Not only little children but those who are growing up resent these mannerisms and professional ways.  They, too, ask for a certain spontaneity and like to find a real person whom they can understand.  Abstract principles do not appeal to them, but they can understand and appreciate character, not in one type and pattern alone, for every character that has life and truth commands their respect and is acceptable in one way if not in another.  It is not the bright colours of character alone which attract them, they often keep a lifelong remembrance of those whose qualities are anything but showy.  They look for fairness in those who govern them, but if they find this they can accept a good measure of severity.  They respect unflinching uprightness and are quick to detect the least deviation from it.  They prefer to be taken seriously on their own ground; things in general are so incomprehensible that it only makes matters worse to be approached with playful methods and facetious invitations into the unknown, for who can tell what educational ambush for their improvement may be concealed behind these demonstrations.  They give their confidence more readily to grave and quiet people who do not show too rapturous delight in their performances, or surprise at their opinions, or—­especially—­distress at their ignorance.  They admire with lasting admiration those who are hard on themselves and take their troubles without comment or complaint.  They admire courage, and they can appreciate patience if it does not seem to be conscious of itself.  But they do not look up to a character in which mildness so predominates that it cannot be roused to indignation and even anger in a good cause.  A power of being roused is felt as a force in reserve, and the knowledge that it is there is often enough to maintain peace and order without any need for interference or remonstrance.  They are offended by a patience which looks like weariness, determined if it were at the last gasp to “improve the occasion” and say something of educational profit.  To “improve the occasion” really destroys the opportunity; it is like a too expansive invitation to birds to come and feed, which drives them off in a nutter.  Birds come most willingly when crumbs are thrown as it were by accident while the benefactor looks another way; and young minds pick up gratefully a suggestion which seems to fall by the way, a mere hint that things are understood and cared about, that there is safety beyond the thin ice if one trusts and believes, that “all shall be well” if people will be true to their best thoughts.  They can understand these assurances and accept them when something more explicit would drive them back to bar the door against intruders.  All these are truisms to those who have observed children.  The misfortune is that in spite of the prominence given to training of teachers, of the new name of “Child Study” and its manuals, there are many who teach children without reaching their real selves.