"Did you add anything?"
He avoided my eye.
"Of course I said that I trusted them to carry on the school as usual," he admitted reluctantly.
"Thereby showing them that you didn't trust them at all," I explained. "Mac, you must have been a thundering strict disciplinarian. The kiddies are dead afraid of you. I fear that you'll never manage to have self-government. This fear of you must be broken, and you've got to break it."
"But how?" he asked helplessly.
"By coming down off your pedestal. You must become one of the gang.
One dramatic exhibition will do it."
"What do you mean?"
"Smash a window; chuck books about the room . . . anything to break this idea that you are an exalted being whose eye is like God's always ready to see evil."
Mac looked annoyed and injured.
"What good will my fooling do?" he asked.