Helen didn't come up to my room after supper, and I didn't see
her again until breakfast-time. She was at her place when I came
down. She had put the napkin under her chin, instead of pinning
it at the back, as was her custom. She called my attention to the
new arrangement, and when I did not object she seemed pleased and
patted herself. When she left the dining-room, she took my hand
and patted it. I wondered if she was trying to "make up." I
thought I would try the effect of a little belated discipline. I
went back to the dining-room and got a napkin. When Helen came
upstairs for her lesson, I arranged the objects on the table as
usual, except that the cake, which I always give her in bits as a
reward when she spells a word quickly and correctly, was not
there. She noticed this at once and made the sign for it. I
showed her the napkin and pinned it round her neck, then tore it
off and threw it on the floor and shook my head. I repeated this
performance several times. I think she understood perfectly well;
for she slapped her hand two or three times and shook her head.
We began the lesson as usual. I gave her an object, and she
spelled the name (she knows twelve now). After spelling half the
words, she stopped suddenly, as if a thought had flashed into her
mind, and felt for the napkin. She pinned it round her neck and
made the sign for cake (it didn't occur to her to spell the word,
you see). I took this for a promise that if I gave her some cake
she would be a good girl. I gave her a larger piece than usual,
and she chuckled and patted herself.


April 3, 1887.