“Now what do you suppose the dog did?” It may be that successive failures had disheartened the listeners; it may be that the very range presented alike to the dog and them for choice dazzled their imaginations. At any rate they made no answer. “Nobody knows what the dog did?” repeated the story-teller encouragingly. “What would you do if you saw a little white kitten like that?” Again a silence. Then Philip remarked gloomily: “I’d pull its tail.” Even this might have been passed over had not the youngest assistant, who had not yet lost her sense of humor, giggled convulsively. This, though unnoticed by the visitor, was plainly observed by fully half the children, with the result that when Mrs. R. B. M. Smith inquired pathetically, “And what do the rest of you think? I hope _you_ are not so cruel as that little boy!” a jealous desire to share Philip’s success prompted the quick response: “_I’d_ pull it, too!” Miss Hunt was oblivious to the story, which finished somehow, the dog having done little, and the kitten, if anything, less. She was lost in a miserable wonder what was the matter with them? Alas! she could not know that the root of all the evil was planted in the breast of Philip, the demon-ridden. His slightest effort was blessed with a success beyond his hopes. He had but to raise his finger, and his mates rallied all unconsciously to his support. Nor did he require thought; on the instant diabolical inspiration seized him, and his conception materialized almost before he had grasped it himself. The very children of light were made to minister unto him, as in the case of his next achievement. With a feeling of absolute safety the teacher called upon Eddy Brown to lead the waiting circle in a game. Eddy was one of the stand-bys of the kindergarten. He was a little old for it, but being incapable of promotion owing to his inability to grasp the rudiments of primary work, he continued to adorn his present sphere. It would almost seem that Fröbel had Eddy Brown in mind in elaborating his educational schemes, for his development, according to kindergarten standards, was so absolutely normal as to verge on the extraordinary. He was never _ennuyé_, never cross, never disobedient. He never anticipated; he never saw what you meant before you said it; he never upset the system by inventing anything whatsoever—the vice of the too active-minded. He was perennially surprised at the climaxes of the stories, passionately interested in the games; and clay balls and braided straw represented his wildest dissipations. He sat in his chair till he was told to rise, and remained standing till he was urged to take his seat. His voice, if somewhat off the key, was always prominent in song; his feet, if not always in time, were always in evidence when it was a question of marching. To-day he took the middle of the ring and beamed cheerfully on them all as they swayed back and forth and sang to him: