Things now went on much more smoothly with Ella; Miss Layton's presence being a restraint upon her aunt as well as upon Ella. Miss Prudence still scolded, for she had indulged the habit so long that it had become second nature to her to do so, but not so continually as formerly, and Ella bore it more patiently.
"How do you get along with this child at school, Miss Layton?" asked aunt Prudence one day. "Don't you find her rather unmanageable sometimes? Mr. Burton used to make great complaints of her, and I frequently have much trouble with her myself."
"No, Miss Clinton, I have had very little trouble with Ella. She is always obedient, and though she is careless and quick-tempered, I find that when reasoned with kindly, she is always sorry for her faults and anxious to try to do better."
"Well, I don't see why it is that she behaves so much better for strangers than for her own aunt. I'm sure I've tried my best to make a good child of her, but whenever I reprove her, instead of seeming sorry for her faults, she is very apt to fly into a passion. You've no idea how bad she can be, for she has behaved remarkably well—that is, for her—since you've been in the house. And yet I can't think it's altogether because you are a stranger, for she must have got pretty well acquainted with you by this time, going to school to you every day, and she didn't mind showing out her badness to Mr. Burton just the same as to me."
"No, Miss Clinton, I don't think it is because I am a stranger; I think Ella is a very affectionate child, and can be very easily ruled by kindness."
"But you scold her, don't you?"
"I do not speak to her in an angry, impatient way. If you speak to a child in the loud, angry tones of passion, it rouses the same feelings in his breast, and instead of making him penitent on account of his misconduct, excites a feeling of rebellion against your authority. But if you speak mildly and kindly, in a way that shows him that you do it for his good, and not because his faults annoy and provoke you, you will generally find your admonitions have a very different effect."
"Well, I don't know; but I think when children are bad, they ought to be scolded; and whipped too, sometimes."
"They certainly ought to be reproved, Miss Clinton, but not scolded; at least not in my sense of the word. Some people, I believe, include all reproof under that head, but when I speak of scolding, I only mean loud and angry, or fretful and unreasonable fault-finding, and that, I really believe, never benefitted anybody."
"And you don't whip, either, I suppose, for most folks think that's worse than scolding."