 How do the children feel about Mr. Henderson?
SCHOENHERR "What would you think," I asked Marjorie over supper, "if I should undertake to lead a junior achievement group this summer?" Some groups have built up tidy little bank accounts which are available for later educational expenses." Marjorie put back her head and laughed, and I was forced to join her, for we both recognize that my understanding and "feel" for commercial matters—if I may use that expression—is almost nonexistent. Mr. McCormack is going to put up fifty dollars to buy any raw materials wanted Back in the old Ridgeville, fifty-odd miles to the south, we had our home almost paid for, when the accident occurred. When Ridgeville moved to its present site, so, of course, did we, which meant starting mortgage payments all over again. This was to be our headquarters and factory for the summer—a roomy unused barn belonging to the parents of one of the group members, Tommy Miller. You're going to decide what to do, and if it's safe and legal and possible to do with the starting capital we have, I'll go along with it and help in any way I can. Mr. McCormack had told me, and in some detail, about the youngsters I'd be dealing with. Mary McCready was a big husky redhead of twelve, with a face full of freckles and an infectious laugh, and Tommy Miller, a few months younger, was just an average, extroverted, well adjusted youngster, noisy and restless, tee-shirted and butch-barbered. You're Dr. Matlack's son, aren't you? The parents had agreed to underwrite lunches at the barn and Betty Miller philosophically assumed the role of commissary officer. It's standard practice for every member of the group to be a company officer. Peter Cope waved it off by remarking that they'd each do what came naturally. It was Mary, finally, who advanced the thought of kites. These latter ideas had made unknowing use of some basic physics, and I'm afraid I relapsed for a few minutes into the role of teacher and told them a little bit about the laws of radiation and absorption of heat. "My," said Marjorie, "they're really smart boys and girls. Four of them were at the barn when I arrived next morning; or rather on the rise of ground just beyond it, and the kite hung motionless and almost out of sight in the pale sky.
 The children like Mr. Henderson, but they know they are smarter than he is.
 The children do not like Mr. Henderson.  The children feel Mr. Henderson is a bit chintzy.  The children feel Mr. Henderson is holding them back from their true potential.  The children like Mr. Henderson, but they know they are smarter than he is.