TOKILLAMOCKINGBIRD

HarperLee

Copyright(C)1960byHarperLee

Copyright(C)renewed1988byHarperLeePublishedbyarrangementwithMcIntoshandOtis,Inc.

DEDICATION

forMr.LeeandAliceinconsiderationofLove&Affection

Lawyers,Isuppose,werechildrenonce.-CharlesLamb

CONTENTS

PARTONEChapter1Chapter2Chapter3Chapter4Chapter5Chapter6Chapter7Chapter8Chapter9Chapter10Chapter11

PARTTWOChapter12Chapter13Chapter14Chapter15Chapter16Chapter17Chapter18Chapter19Chapter20Chapter21Chapter22Chapter23Chapter24Chapter25Chapter26Chapter27Chapter28Chapter29

Chapter30Chapter31

PARTONE

1

Whenhewasnearlythirteen,mybrotherJemgothisarmbadlybrokenattheelbow.Whenithealed,andJem'sfearsofneverbeingabletoplayfootballwereassuaged,hewasseldomself-conscious about his injury. His left arm was somewhatshorterthanhisright;whenhestoodorwalked,thebackofhishandwasatrightanglestohisbody,histhumbparalleltohisthigh.Hecouldn'thavecaredless,solongashecouldpassandpunt.

Whenenoughyearshadgonebytoenableusto lookbackonthem, we sometimes discussed the events leading to hisaccident.ImaintainthattheEwellsstarteditall,butJem,whowas four yearsmy senior, said it started longbefore that.Hesaid itbeganthesummerDillcametous,whenDill firstgaveustheideaofmakingBooRadleycomeout.

Isaid ifhewantedto takeabroadviewof thething, it reallybeganwithAndrewJackson.IfGeneralJacksonhadn'truntheCreeksupthecreek,SimonFinchwouldneverhavepaddleduptheAlabama,andwherewouldwebeifhehadn't?Wewerefartoooldtosettleanargumentwithafist-fight,soweconsultedAtticus.Ourfathersaidwewerebothright.

BeingSoutherners,itwasasourceofshametosomemembersofthefamilythatwehadnorecordedancestorsoneithersideof theBattle ofHastings. Allwe hadwasSimon Finch, a fur-trapping apothecary fromCornwall whose pietywas exceededonlybyhis stinginess. InEngland,Simonwas irritatedby thepersecution of thosewho called themselvesMethodists at thehands of their more liberal brethren, and as Simon called

himself aMethodist, heworkedhiswayacross theAtlantic toPhiladelphia, thence to Jamaica, thence toMobile, and up theSaintStephens.Mindfulof JohnWesley'sstricturesontheuseof many words in buying and selling, Simon made a pilepracticingmedicine,butinthispursuithewasunhappylesthebe tempted intodoingwhatheknewwasnot for thegloryofGod, as the putting on of gold and costly apparel. So Simon,having forgotten his teacher's dictum on the possession ofhuman chattels, bought three slaves and with their aidestablished a homestead on the banks of the Alabama Riversome fortymiles above Saint Stephens. He returned to SaintStephensonlyonce, to findawife,andwithherestablishedaline that ran high to daughters. Simon lived to an impressiveageanddiedrich.

It was customary for the men in the family to remain onSimon'shomestead,Finch'sLanding,andmaketheirlivingfromcotton.Theplacewasself-sufficient:modestincomparisonwiththe empires around it, the Landing nevertheless producedeverything required tosustain lifeexcept ice,wheat flour,andarticlesofclothing,suppliedbyriver-boatsfromMobile.

Simonwouldhaveregardedwithimpotentfurythedisturbancebetween the North and the South, as it left his descendantsstrippedofeverythingbuttheir land,yetthetraditionof livingon the land remained unbroken until well into the twentiethcentury,whenmyfather,AtticusFinch,wenttoMontgomerytoread law, and his younger brother went to Boston to studymedicine.TheirsisterAlexandrawastheFinchwhoremainedattheLanding:shemarriedataciturnmanwhospentmostofhistimelyinginahammockbytheriverwonderingifhistrot-lineswerefull.

When my father was admitted to the bar, he returned toMaycombandbeganhispractice.Maycomb,sometwentymileseast of Finch's Landing, was the county seat of MaycombCounty.Atticus'soffice in thecourthousecontained littlemorethan a hat rack, a spittoon, a checkerboard and an unsullied

CodeofAlabama.HisfirsttwoclientswerethelasttwopersonshangedintheMaycombCountyjail.Atticushadurgedthemtoacceptthestate'sgenerosityinallowingthemtopleadGuiltytosecond-degree murder and escape with their lives, but theywereHaverfords,inMaycombCountyanamesynonymouswithjackass. The Haverfords had dispatched Maycomb's leadingblacksmith in a misunderstanding arising from the allegedwrongfuldetentionofamare,wereimprudentenoughtodoitinthepresenceofthreewitnesses,andinsistedthatthe-son-of-a-bitch-had-it-coming-to-him was a good enough defense foranybody. They persisted in pleadingNot Guilty to first-degreemurder, so there was nothing much Atticus could do for hisclients except be present at their departure, an occasion thatwasprobablythebeginningofmyfather'sprofounddistasteforthepracticeofcriminallaw.

During his first five years in Maycomb, Atticus practicedeconomymore than anything; for several years thereafter heinvestedhisearningsinhisbrother'seducation.JohnHaleFinchwas ten years younger than my father, and chose to studymedicine at a time when cotton was not worth growing; butafter getting Uncle Jack started, Atticus derived a reasonableincome from the law. He liked Maycomb, he was MaycombCountybornandbred;heknewhispeople,theyknewhim,andbecauseofSimonFinch'sindustry,Atticuswasrelatedbybloodormarriagetonearlyeveryfamilyinthetown.

Maycombwasanoldtown,butitwasatiredoldtownwhenIfirstknewit.Inrainyweatherthestreetsturnedtoredslop;grass grew on the sidewalks, the courthouse sagged in thesquare.Somehow,itwashotterthen:ablackdogsufferedonasummer'sday;bonymuleshitchedtoHoovercartsflickedfliesin the sweltering shade of the live oaks on the square.Men'sstiffcollarswiltedbynineinthemorning.Ladiesbathedbeforenoon,after their three-o'clocknaps,andbynightfallwere likesoftteacakeswithfrostingsofsweatandsweettalcum.

People moved slowly then. They ambled across the square,

shuffledinandoutofthestoresaroundit,tooktheirtimeabouteverything. A day was twenty-four hours long but seemedlonger. There was no hurry, for there was nowhere to go,nothing to buy and no money to buy it with, nothing to seeoutsidetheboundariesofMaycombCounty.Butitwasatimeofvagueoptimismforsomeof thepeople:MaycombCountyhadrecentlybeentoldthatithadnothingtofearbutfearitself.

We lived on themain residential street in town- Atticus, Jemand I, plus Calpurnia our cook. Jem and I found our fathersatisfactory:heplayedwithus,readtous,andtreateduswithcourteousdetachment.

Calpurnia was something else again. She was all angles andbones;shewasnearsighted;shesquinted;herhandwaswideasabedslatand twiceashard.Shewasalwaysorderingmeoutofthekitchen,askingmewhyIcouldn'tbehaveaswellasJemwhensheknewhewasolder,andcallingmehomewhenIwasn't ready to come. Our battles were epic and one-sided.Calpurniaalwayswon,mainlybecauseAtticusalwaystookherside.ShehadbeenwithuseversinceJemwasborn,andIhadfelthertyrannicalpresenceaslongasIcouldremember.

OurmotherdiedwhenIwastwo,soIneverfeltherabsence.ShewasaGrahamfromMontgomery;Atticusmetherwhenhewas first elected to the state legislature. Hewasmiddle-agedthen,shewas fifteenyearshis junior. Jemwas theproductoftheirfirstyearofmarriage;fouryearslaterIwasborn,andtwoyears laterourmotherdied fromasuddenheartattack.Theysaiditraninherfamily.Ididnotmissher,butIthinkJemdid.Herememberedherclearly,andsometimes in themiddleofagamehewouldsighatlength,thengooffandplaybyhimselfbehind the car-house. When he was like that, I knew betterthantobotherhim.

When I was almost six and Jem was nearly ten, oursummertime boundaries (within calling distance of Calpurnia)were Mrs. Henry Lafayette Dubose's house two doors to the

northofus,andtheRadleyPlacethreedoorstothesouth.Wewere never tempted to break them. The Radley Place wasinhabitedbyanunknownentitythemeredescriptionofwhomwasenoughtomakeusbehavefordaysonend;Mrs.Dubosewasplainhell.

ThatwasthesummerDillcametous.

