condemn him, as we are often tempted to do, by calling his
fabrication a "lie," for that at once puts it in the same class as
deliberate deceit for a selfish purpose. There is really no harm in
this class of lies, unless, as the child grows older, it becomes
apparent that he lets his wishes and preferences interfere with his
vision of what is actually going on. In such cases the remedy is not
to be found in the denunciation of lying, but in giving the child
opportunity to experience realities that cannot be treated
untruthfully. To this end various kinds of hand work and scientific
study have been useful. It is impossible for the child to cheat the
tools of the workshop or his instruments of precision; it is
impossible to make a spool of thread do the work of two or three; or
one cannot make the paint go farther by applying the brush faster.
It is concrete reality that can teach the imaginative child reality;
in the things he learns from books there is no check upon the
imagined and the desired--one kind of outcome is as likely and as
true as another. But in the experience of the workaday world causes
and consequences cannot be so easily altered by a trick of words.

Investigation has shown that the sentimental or heroic element is
one that appeals to children so strongly that it may often lead to
what we adults would call lies, or it would seem to the child to
justify lying. The confession to a deed that he has not committed,
for the purpose of saving a weaker companion from punishment or
injury, seems to be a type of lie that appeals strongly to most
children. Again and again have boys--and girls, too--declared
stoically that they were guilty of some dereliction of which they
were quite innocent, to shield a friend. And most children not only
admire such acts, but will seek to defend them on moral grounds,
even when they are old enough to know what a _lie_ is. The