To-night Mac told me a story about old Simpson the dominie over at Pikerton. Last summer an English bishop was touring Scotland, and one morning he drove up to Simpson's school in a big car, flung open the door and walked in.
"Good morning, children," he cried.
The bairns sat gazing at him in awe. He turned to Simpson.
"My good sir," he protested, "when I enter a village school in England, the children all rise and say: 'Good morning, sir'!"
"Possibly," said Simpson dryly, "but in Scotland children are not accustomed to see strangers walk into a school. Scots visitors always knock at the door and await the headmaster's invitation to enter."
* * * * *
Mac and I were talking about education to-night.
"I never heard you mention the teaching side of education," he remarked. "Giving a child freedom isn't enough, you know. What about History and Geography and so on?"
"I think they are jolly well taught in many schools, Mac," I said. "It is the psychological side of education that is a thousand years behind the times."
"Yes," said Mac doubtfully, "but suppose you have a school of your own,
I presume you'd teach the English yourself?"