Earlyonemorningaswewerebeginningourday'splay in thebackyard,JemandIheardsomethingnextdoorinMissRachelHaverford's collardpatch.Wewent to thewire fence to see ifthere was a puppy- Miss Rachel's rat terrier was expecting-insteadwe foundsomeonesitting lookingatus.Sittingdown,hewasn'tmuchhigherthanthecollards.Westaredathimuntilhespoke:

"Hey."

"Heyyourself,"saidJempleasantly.

"I'mCharlesBakerHarris,"hesaid."Icanread."

"Sowhat?"Isaid.

"Ijustthoughtyou'dliketoknowIcanread.Yougotanythingneedsreadin'Icandoit...."

"Howoldareyou,"askedJem,"four-and-a-half?"

"Goin'onseven."

"Shoot nowonder, then," said Jem, jerking his thumb atme."Scoutyonder'sbeenreadin'eversinceshewasborn,andsheain'tevenstartedtoschoolyet.Youlookrightpunyforgoin'onseven."

"I'mlittlebutI'mold,"hesaid.

Jembrushedhishairbacktogetabetterlook."Whydon'tyou

comeover,CharlesBakerHarris?"hesaid."Lord,whataname."

"'s not any funnier'n yours. Aunt Rachel says your name'sJeremyAtticusFinch."

Jem scowled. "I'm big enough to fit mine," he said. "Yourname'slonger'nyouare.Betit'safootlonger."

"FolkscallmeDill,"saidDill,strugglingunderthefence.

"Dobetterifyougooveritinsteadofunderit,"Isaid."Where'dyoucomefrom?"

Dillwas fromMeridian,Mississippi,was spending the summerwith his aunt, Miss Rachel, and would be spending everysummer in Maycomb from now on. His family was fromMaycomb County originally, his mother worked for aphotographerinMeridian,hadenteredhispictureinaBeautifulChildcontestandwonfivedollars.ShegavethemoneytoDill,whowenttothepictureshowtwentytimesonit.

"Don'thaveanypicture showshere,except Jesusones in thecourthousesometimes,"saidJem."Everseeanythinggood?"

DillhadseenDracula,*arevelationthatmovedJemtoeyehimwiththebeginningofrespect."Tellittous,"hesaid.

Dillwasacuriosity.Heworebluelinenshortsthatbuttonedtohis shirt, his hair was snow white and stuck to his head likeduckfluff;hewasayearmyseniorbutItoweredoverhim.Ashetoldustheoldtalehisblueeyeswouldlightenanddarken;his laugh was sudden and happy; he habitually pulled at acowlickinthecenterofhisforehead.

When Dill reduced Dracula to dust, and Jem said the showsounded better than the book, I asked Dill where his fatherwas:"Youain'tsaidanythingabouthim."

"Ihaven'tgotone."

"Ishedead?"

"No..."

"Thenifhe'snotdeadyou'vegotone,haven'tyou?"

DillblushedandJemtoldmetohush,asuresignthatDillhadbeen studied and found acceptable. Thereafter the summerpassed in routine contentment. Routine contentment was:improving our treehouse that rested between giant twinchinaberrytreesinthebackyard,fussing,runningthroughourlist of dramas based on the works of Oliver Optic, VictorAppleton, and Edgar Rice Burroughs. In this matter we wereluckytohaveDill.Heplayedthecharacterpartsformerlythrustuponme-theapeinTarzan,Mr.CrabtreeinTheRoverBoys,Mr.Damon in TomSwift. Thuswe came to knowDill as a pocketMerlin, whose head teemed with eccentric plans, strangelongings,andquaintfancies.

But by the end of August our repertoire was vapid fromcountless reproductions, and itwas then thatDill gaveus theideaofmakingBooRadleycomeout.

TheRadley Place fascinatedDill. In spite of ourwarnings andexplanations it drew him as themoon drawswater, but drewhimnonearerthanthelight-poleonthecorner,asafedistancefrom the Radley gate. There hewould stand, his arm aroundthefatpole,staringandwondering.

TheRadleyPlace jutted intoa sharpcurvebeyondourhouse.Walkingsouth,onefaceditsporch;thesidewalkturnedandranbesidethelot.Thehousewaslow,wasoncewhitewithadeepfrontporchandgreenshutters,buthad longagodarkened tothecolorof theslate-grayyardaround it.Rain-rottedshinglesdroopedovertheeavesoftheveranda;oaktreeskeptthesun

away. The remains of a picket drunkenly guarded the frontyard- a "swept" yard that was never swept- where johnsongrassandrabbit-tobaccogrewinabundance.

Inside the house lived amalevolent phantom. People said heexisted,butJemandIhadneverseenhim.Peoplesaidhewentoutatnightwhenthemoonwasdown,andpeepedinwindows.Whenpeople'sazaleasfroze inacoldsnap, itwasbecausehehadbreathedonthem.AnystealthysmallcrimescommittedinMaycomb were his work. Once the town was terrorized by aseries of morbid nocturnal events: people's chickens andhouseholdpetswerefoundmutilated;althoughtheculpritwasCrazyAddie,whoeventuallydrownedhimselfinBarker'sEddy,peoplestilllookedattheRadleyPlace,unwillingtodiscardtheirinitial suspicions. ANegrowould not pass theRadley Place atnight,hewouldcutacrosstothesidewalkoppositeandwhistleashewalked.TheMaycombschoolgroundsadjoinedthebackoftheRadleylot;fromtheRadleychickenyardtallpecantreesshooktheirfruitintotheschoolyard,butthenutslayuntouchedby the children: Radley pecans would kill you. A baseball hitintotheRadleyyardwasalostballandnoquestionsasked.

Themiseryof thathousebeganmanyyearsbeforeJemandIwere born. The Radleys, welcome anywhere in town, kept tothemselves, a predilection unforgivable in Maycomb. They didnotgotochurch,Maycomb'sprincipalrecreation,butworshipedat home;Mrs. Radley seldom if ever crossed the street for amid-morning coffee break with her neighbors, and certainlynever joinedamissionarycircle.Mr.Radleywalked to townateleven-thirtyeverymorningandcamebackpromptlyattwelve,sometimes carryingabrownpaperbag that theneighborhoodassumedcontainedthefamilygroceries.IneverknewhowoldMr. Radley made his living- Jem said he "bought cotton," apolite termfordoingnothing-butMr.Radleyandhiswifehadlived there with their two sons as long as anybody couldremember.

The shutters and doors of the Radley house were closed on

Sundays,anotherthingalientoMaycomb'sways:closeddoorsmeantillnessandcoldweatheronly.OfalldaysSundaywasthedayforformalafternoonvisiting:ladiesworecorsets,menworecoats,childrenworeshoes.ButtoclimbtheRadleyfrontstepsand call, "He-y," of a Sunday afternoon was something theirneighborsneverdid.TheRadleyhousehadnoscreendoors.Ionce asked Atticus if it ever had any; Atticus said yes, butbeforeIwasborn.

According to neighborhood legend, when the younger Radleyboywas inhis teenshebecameacquaintedwith someof theCunninghams from Old Sarum, an enormous and confusingtribe domiciled in the northern part of the county, and theyformedthenearestthingtoagangeverseeninMaycomb.Theydidlittle,butenoughtobediscussedbythetownandpubliclywarned from threepulpits: theyhungaround thebarbershop;theyrode thebus toAbbottsvilleonSundaysandwent to thepicture show; they attended dances at the county's riversidegambling hell, the Dew-Drop Inn & Fishing Camp; theyexperimentedwithstumpholewhiskey.NobodyinMaycombhadnerve enough to tell Mr. Radley that his boy was in with thewrongcrowd.

Onenight,inanexcessivespurtofhighspirits,theboysbackedaround the square in a borrowed flivver, resisted arrest byMaycomb's ancient beadle, Mr. Conner, and locked him in thecourthouse outhouse. The town decided something had to bedone; Mr. Conner said he knew who each and every one ofthemwas,andhewasboundanddeterminedtheywouldn'tgetaway with it, so the boys came before the probate judge onchargesofdisorderlyconduct,disturbingthepeace,assaultandbattery, and using abusive and profane language in thepresenceandhearingofafemale.ThejudgeaskedMr.Connerwhyheincludedthelastcharge;Mr.ConnersaidtheycussedsoloudhewassureeveryladyinMaycombheardthem.Thejudgedecided tosend theboys to thestate industrial school,whereboysweresometimessentfornootherreasonthantoprovide

themwithfoodanddecentshelter:itwasnoprisonanditwasno disgrace. Mr. Radley thought it was. If the judge releasedArthur,Mr.Radleywould see to it thatArthurgaveno furthertrouble.KnowingthatMr.Radley'swordwashisbond,thejudgewasgladtodoso.

