Mother (petting his hand): "Well—I suppose you're still thinking about the bird—and there's still a little of that old temper left. But wait awhile and think it over. And—I'm going to tell you something that I think would be awfully nice. Sometime, if you did happen to feel like it and went to Delia of your own accord and explained to her how you lost your temper and were sorry for calling her that awful name——?"
Boy (looking away, thinking, then turning to her, hesitating and shaking his head): "I couldn't mummy, please,—I couldn't—not now——"
Mother: "I'm sure she'd appreciate it, a lot. Poor Delia—she tries so hard and she's so sensitive and she's really so fond of you. Of course, I wouldn't want you to say you were sorry, unless it was really true. It's only a sham and a humbug to make people say things they don't mean. It's entirely a question of how you feel about it, in your own heart. And nobody can decide that for you but yourself."
After an incident of this sort, how would a mother feel if Delia told her, the next afternoon, that Master Bob had come to her and apologized like a little gentleman—and he'd been so sweet and dear—and he'd kissed her—and it touched her so, it broke her all up and she couldn't help crying?
If we take the pains to examine a little every-day example of this sort, it is not difficult to see that it involves some fairly important feelings. First of all, it encourages a feeling of faith—faith in mother, in her sympathy and understanding and justice. Then consideration for others—self-control—and finally conscience, what the inner nature, of its own accord, feels to be right. All these may be of vital account in the formation of a fine character, and they may be brought into play by this sort of treatment just as effectually as by a beating.
Of course it cannot be assumed, or expected, that the immediate result in any given case will prove so satisfactory. Sooner or later, with nearly all children, there are sure to come times when gentle explanations will not suffice. Something more impressive has to be resorted to.
This final resort was, in fact, faintly indicated in our example—but so faintly, that it might be overlooked.
It was carefully explained to the boy that if he would not agree to obey Delia, when he went out walking with her, then he could not enjoy the privilege of going out walking with Delia. This is a principle of punishment, which may be applied to any and all cases, to almost any desired degree.
And it has at least one great advantage over other kinds of punishment. It can be made to avoid all danger of seeming unjust and arousing resentment.
Let us look into the application of this principle with reference to the more serious problems of misconduct which are liable to arise.