that the handicap under which he too often has to struggle painfully through life is not a handicap imposed by Nature but is solely of his parents' making? Sometimes this is all too clearly appreciated in later life by the child himself, and the parental error is bitterly resented; or, if the sense of filial piety be sufficiently strong, is splendidly excused. As in this fragment from an autobiographical statement by an only child: "Of the selfishness of which a frank woman accused me, my parents were, up to that time, quite as unconscious as I. She had asked my mother to drive with her to the home of a friend in a neighbouring town, where the two were invited to spend the night. My mother declined, on the ground that I, at that time about nine, could not comb my hair and pin my collar properly for school in the morning; and as we then had no maid and my father could at best only have buttoned my frock, the objection seemed insurmountable. But the family friend called me by the ugly title of naughty, selfish little girl, and chided mother for allowing me to monopolise her time, contending that she was making me selfish and dependent. "Perhaps she was. But I protest that it could hardly have been otherwise, considering that she had in full measure the world-old desire of mothers to spend themselves for their children, and only one child to spend herself on. It had not occurred to my mother, I am confident, that her habit of ministering to me constantly was pampering; nor had I, in going to her for services that I might easily have learned to perform for myself, made demands in the manner of the arrogant spoiled child."[4]