Theotherboysattendedtheindustrialschoolandreceivedthebestsecondaryeducation tobehad in thestate;oneof themeventually worked his way through engineering school atAuburn. The doors of the Radley house were closed onweekdays as well as Sundays, and Mr. Radley's boy was notseenagainforfifteenyears.

But therecameaday,barelywithinJem'smemory,whenBooRadleywasheardfromandwasseenbyseveralpeople,butnotbyJem.HesaidAtticusnevertalkedmuchabouttheRadleys:whenJemwouldquestionhimAtticus'sonlyanswerwasforhimtomindhisownbusinessandlettheRadleysmindtheirs,theyhadarightto;butwhenithappenedJemsaidAtticusshookhisheadandsaid,"Mm,mm,mm."

So Jem receivedmost of his information fromMiss StephanieCrawford,aneighborhoodscold,whosaidsheknewthewholething. According to Miss Stephanie, Boo was sitting in thelivingroom cutting some items from The Maycomb Tribune topaste in his scrapbook. His father entered the room. As Mr.Radleypassedby,Boodrovethescissors intohisparent's leg,pulled them out, wiped them on his pants, and resumed hisactivities.

Mrs.RadleyranscreamingintothestreetthatArthurwaskillingthemall,butwhenthesheriffarrivedhefoundBoostillsittingin the livingroom, cutting up the Tribune. Hewas thirty-threeyearsoldthen.

MissStephaniesaidoldMr.RadleysaidnoRadleywasgoingtoanyasylum,whenitwassuggestedthataseasoninTuscaloosamightbehelpfultoBoo.Boowasn'tcrazy,hewashigh-strung

attimes.Itwasallrighttoshuthimup,Mr.Radleyconceded,butinsistedthatBoonotbechargedwithanything:hewasnota criminal. The sheriff hadn't the heart to put him in jailalongside Negroes, so Boo was locked in the courthousebasement.

Boo'stransitionfromthebasementtobackhomewasnebulousin Jem's memory. Miss Stephanie Crawford said some of thetowncounciltoldMr.Radleythatifhedidn'ttakeBooback,Boowoulddieofmold fromthedamp.Besides,Boocouldnot liveforeveronthebountyofthecounty.

NobodyknewwhatformofintimidationMr.RadleyemployedtokeepBoooutofsight,butJemfiguredthatMr.Radleykepthimchainedtothebedmostofthetime.Atticussaidno, itwasn'tthatsortofthing,thattherewereotherwaysofmakingpeopleintoghosts.

MymemorycamealivetoseeMrs.Radleyoccasionallyopenthefrontdoor,walktotheedgeoftheporch,andpourwateronhercannas.ButeverydayJemandIwouldseeMr.Radleywalkingto and from town. Hewas a thin leatherymanwith colorlesseyes, so colorless they did not reflect light. His cheekbonesweresharpandhismouthwaswide,withathinupperlipandafulllowerlip.MissStephanieCrawfordsaidhewassouprighthetook the word of God as his only law, and we believed her,becauseMr.Radley'sposturewasramrodstraight.

He never spoke to us.Whenhe passedwewould look at theground and say, "Goodmorning, sir," and he would cough inreply.Mr.Radley'seldersonlivedinPensacola;hecamehomeatChristmas,andhewasoneofthefewpersonsweeversawenteror leave theplace.FromthedayMr.Radley tookArthurhome,peoplesaidthehousedied.

ButtherecameadaywhenAtticustoldushe'dwearusoutifwemadeanynoiseintheyardandcommissionedCalpurniatoserveinhisabsenceifsheheardasoundoutofus.Mr.Radley

wasdying.

Hetookhistimeaboutit.Woodensawhorsesblockedtheroadat each end of the Radley lot, straw was put down on thesidewalk, trafficwas diverted to the back street.Dr. ReynoldsparkedhiscarinfrontofourhouseandwalkedtotheRadley'severytimehecalled.JemandIcreptaroundtheyardfordays.Atlastthesawhorsesweretakenaway,andwestoodwatchingfrom the front porch when Mr. Radleymade his final journeypastourhouse.

"There goes the meanest man ever God blew breath into,"murmuredCalpurnia, and she spatmeditatively into theyard.Welookedatherinsurprise,forCalpurniararelycommentedonthewaysofwhitepeople.

The neighborhood thought when Mr. Radley went under Boowouldcomeout,but ithadanother thinkcoming:Boo'selderbrother returned from Pensacola and took Mr. Radley's place.Theonlydifferencebetweenhimandhisfatherwastheirages.Jem said Mr. Nathan Radley "bought cotton," too. Mr. Nathanwouldspeaktous,however,whenwesaidgoodmorning,andsometimeswesawhimcoming fromtownwithamagazine inhishand.

ThemorewetoldDillabouttheRadleys,themorehewantedtoknow,thelongerhewouldstandhuggingthelight-poleonthecorner,themorehewouldwonder.

"Wonderwhathedoesinthere,"hewouldmurmur."Lookslikehe'djuststickhisheadoutthedoor."

Jem said, "He goes out, all right, when it's pitch dark. MissStephanieCrawfordsaidshewokeupinthemiddleofthenightone timeandsawhim lookingstraight through thewindowather...saidhisheadwaslikeaskulllookin'ather.Ain'tyoueverwakedupatnightandheardhim,Dill?Hewalkslikethis-"Jemslidhisfeetthroughthegravel."WhydoyouthinkMissRachel

locksupsotightatnight?I'veseenhistracksinourbackyardmanyamornin', andonenight Iheardhimscratchingon thebackscreen,buthewasgonetimeAtticusgotthere."

"Wonderwhathelookslike?"saidDill.

JemgaveareasonabledescriptionofBoo:Boowasaboutsix-and-a-half feet tall, judging from his tracks; he dined on rawsquirrelsandanycatshecouldcatch,that'swhyhishandswerebloodstained- if youateananimal raw,you couldneverwashthebloodoff.Therewasalongjaggedscarthatranacrosshisface; what teeth he had were yellow and rotten; his eyespopped,andhedrooledmostofthetime.

"Let'strytomakehimcomeout,"saidDill."I'dliketoseewhathelookslike."

JemsaidifDillwantedtogethimselfkilled,allhehadtodowasgoupandknockonthefrontdoor.

OurfirstraidcametopassonlybecauseDillbetJemTheGrayGhostagainsttwoTomSwiftsthatJemwouldn'tgetanyfartherthantheRadleygate. Inallhis life,Jemhadneverdeclinedadare.

Jemthoughtaboutitforthreedays.Isupposehelovedhonormore than his head, for Dill wore him down easily: "You'rescared,"Dill said, the first day. "Ain't scared, just respectful,"Jemsaid.ThenextdayDillsaid,"You'retooscaredeventoputyourbigtoeinthefrontyard."Jemsaidhereckonedhewasn't,he'dpassedtheRadleyPlaceeveryschooldayofhislife.

"Alwaysrunnin',"Isaid.

ButDill gothim the thirdday,whenhe told Jem that folks inMeridian certainly weren't as afraid as the folks in Maycomb,thathe'dneverseensuchscaryfolksastheonesinMaycomb.

ThiswasenoughtomakeJemmarchtothecorner,wherehe

stoppedandleanedagainstthelight-pole,watchingthegatehangingcrazilyonitshomemadehinge.

"Ihopeyou'vegot it throughyourhead thathe'll kill useachand every one, Dill Harris," said Jem, when we joined him."Don'tblamemewhenhegougesyoureyesout.Youstartedit,remember."

"You'restillscared,"murmuredDillpatiently.

JemwantedDilltoknowonceandforallthathewasn'tscaredofanything:"It's just thatIcan't thinkofawaytomakehimcome out without him gettin' us." Besides, Jem had his littlesistertothinkof.

When he said that, I knew he was afraid. Jem had his littlesistertothinkofthetimeIdaredhimtojumpoffthetopofthehouse:"IfIgotkilled,what'dbecomeofyou?"heasked.Thenhe jumped, landedunhurt, and his sense of responsibility lefthimuntilconfrontedbytheRadleyPlace.

"Yougonnarunoutonadare?"askedDill."Ifyouare,then-"

"Dill,youhavetothinkaboutthesethings,"Jemsaid."Lemmethinkaminute...it'ssortoflikemakingaturtlecomeout..."

"How'sthat?"askedDill.

"Strikeamatchunderhim."

ItoldJemifhesetfiretotheRadleyhouseIwasgoingtotellAtticusonhim.

Dillsaidstrikingamatchunderaturtlewashateful.

"Ain'thateful,justpersuadeshim-'snotlikeyou'dchunkhiminthefire,"Jemgrowled.

