This and the following incident show the play of social reaction upon conduct. For the approbation of a friendly, trusting man, who showed that he believed Oldham to be a boy of honor, Oldham cheerfully did his task honestly and well; to old John, distrustful and discourteous, Oldham responded with the trickery he invited. Oldham should have been more deeply grounded in principles of honesty, of course; he should have been indifferent to a childish, ill, old man’s acidity. But Oldham was very human in the personality of his attitude; the world abounds in people like him. ILLUSTRATION (EIGHTH GRADE) As Oldham went through the outer room to put away his broom and dustpan, Mr. Miller, the principal, entered. [Sidenote: A Better Method] “Hello!” he called out, cheerily. “So you’re the boy who’s helping out in a pinch, are you? I know John Smith appreciates that, and so do I. This floor looks as though you might have swept it—not a speck to be seen. Did you?” “Yes, sir.” Oldham’s checks flushed with pleasure. “Good, sincere work. Every corner clean. Well, I must go on up. I came down to see how John here was getting on, but since you’re helping him I needn’t stay longer. Aren’t you about through, yourself?” “In a few minutes, Mr. Miller,” Oldham replied. “I have to do the furnace-room yet.” And he turned back to do a bad job over. (2) _Adolescence._ In learning the great lesson of altruistic living it is not strange if young persons sometimes fail to see their acts in clear perspective. Only time and more experience can furnish that perspective. The following incident illustrates an exaggerated ideal of altruistic service on the part of a high school boy who sacrificed his scholarship for athletics. CASE 137 (HIGH SCHOOL) [Sidenote: Overdoing Altruism] Oscar Colegrove was the most popular boy in the Vernon High School. His kindness and courtesy won the girls, his unusual size and strength were admired by the younger boys, and his manliness won the love and respect of the older boys, but he was not studious enough to gain the approval of his teachers. He was an especial trial to Mr. Watkins, teacher of Caesar. He had never understood English grammar—the Latin forms meant nothing to him. When he recited, everybody was glad when he got through. But Oscar was a famous basketball player. Mr. Watkins had decided to make him carry his Latin or drop out of athletics. He had revolved in his mind the best method of making this fact known, but had come to no definite conclusion, when fate seemed to take things in hand.