[Sidenote: Mimicry of Walk]
George had an unusual gift of ability to mimic others. Even at the age
of nine years he could easily entertain his classmates by imitating
various men of the town. His teacher, Miss Giles, was a stout little
woman whose arms seemed not to hang closely enough to her body, and as
she walked she swung them as if they propelled her through the air. Her
voice was fretful whenever she repeated a command, which was often, or
whenever she expected disobedience. One day as he followed Miss Giles
across the room, the impulse seized him to mimic her gait. This he did,
with marked success. When he returned to his seat he began to study her
mannerisms with a view to entertaining others. At recess he showed the
boys how she held her hands and nodded her head while she talked. The
next step was to imitate her voice. This he did successfully.
One day, about ten minutes before the afternoon session began, Miss
Giles was sitting at her desk, grading penmanship papers, when Marie
Allbaugh rushed in and said: “Miss Giles, come out here and listen to
George. He’s playin’ like he was you.”
Miss Giles hardly understood what Marie wished to tell her, but she
followed the child to the front yard where a crowd of children were
around George. Unnoticed by most of them, she joined in the circle in
time to hear George say in a very good imitation of her voice,
“Children, quietly take your books,” then in a fretful tone with a
frown, “I said _quietly_.” “Whoo-ee,” shouted one of the listeners, and
all joined in a laugh when suddenly they noticed Miss Giles standing
there.
“George, march right into the house,” said she in her harshest tones.
“You shall not have another recess until you have apologized to me for
this.”
Soon the bell sounded for the afternoon session. When the recess period
came, George started to walk out with the other children.
Miss Giles saw him, and said, “George, take your seat.”
After the other children had all left the room, she went to George’s
seat and said, “Are you ready to apologize?” Just then a shout came
through the window from the children at play. George wanted badly to
join them. He said, “I don’t know how.”
“Say, ‘Miss Giles, I’m sorry I mocked you at noon,’” said she. George
considered. If he said he was sorry he would be telling a falsehood. He
would try to be excused without that so he said:
“Mother lets me play like I was other people. _She_ don’t care, so I
thought you wouldn’t.”
“But, George, you must always show respect for your teacher.”
George meditated again. The shouts of the children at play gave him an
idea. Wasn’t he sorry he did it? Wasn’t that just what was keeping him
indoors while others were at play? Of course, he didn’t want to stay in,
so of course he was sorry he had done the thing that kept him in. With a
bright, smiling look at Miss Giles, he said: “I am sorry, Miss Giles,
that I mocked you at noon.” It looked like a sincere apology and it
passed for such.
“You may go,” said she. She considered the case well handled.