"Howdoyouknowamatchdon'thurthim?"

"Turtlescan'tfeel,stupid,"saidJem.

"Wereyoueveraturtle,huh?"

"Mystars,Dill!Nowlemmethink...reckonwecanrockhim...."

JemstoodinthoughtsolongthatDillmadeamildconcession:"Iwon'tsayyouranoutonadarean' I'llswapyouTheGrayGhostifyoujustgoupandtouchthehouse."

Jembrightened."Touchthehouse,thatall?"

Dillnodded.

"Sure that's all, now? I don't want you hollerin' somethingdifferenttheminuteIgetback."

"Yeah, that'sall," saidDill. "He'll probably comeoutafteryouwhenheseesyouintheyard,thenScout'n'me'lljumponhimandholdhimdowntillwecantellhimweain'tgonnahurthim."

We left thecorner, crossed thesidestreet that ran in frontoftheRadleyhouse,andstoppedatthegate.

"Wellgoon,"saidDill,"Scoutandme'srightbehindyou."

"I'mgoing,"saidJem,"don'thurryme."

Hewalkedtothecornerofthelot,thenbackagain,studyingthesimpleterrainasifdecidinghowbesttoeffectanentry,frowningandscratchinghishead.

ThenIsneeredathim.

Jem threw open the gate and sped to the side of the house,slapped itwith his palmand ran back past us, notwaiting toseeifhisforaywassuccessful.DillandIfollowedonhisheels.Safelyonourporch,pantingandoutofbreath,welookedback.

Theoldhousewasthesame,droopyandsick,butaswestareddown the street we thought we saw an inside shutter move.Flick. A tiny, almost invisible movement, and the house wasstill.

2

Dill left us early in September, to return to Meridian. Wesawhimoffonthefiveo'clockbusandIwasmiserablewithouthimuntilitoccurredtomethatIwouldbestartingtoschoolina week. I never looked forwardmore to anything in my life.Hours of wintertime had found me in the treehouse, lookingoverattheschoolyard,spyingonmultitudesofchildrenthroughatwo-powertelescopeJemhadgivenme,learningtheirgames,following Jem's red jacket through wriggling circles of blindman's buff, secretly sharing their misfortunes and minorvictories.Ilongedtojointhem.

Jem condescended to take me to school the first day, a jobusuallydonebyone'sparents,butAtticushadsaidJemwouldbe delighted to showme where my room was. I think somemoney changed hands in this transaction, for as we trottedaround thecornerpast theRadleyPlace IheardanunfamiliarjingleinJem'spockets.Whenweslowedtoawalkattheedgeoftheschoolyard,JemwascarefultoexplainthatduringschoolhoursIwasnottobotherhim,Iwasnottoapproachhimwithrequests to enact a chapter of Tarzan and the Ant Men, toembarrasshimwithreferences tohisprivate life,or tagalongbehind him at recess and noon. I was to stick with the firstgradeandhewouldstickwiththefifth.Inshort,Iwastoleavehimalone.

"Youmeanwecan'tplayanymore?"Iasked.

"We'lldolikewealwaysdoathome,"hesaid,"butyou'llsee-school'sdifferent."

It certainly was. Before the first morning was over, MissCaroline Fisher, our teacher, hauledmeup to the front of the

roomandpattedthepalmofmyhandwitharuler,thenmademestandinthecorneruntilnoon.

Miss Caroline was no more than twenty-one. She had brightauburn hair, pink cheeks, and wore crimson fingernail polish.Shealsoworehigh-heeledpumpsandared-and-white-stripeddress. She looked and smelled like a peppermint drop. Sheboarded across the street one door down from us in MissMaudie Atkinson's upstairs front room, andwhenMissMaudieintroducedustoher,Jemwasinahazefordays.

Miss Caroline printed her name on the blackboard and said,"ThissaysIamMissCarolineFisher.IamfromNorthAlabama,from Winston County." The class murmured apprehensively,should she prove to harbor her share of the peculiaritiesindigenous to that region. (When Alabama seceded from theUnion on January 11, 1861, Winston County seceded fromAlabama, and every child inMaycombCounty knew it.)NorthAlabama was full of Liquor Interests, Big Mules, steelcompanies, Republicans, professors, and other persons of nobackground.

MissCarolinebeganthedaybyreadingusastoryaboutcats.The cats had long conversations with one another, they worecunning little clothes and lived in a warm house beneath akitchenstove.BythetimeMrs.Catcalledthedrugstoreforanorder of chocolatemaltedmice the classwaswriggling like abucketful of catawba worms. Miss Caroline seemed unawarethattheragged,denim-shirtedandfloursack-skirtedfirstgrade,mostofwhomhadchoppedcottonandfedhogsfromthetimetheywereabletowalk,wereimmunetoimaginativeliterature.MissCarolinecametotheendofthestoryandsaid,"Oh,my,wasn'tthatnice?"

Then shewent to the blackboard and printed the alphabet inenormoussquarecapitals,turnedtotheclassandasked,"Doesanybodyknowwhattheseare?"

Everybodydid;mostofthefirstgradehadfaileditlastyear.

Isupposeshechosemebecausesheknewmyname;asIreadthealphabeta faint lineappearedbetweenhereyebrows,andaftermakingme readmostofMyFirstReaderand the stock-market quotations from The Mobile Register aloud, shediscoveredthatIwasliterateandlookedatmewithmorethanfaint distaste. Miss Caroline told me to tell my father not toteachmeanymore,itwouldinterferewithmyreading.

"Teachme?"Isaidinsurprise."Hehasn'ttaughtmeanything,Miss Caroline. Atticus ain't got time to teachme anything," Iadded,whenMissCaroline smiled and shookher head. "Why,he'ssotiredatnighthejustsitsinthelivingroomandreads."

"If he didn't teach you, who did?" Miss Caroline asked good-naturedly."Somebodydid.Youweren'tbornreadingTheMobileRegister."

"Jem says I was. He read in a book where I was a Bullfinchinstead of a Finch. Jem says my name's really Jean LouiseBullfinch,thatIgotswappedwhenIwasbornandI'mreallya-"

MissCarolineapparentlythoughtIwaslying."Let'snotletourimaginations runawaywithus, dear," she said. "Nowyou tellyour father not to teach you any more. It's best to beginreadingwithafreshmind.YoutellhimI'lltakeoverfromhereandtrytoundothedamage-"

"Ma'am?"

"Yourfatherdoesnotknowhowtoteach.Youcanhaveaseatnow."

I mumbled that I was sorry and retired meditating upon mycrime.Ineverdeliberatelylearnedtoread,butsomehowIhadbeenwallowingillicitlyinthedailypapers.Inthelonghoursofchurch-wasitthenIlearned?Icouldnotremembernotbeing

abletoreadhymns.NowthatIwascompelledtothinkaboutit,reading was something that just came to me, as learning tofasten the seat of my union suit without looking around, orachieving two bows from a snarl of shoelaces. I could notremember when the lines above Atticus's moving fingerseparatedintowords,butIhadstaredatthemalltheeveningsin my memory, listening to the news of the day, Bills to BeEnactedintoLaws,thediariesofLorenzoDow-anythingAtticushappenedtobereadingwhenIcrawledintohislapeverynight.Until I fearedIwould lose it, Inever lovedto read.Onedoesnotlovebreathing.

IknewIhadannoyedMissCaroline,soIletwellenoughaloneandstaredoutthewindowuntilrecesswhenJemcutmefromthecoveyoffirst-gradersintheschoolyard.HeaskedhowIwasgettingalong.Itoldhim.

"If I didn't have to stay I'd leave. Jem, that damn lady saysAtticus'sbeenteachingmetoreadandforhimtostopit-"

"Don't worry, Scout," Jem comforted me. "Our teacher saysMissCaroline'sintroducinganewwayofteaching.Shelearnedaboutitincollege.It'llbeinallthegradessoon.Youdon'thavetolearnmuchoutofbooksthatway-it'slikeifyouwantalearnaboutcows,yougomilkone,see?"

"YeahJem,butIdon'twantastudycows,I-"

"Sureyoudo.Youhaftaknowaboutcows,they'reabigpartoflifeinMaycombCounty."

IcontentedmyselfwithaskingJemifhe'dlosthismind.

"I'mjusttryingtotellyouthenewwaythey'reteachin'thefirstgrade,stubborn.It'stheDeweyDecimalSystem."

Having never questioned Jem's pronouncements, I saw noreasontobeginnow.TheDeweyDecimalSystemconsisted,in

part,ofMissCarolinewavingcardsatusonwhichwereprinted"the," "cat," "rat," "man," and "you."No comment seemed tobeexpectedofus,andtheclassreceivedtheseimpressionisticrevelations insilence. Iwasbored,so Ibegana letter toDill.MissCarolinecaughtmewritingandtoldmetotellmyfathertostop teachingme. "Besides," she said. "We don't write in thefirstgrade,weprint.Youwon'tlearntowriteuntilyou'reinthethirdgrade."

Calpurnia was to blame for this. It keptme from driving hercrazyonrainydays,Iguess.Shewouldsetmeawritingtaskbyscrawlingthealphabetfirmlyacrossthetopofatablet,thencopyingoutachapteroftheBiblebeneath.IfIreproducedherpenmanshipsatisfactorily,sherewardedmewithanopen-facedsandwich of bread and butter and sugar. In Calpurnia'steaching, there was no sentimentality: I seldom pleased herandsheseldomrewardedme.

"Everybodywhogoeshometolunchholdupyourhands,"saidMissCaroline,breakingintomynewgrudgeagainstCalpurnia.

Thetownchildrendidso,andshelookedusover.

"Everybodywhobringshislunchputitontopofhisdesk."

Molasses buckets appeared from nowhere, and the ceilingdancedwithmetallic light.Miss Carolinewalked up and downthe rows peering and poking into lunch containers, nodding ifthe contents pleased her, frowning a little at others. Shestopped at Walter Cunningham's desk. "Where's yours?" sheasked.

WalterCunningham's face toldeverybody in the firstgradehehadhookworms.Hisabsenceofshoestoldushowhegotthem.People caught hookworms going barefooted in barnyards andhog wallows. If Walter had owned any shoes he would havewornthemthefirstdayofschoolandthendiscardedthemuntilmid-winter. He did have on a clean shirt and neatly mended

overalls.

"Didyouforgetyourlunchthismorning?"askedMissCaroline.

Walterlookedstraightahead.Isawamusclejumpinhisskinnyjaw.

"Didyou forget it thismorning?"askedMissCaroline.Walter'sjawtwitchedagain.

"Yeb'm,"hefinallymumbled.

MissCarolinewenttoherdeskandopenedherpurse."Here'saquarter,"shesaidtoWalter."Goandeatdowntowntoday.Youcanpaymebacktomorrow."

Walter shookhis head. "Nome thank youma'am," hedrawledsoftly.

ImpatiencecreptintoMissCaroline'svoice:"HereWalter,comegetit."

Waltershookhisheadagain.

WhenWaltershookhisheada third timesomeonewhispered,"Goonandtellher,Scout."

Iturnedaroundandsawmostofthetownpeopleandtheentirebusdelegationlookingatme.MissCarolineandIhadconferredtwice already, and they were looking at me in the innocentassurancethatfamiliaritybreedsunderstanding.

IrosegraciouslyonWalter'sbehalf:"Ah-MissCaroline?"

"Whatisit,JeanLouise?"

"MissCaroline,he'saCunningham."

Isatbackdown.

"What,JeanLouise?"

I thought I had made things sufficiently clear. It was clearenoughtotherestofus:WalterCunninghamwassittingtherelyinghisheadoff.Hedidn'tforgethislunch,hedidn'thaveany.Hehadnonetodaynorwouldhehaveanytomorroworthenextday.Hehadprobablyneverseenthreequarterstogetheratthesametimeinhislife.

Itriedagain:"Walter'soneoftheCunninghams,MissCaroline."

"Ibegyourpardon,JeanLouise?"

"That's okay, ma'am, you'll get to know all the county folksafterawhile.TheCunninghamsnevertookanythingtheycan'tpayback-nochurchbasketsandnoscripstamps.Theynevertookanythingoffofanybody,theygetalongonwhattheyhave.Theydon'thavemuch,buttheygetalongonit."

My special knowledge of the Cunningham tribe- one branch,that is-wasgained fromevents of lastwinter.Walter's fatherwasoneofAtticus'sclients.Afteradrearyconversation inourlivingroom one night about his entailment, before Mr.Cunninghamlefthesaid,"Mr.Finch,Idon'tknowwhenI'lleverbeabletopayyou."

"Letthatbetheleastofyourworries,Walter,"Atticussaid

.

WhenIaskedJemwhatentailmentwas,andJemdescribed itasaconditionofhavingyour tail inacrack, IaskedAtticus ifMr.Cunninghamwouldeverpayus.

"Notinmoney,"Atticussaid,"butbeforetheyear'soutI'llhavebeenpaid.Youwatch."

Wewatched.OnemorningJemandIfoundaloadofstovewoodinthebackyard.Later,asackofhickorynutsappearedonthe

back steps.With Christmas came a crate of smilax and holly.That springwhenwe foundacrokersack full of turnipgreens,AtticussaidMr.Cunninghamhadmorethanpaidhim.

"Whydoeshepayyoulikethat?"Iasked.

"Because that's the only way he can pay me. He has nomoney."

"Arewepoor,Atticus?"

Atticusnodded."Weareindeed."

Jem'snosewrinkled."AreweaspoorastheCunninghams?"

"Notexactly.TheCunninghamsarecountryfolks,farmers,andthecrashhitthemhardest."

Atticussaidprofessionalpeoplewerepoorbecausethefarmerswerepoor.AsMaycombCountywas farmcountry,nickelsanddimes were hard to come by for doctors and dentists andlawyers. Entailment was only a part of Mr. Cunningham'svexations. The acres not entailedweremortgaged to the hilt,and the little cash he made went to interest. If he held hismouthright,Mr.CunninghamcouldgetaWPAjob,buthislandwouldgotoruinifheleftit,andhewaswillingtogohungrytokeep his land and vote as he pleased. Mr. Cunningham, saidAtticus,camefromasetbreedofmen.

AstheCunninghamshadnomoneytopayalawyer,theysimplypaiduswithwhattheyhad."Didyouknow,"saidAtticus,"thatDr. Reynolds works the same way? He charges some folks abushelofpotatoesfordeliveryofababy.MissScout,ifyougiveme your attention I'll tell you what entailment is. Jem'sdefinitionsareverynearlyaccuratesometimes."

IfIcouldhaveexplainedthesethingstoMissCaroline,Iwouldhave saved myself some inconvenience and Miss Carolinesubsequent mortification, but it was beyond my ability to

explainthingsaswellasAtticus,soIsaid,"You'reshamin'him,MissCaroline.Walterhasn'tgotaquarterathometobringyou,andyoucan'tuseanystovewood."

Miss Caroline stood stock still, then grabbedme by the collarandhauledmebacktoherdesk."JeanLouise,I'vehadaboutenoughof you thismorning," she said. "You're startingoff onthewrongfootineveryway,mydear.Holdoutyourhand."

Ithoughtshewasgoingtospitinit,whichwastheonlyreasonanybodyinMaycombheldouthishand:itwasatime-honoredmethod of sealing oral contracts.Wonderingwhat bargainwehadmade, I turned to the class for an answer, but the classlookedbackatme inpuzzlement.MissCarolinepickedupherruler, gaveme half a dozen quick little pats, then toldme tostand in the corner. A storm of laughter broke loose when itfinallyoccurredtotheclassthatMissCarolinehadwhippedme.

When Miss Caroline threatened it with a similar fate the firstgrade exploded again, becoming cold sober only when theshadow of Miss Blount fell over them. Miss Blount, a nativeMaycombianasyetuninitiated inthemysteriesoftheDecimalSystem,appearedatthedoorhandsonhipsandannounced:"IfIhearanothersoundfromthisroomI'llburnupeverybody init. Miss Caroline, the sixth grade cannot concentrate on thepyramidsforallthisracket!"

My sojourn in the cornerwas a short one.Savedby thebell,MissCarolinewatchedtheclassfileoutforlunch.AsIwasthelast to leave,Isawhersinkdown intoherchairandburyherhead inherarms.Hadherconductbeenmore friendly towardme,Iwouldhavefeltsorryforher.Shewasaprettylittlething.

3

Catching Walter Cunningham in the schoolyard gave mesomepleasure,butwhenIwasrubbinghisnoseinthedirtJemcamebyandtoldmetostop."You'rebigger'nheis,"hesaid.

"He'sasoldasyou,nearly," Isaid. "Hemademestartoffonthewrongfoot."

"Lethimgo,Scout.Why?"

"He didn't have any lunch," I said, and explained myinvolvementinWalter'sdietaryaffairs.

Walterhadpickedhimselfupandwasstandingquietlylisteningto Jemandme.His fistswerehalf cocked, as if expectinganonslaughtfrombothofus.Istompedathimtochasehimaway,butJemputouthishandandstoppedme.HeexaminedWalterwithanairofspeculation."YourdaddyMr.WalterCunninghamfromOldSarum?"heasked,andWalternodded.

Walterlookedasifhehadbeenraisedonfishfood:hiseyes,asblueasDillHarris's,werered-rimmedandwatery.Therewasnocolorinhisfaceexceptatthetipofhisnose,whichwasmoistlypink.Hefingeredthestrapsofhisoveralls,nervouslypickingatthemetalhooks.

Jem suddenly grinned at him. "Come on home to dinnerwithus,Walter,"hesaid."We'dbegladtohaveyou."

Walter'sfacebrightened,thendarkened.

Jem said, "Our daddy's a friend of your daddy's. Scout here,she'scrazy-shewon'tfightyouanymore."

"I wouldn't be too certain of that," I said. Jem's freedispensation of my pledge irked me, but precious noontimeminutesweretickingaway."YeahWalter, Iwon't jumponyouagain.Don'tyoulikebutterbeans?OurCal'sarealgoodcook."

Walterstoodwherehewas,bitinghis lip. JemandIgaveup,and we were nearly to the Radley Place when Walter called,"Hey,I'mcomin'!"

When Walter caught up with us, Jem made pleasantconversationwithhim."Ahain't lives there,"hesaidcordially,pointingtotheRadleyhouse."Everhearabouthim,Walter?"

"ReckonIhave,"saidWalter."AlmostdiedfirstyearIcometoschoolandet thempecans- folks sayhepizened 'emandput'emoverontheschoolsideofthefence."

Jemseemed tohave little fearofBooRadleynow thatWalterandIwalkedbesidehim.Indeed,Jemgrewboastful:"Iwentallthewayuptothehouseonce,"hesaidtoWalter.

"Anybodywhowentuptothehouseonceoughtanottostillruneverytimehepassesit,"Isaidtothecloudsabove.

"Andwho'srunnin',MissPriss?"

"Youare,whenain'tanybodywithyou."

BythetimewereachedourfrontstepsWalterhadforgottenhewasaCunningham.JemrantothekitchenandaskedCalpurniatosetanextraplate,wehadcompany.AtticusgreetedWalterand began a discussion about crops neither Jem nor I couldfollow.

"Reason I can't pass the first grade,Mr. Finch, is I've had tostay out ever' spring an' help Papa with the choppin', butthere'sanother'natthehousenowthat'sfieldsize."

"Didyoupayabushelofpotatoesforhim?"Iasked,butAtticus

shookhisheadatme.

While Walter piled food on his plate, he and Atticus talkedtogether like two men, to the wonderment of Jem and me.Atticus was expounding upon farm problems when Walterinterrupted to ask if there was any molasses in the house.Atticus summoned Calpurnia, who returned bearing the syruppitcher. She stood waiting for Walter to help himself. Walterpoured syrup on his vegetables and meat with a generoushand.HewouldprobablyhavepoureditintohismilkglasshadInotaskedwhatthesamhillhewasdoing.

Thesilversaucerclatteredwhenhereplacedthepitcher,andhequicklyputhishandsinhislap.Thenheduckedhishead.

Atticus shook his head at me again. "But he's gone anddrowned his dinner in syrup," I protested. "He's poured it allover-"

It was then that Calpurnia requested my presence in thekitchen.

She was furious, and when she was furious Calpurnia'sgrammarbecameerratic.Whenintranquility,hergrammarwasas good as anybody's inMaycomb.Atticus saidCalpurnia hadmoreeducationthanmostcoloredfolks.

Whenshesquinteddownatmethetiny linesaroundhereyesdeepened. "There's some folks who don't eat like us," shewhisperedfiercely,"butyouain'tcalledontocontradict'ematthe table when they don't. That boy's yo' comp'ny and if hewantstoeatupthetableclothyoulethim,youhear?"

"Heain'tcompany,Cal,he'sjustaCunningham-"

"Hush yourmouth! Don't matter who they are, anybody setsfootinthishouse'syo'comp'ny,anddon'tyouletmecatchyouremarkin' on theirways like youwas so high andmighty! Yo'

folksmightbebetter'ntheCunninghamsbut itdon'tcountfornothin'thewayyou'redisgracin''em-ifyoucan'tactfittoeatatthetableyoucanjustsethereandeatinthekitchen!"

Calpurniasentmethroughtheswingingdoortothediningroomwithastingingsmack.Iretrievedmyplateandfinisheddinnerin the kitchen, thankful, though, that I was spared thehumiliationof facing themagain. I toldCalpurnia to justwait,I'dfixher:oneofthesedayswhenshewasn'tlookingI'dgooffand drown myself in Barker's Eddy and then she'd be sorry.Besides, I added, she'd already gotten me in trouble oncetoday: she had taught me to write and it was all her fault."Hushyourfussin',"shesaid.

JemandWalterreturnedtoschoolaheadofme:stayingbehindto advise Atticus of Calpurnia's iniquitieswasworth a solitarysprintpast theRadleyPlace. "She likes Jembetter'n she likesme,anyway," I concluded, and suggested thatAtticus losenotimeinpackingheroff.

"Haveyoueverconsidered that Jemdoesn'tworryherhalfasmuch?" Atticus's voicewas flinty. "I've no intention of gettingridofher,noworever.Wecouldn'toperateasingledaywithoutCal,haveyoueverthoughtofthat?YouthinkabouthowmuchCaldoesforyou,andyoumindher,youhear?"

IreturnedtoschoolandhatedCalpurniasteadilyuntilasuddenshriek shattered my resentments. I looked up to see MissCaroline standing in the middle of the room, sheer horrorflooding her face. Apparently she had revived enough topersevereinherprofession.

"It'salive!"shescreamed.

The male population of the class rushed as one to herassistance. Lord, I thought, she's scared of a mouse. LittleChuck Little, whose patience with all living things wasphenomenal,said,"Whichwaydidhego,MissCaroline?Tellus

wherehewent, quick!D.C.-" he turned to a boybehindhim-"D.C.,shutthedoorandwe'llcatchhim.Quick,ma'am,where'dhego?"

MissCarolinepointedashakingfingernotatthefloornoratadesk,buttoahulkingindividualunknowntome.LittleChuck'sface contracted and he said gently, "You mean him, ma'am?Yessum,he'salive.Didhescareyousomeway?"

MissCaroline saiddesperately, "Iwas justwalkingbywhen itcrawledoutofhishair...justcrawledoutofhishair-"

Little Chuck grinned broadly. "There ain't no need to fear acootie, ma'am. Ain't you ever seen one? Now don't you beafraid,youjustgobacktoyourdeskandteachussomemore."

LittleChuckLittlewasanothermemberof thepopulationwhodidn'tknowwherehisnextmealwascomingfrom,buthewasa born gentleman. He put his hand under her elbow and ledMiss Caroline to the front of the room. "Now don't you fret,ma'am,"hesaid."Thereain'tnoneedtofearacootie.I'lljustfetchyousomecoolwater."

Thecootie'shostshowednotthefaintestinterestinthefurorhehadwrought.Hesearchedthescalpabovehisforehead,locatedhisguestandpincheditbetweenhisthumbandforefinger.

MissCarolinewatchedtheprocessinhorridfascination.LittleChuckbroughtwaterinapapercup,andshedrankitgratefully.Finallyshefoundhervoice."Whatisyourname,son?"sheaskedsoftly.

Theboyblinked."Who,me?"MissCarolinenodded.

"BurrisEwell."

MissCarolineinspectedherroll-book."IhaveaEwellhere,butIdon'thaveafirstname...wouldyouspellyourfirstnameforme?"

"Don'tknowhow.TheycallmeBurris'thome."

"Well, Burris," said Miss Caroline, "I think we'd better excuseyou for the restof theafternoon. Iwantyou togohomeandwashyourhair."

Fromherdesksheproducedathickvolume,leafedthroughitspages and read for a moment. "A good home remedy for-Burris,Iwantyoutogohomeandwashyourhairwithlyesoap.Whenyou'vedonethat,treatyourscalpwithkerosene."

"Whatfer,missus?"

"Togetridofthe-er,cooties.Yousee,Burris,theotherchildrenmightcatchthem,andyouwouldn'twantthat,wouldyou?"

Theboystoodup.HewasthefilthiesthumanIhadeverseen.Hisneckwasdarkgray,thebacksofhishandswererusty,andhisfingernailswereblackdeepintothequick.HepeeredatMissCaroline froma fist-sizedcleanspaceonhis face.Noonehadnoticed him, probably, because Miss Caroline and I hadentertainedtheclassmostofthemorning.

"AndBurris," saidMissCaroline, "pleasebatheyourselfbeforeyoucomebacktomorrow."

Theboylaughedrudely."Youain'tsendin'mehome,missus.Iwasonthevergeofleavin'-Idonedonemytimeforthisyear."

MissCarolinelookedpuzzled."Whatdoyoumeanbythat?"

Theboydidnotanswer.Hegaveashortcontemptuoussnort.

One of the elderlymembers of the class answered her: "He'soneof theEwells,ma'am,"andIwondered if thisexplanationwould be as unsuccessful as my attempt. But Miss Carolineseemedwillingtolisten."Wholeschool'sfullof'em.Theycomefirst day every year and then leave. The truant ladygets 'em

here'causeshethreatens'emwiththesheriff,butshe'sgiveuptryin' to hold 'em. She reckons she's carried out the law justgettin' their names on the roll and runnin' 'em here the firstday.You'resupposedtomark'emabsenttherestoftheyear..."

"Butwhatabouttheirparents?"askedMissCaroline,ingenuineconcern.

"Ain't got nomother," was the answer, "and their paw's rightcontentious."

Burris Ewell was flattered by the recital. "Been comin' to thefirst day o' the first grade fer three year now," he saidexpansively."Reckon ifI'msmartthisyearthey'llpromotemetothesecond...."

Miss Caroline said, "Sit back down, please, Burris," and themoment she said it I knew she hadmade a seriousmistake.Theboy'scondescensionflashedtoanger.

"Youtryandmakeme,missus."

LittleChuckLittlegottohisfeet."Lethimgo,ma'am,"hesaid."He'sameanone,ahard-downmeanone.He's liabletostartsomethin',andthere'ssomelittlefolkshere."

He was among themost diminutive ofmen, but when BurrisEwell turnedtowardhim,LittleChuck's righthandwent tohispocket. "Watchyour step,Burris,"hesaid. "I'd soon'skill youaslookatyou.Nowgohome."

Burrisseemedtobeafraidofachildhalfhisheight,andMissCarolinetookadvantageofhis indecision:"Burris,gohome.Ifyou don't I'll call the principal," she said. "I'll have to reportthis,anyway."

Theboysnortedandslouchedleisurelytothedoor.

Safely out of range, he turned and shouted: "Report and be

damnedtoye!Ain'tnosnot-nosedslutofaschoolteachereverbornc'nmakemedonothin'!Youain'tmakin'megonowhere,missus. You just remember that, you ain't makin' me gonowhere!"

Hewaited until hewas sure shewas crying, then he shuffledoutofthebuilding.

Soonwewereclusteredaroundherdesk,tryinginourvariouswaystocomforther.Hewasarealmeanone...belowthebelt...you ain't called on to teach folks like that... them ain'tMaycomb'sways,MissCaroline,notreally...nowdon'tyoufret,ma'am.MissCaroline,whydon'tyoureadusastory?Thatcatthingwasrealfinethismornin'....

Miss Caroline smiled, blew her nose, said, "Thank you,darlings," dispersedus, openeda bookandmystified the firstgradewithalongnarrativeaboutatoadfrogthatlivedinahall.

When I passed theRadley Place for the fourth time that day-twice at a full gallop-my gloom had deepened tomatch thehouse.Iftheremainderoftheschoolyearwereasfraughtwithdramaasthefirstday,perhapsitwouldbemildlyentertaining,but the prospect of spending nine months refraining fromreadingandwritingmademethinkofrunningaway.

By late afternoonmost ofmy traveling plans were complete;when Jem and I raced each other up the sidewalk to meetAtticus coming home fromwork, I didn't give himmuch of arace.ItwasourhabittorunmeetAtticusthemomentwesawhimroundthepostofficecornerinthedistance.Atticusseemedtohave forgottenmynoontime fall fromgrace;hewas full ofquestions about school. My replies were monosyllabic and hedidnotpressme.

Perhaps Calpurnia sensed thatmy day had been a grim one:sheletmewatchherfixsupper."ShutyoureyesandopenyourmouthandI'llgiveyouasurprise,"shesaid.

Itwas not often that shemade crackling bread, she said sheneverhadtime,butwithbothofusatschooltodayhadbeenaneasyoneforher.SheknewIlovedcracklingbread.

"I missed you today," she said. "The house got so lonesome'longabouttwoo'clockIhadtoturnontheradio."

"Why?Jem'nmeain'teverinthehouseunlessit'srainin'."

"Iknow,"shesaid,"Butoneofyou'salwaysincallin'distance.Iwonder how much of the day I spend just callin' after you.Well,"shesaid,gettingupfromthekitchenchair,"it'senoughtimetomakeapanofcracklin'bread,Ireckon.Yourunalongnowandletmegetsupperonthetable."

Calpurnia bent down and kissed me. I ran along, wonderingwhathadcomeoverher.Shehadwantedtomakeupwithme,thatwas it.Shehadalwaysbeentoohardonme,shehadatlastseentheerrorofherfractiousways,shewassorryandtoostubborntosayso.Iwaswearyfromtheday'scrimes.

After supper, Atticus sat down with the paper and called,"Scout, ready to read?" The Lord sentmemore than I couldbear,andIwenttothefrontporch.Atticusfollowedme.

"Somethingwrong,Scout?"

I told Atticus I didn't feel verywell and didn't think I'd go toschoolanymoreifitwasallrightwithhim.

Atticussatdownintheswingandcrossedhis legs.Hisfingerswanderedtohiswatchpocket;hesaidthatwastheonlywayhecould think. He waited in amiable silence, and I sought toreinforcemyposition:"Youneverwenttoschoolandyoudoallright, so I'll just stay home too. You can teach me likeGranddaddytaughtyou'n'UncleJack."

"No I can't," said Atticus. "I have to make a living. Besides,they'dputmeinjailifIkeptyouathome-doseofmagnesiafor

youtonightandschooltomorrow."

"I'mfeelingallright,really."

"Thoughtso.Nowwhat'sthematter?"

Bitbybit,Itoldhimtheday'smisfortunes."-andshesaidyoutaught me all wrong, so we can't ever read any more, ever.Pleasedon'tsendmeback,pleasesir."

Atticusstoodupandwalkedtotheendoftheporch.Whenhecompletedhisexaminationofthewisteriavinehestrolledbacktome.

"First of all," he said, "if you can learn a simple trick, Scout,you'll get along a lot betterwith all kinds of folks. You neverreally understand a person until you consider things from hispointofview-"

"Sir?"

"-untilyouclimbintohisskinandwalkaroundinit."

AtticussaidIhadlearnedmanythingstoday,andMissCarolinehadlearnedseveralthingsherself.ShehadlearnednottohandsomethingtoaCunningham,foronething,but ifWalterandIhadputourselvesinhershoeswe'dhaveseenitwasanhonestmistake on her part. We could not expect her to learn allMaycomb's ways in one day, and we could not hold herresponsiblewhensheknewnobetter.

"I'll be dogged," I said. "I didn't know no better than not toreadtoher,andsheheldmeresponsible-listenAtticus,Idon'thave to go to school!" Iwas burstingwith a sudden thought."BurrisEwell, remember?He justgoes toschool the firstday.Thetruantladyreckonsshe'scarriedoutthelawwhenshegetshisnameontheroll-"

"Youcan'tdothat,Scout,"Atticussaid."Sometimes it'sbetter

tobendthe lawa little inspecialcases. Inyourcase, the lawremainsrigid.Sotoschoolyoumustgo."

"Idon'tseewhyIhavetowhenhedoesn't."

"Thenlisten."

Atticus said the Ewells had been the disgrace ofMaycomb forthree generations. None of them had done an honest day'sworkinhisrecollection.HesaidthatsomeChristmas,whenhewas getting rid of the tree, he would take me with him andshowmewhereandhowtheylived.Theywerepeople,buttheylived likeanimals. "Theycango toschoolany time theywantto, when they show the faintest symptom of wanting aneducation," said Atticus. "There are ways of keeping them inschoolbyforce,butit'ssillytoforcepeopleliketheEwellsintoanewenvironment-"

"IfIdidn'tgotoschooltomorrow,you'dforcemeto."

"Let us leave it at this," said Atticus dryly. "You, Miss ScoutFinch,areofthecommonfolk.Youmustobeythelaw."HesaidthattheEwellsweremembersofanexclusivesocietymadeupofEwells.Incertaincircumstancesthecommonfolkjudiciouslyallowed them certain privileges by the simple method ofbecoming blind to some of the Ewells' activities. They didn'thave to go to school, for one thing. Another thing, Mr. BobEwell, Burris's father, was permitted to hunt and trap out ofseason.

"Atticus,that'sbad,"Isaid.InMaycombCounty,huntingoutofseasonwasamisdemeanoratlaw,acapitalfelonyintheeyesofthepopulace.

"It'sagainstthelaw,allright,"saidmyfather,"andit'scertainlybad,butwhenamanspendshisreliefchecksongreenwhiskeyhis children have a way of crying from hunger pains. I don'tknow of any landowner around here who begrudges those

childrenanygametheirfathercanhit."

"Mr.Ewellshouldn'tdothat-"

"Ofcourseheshouldn't,buthe'llneverchangehisways.Areyougoingtotakeoutyourdisapprovalonhischildren?"

"Nosir,"Imurmured,andmadeafinalstand:"ButifIkeepongoin'toschool,wecan'teverreadanymore...."

"That'sreallybotheringyou,isn'tit?"

"Yessir."

WhenAtticus lookeddownatme I saw the expression onhisface that always made me expect something. "Do you knowwhatacompromiseis?"heasked.

"Bendingthelaw?"

"No, an agreement reached by mutual concessions. It worksthisway,"hesaid. "Ifyou'll concede thenecessityofgoing toschool,we'llgoonreadingeverynightjustaswealwayshave.Isitabargain?"

"Yessir!"

"We'll consider it sealed without the usual formality," Atticussaid,whenhesawmepreparingtospit.

As I opened the front screen door Atticus said, "By the way,Scout, you'd better not say anything at school about ouragreement."

"Whynot?"

"I'm afraid our activities would be received with considerabledisapprobationbythemorelearnedauthorities."

Jem and I were accustomed to our father's last-will-and-testament diction, and we were at all times free to interruptAtticusforatranslationwhenitwasbeyondourunderstanding.

"Huh,sir?"

"Ineverwent toschool,"hesaid,"but Ihavea feelingthat ifyou tellMissCarolinewereadeverynightshe'llgetafterme,andIwouldn'twantherafterme."

Atticuskeptusinfitsthatevening,gravelyreadingcolumnsofprint about a man who sat on a flagpole for no discerniblereason, which was reason enough for Jem to spend thefollowing Saturday aloft in the treehouse. Jem sat from afterbreakfastuntilsunsetandwouldhaveremainedovernighthadnotAtticusseveredhissupplylines.Ihadspentmostofthedayclimbingupanddown,runningerrands forhim,providinghimwith literature, nourishment and water, and was carrying himblanketsforthenightwhenAtticussaidifIpaidnoattentiontohim,Jemwouldcomedown.Atticuswasright.

4

Theremainderofmyschooldayswerenomoreauspiciousthanthe first. Indeed, they were an endless Project that slowlyevolved into a Unit, in whichmiles of construction paper andwaxcrayonwereexpendedbytheStateofAlabamainitswell-meaning but fruitless efforts to teach me Group Dynamics.WhatJemcalledtheDeweyDecimalSystemwasschool-widebytheendofmyfirstyear,soIhadnochancetocompareitwithotherteachingtechniques.Icouldonlylookaroundme:Atticusandmyuncle,whowent toschoolathome,kneweverything-at least, what one didn't know the other did. Furthermore, Icouldn'thelpnoticingthatmyfatherhadservedforyearsinthestatelegislature,electedeachtimewithoutopposition,innocentof the adjustments my teachers thought essential to thedevelopment of Good Citizenship. Jem, educated on a half-Decimal half-Duncecap basis, seemed to function effectivelyaloneor inagroup,but Jemwasapoorexample:no tutorialsystemdevisedbymancouldhavestoppedhimfromgettingatbooks.Asforme,IknewnothingexceptwhatIgatheredfromTimemagazineandreadingeverythingIcouldlayhandsonathome, but as I inched sluggishly along the treadmill of theMaycombCountyschoolsystem,Icouldnothelpreceivingtheimpression that Iwasbeingcheatedoutof something.Outofwhat I knew not, yet I did not believe that twelve years ofunrelievedboredomwasexactlywhatthestatehadinmindforme.

Astheyearpassed,releasedfromschoolthirtyminutesbeforeJem,whohad to stay until three o'clock, I ran by theRadleyPlaceasfastasIcould,notstoppinguntilIreachedthesafetyof our front porch. One afternoon as I raced by, somethingcaughtmyeyeandcaughtit insuchawaythatItookadeepbreath,alonglookaround,andwentback.

Two live oaks stood at the edgeof theRadley lot; their rootsreachedout intotheside-roadandmadeitbumpy.Somethingaboutoneofthetreesattractedmyattention.

Sometinfoilwasstickinginaknot-holejustabovemyeyelevel,winkingatme in the afternoon sun. I stoodon tiptoe, hastilylookedaroundoncemore,reachedintothehole,andwithdrewtwopiecesofchewinggumminustheirouterwrappers.

My first impulse was to get it into my mouth as quickly aspossible,but I rememberedwhere Iwas. I ranhome,andonour front porch I examinedmy loot. The gum looked fresh. Isniffed it and it smelled all right. I licked it and waited for awhile. When I did not die I crammed it into my mouth:Wrigley'sDouble-Mint.

WhenJemcamehomeheaskedmewhereIgotsuchawad.ItoldhimIfoundit.

"Don'teatthingsyoufind,Scout."

"Thiswasn'tontheground,itwasinatree."

Jemgrowled.

"Wellitwas,"Isaid."Itwasstickinginthattreeyonder,theonecomin'fromschool."

"Spititoutrightnow!"

Ispatitout.Thetangwasfading,anyway."I'vebeenchewin'itallafternoonandIain'tdeadyet,notevensick."

Jemstampedhisfoot."Don'tyouknowyou'renotsupposedtoeventouchthetreesoverthere?You'llgetkilledifyoudo!"

"Youtouchedthehouseonce!"

"Thatwasdifferent!Yougogargle-rightnow,youhearme?"

"Ain'tneither,it'lltakethetasteoutamymouth."

"Youdon't'n'I'lltellCalpurniaonyou!"

RatherthanriskatanglewithCalpurnia,IdidasJemtoldme.Forsomereason,my firstyearofschoolhadwroughtagreatchangeinourrelationship:Calpurnia'styranny,unfairness,andmeddling in my business had faded to gentle grumblings ofgeneral disapproval. On my part, I went to much trouble,sometimes,nottoprovokeher.

Summerwasontheway;JemandIawaiteditwithimpatience.Summer was our best season: it was sleeping on the backscreened porch in cots, or trying to sleep in the treehouse;summerwaseverythinggoodtoeat;itwasathousandcolorsinaparchedlandscape;butmostofall,summerwasDill.

The authorities released us early the last day of school, andJemandIwalkedhometogether."ReckonoldDill'llbecominghometomorrow,"Isaid.

"Probablydayafter,"saidJem."Mis'sippiturns'emlooseadaylater."

Aswe came to the live oaks at the Radley Place I raisedmyfingertopointforthehundredthtimetotheknot-holewhereIhadfoundthechewinggum,tryingtomakeJembelieveIhadfound it there, and foundmyself pointing at another piece oftinfoil.

"Iseeit,Scout!Iseeit-"

Jem looked around, reached up, and gingerly pocketed a tinyshinypackage.Weranhome,andonthefrontporchwelookedat a small box patchworked with bits of tinfoil collected fromchewing-gumwrappers. It was the kind of boxwedding ringscame in, purple velvet with aminute catch. Jem flicked openthetinycatch.Insideweretwoscrubbedandpolishedpennies,

oneontopoftheother.Jemexaminedthem.

"Indian-heads,"he said. "Nineteen-sixandScout,oneof em'snineteen-hundred.Thesearerealold."

"Nineteen-hundred,"Iechoed."Say-"

"Hushaminute,I'mthinkin'."

"Jem,youreckonthat'ssomebody'shidin'place?"

"Naw, don't anybody much but us pass by there, unless it'ssomegrownperson's-"

"Grown folksdon'thavehidin'places.Youreckonweought tokeep'em,Jem?"

"Idon'tknowwhatwecoulddo,Scout.Who'dwegive'embackto?Iknowforafactdon'tanybodygobythere-Cecilgoesbythebackstreetan'allthewayaroundbytowntogethome."

CecilJacobs,wholivedatthefarendofourstreetnextdoortothe post office, walked a total of onemile per school day toavoid the Radley Place and old Mrs. Henry Lafayette Dubose.Mrs. Dubose lived two doors up the street from us;neighborhoodopinionwasunanimousthatMrs.Dubosewasthemeanest old woman who ever lived. Jem wouldn't go by herplacewithoutAtticusbesidehim.

"Whatyoureckonweoughtado,Jem?"

Finders were keepers unless title was proven. Plucking anoccasional camellia, getting a squirt of hot milk from MissMaudieAtkinson'scowonasummerday,helpingourselves tosomeone's scuppernongs was part of our ethical culture, butmoneywasdifferent.

"Tellyouwhat,"saidJem."We'llkeep'emtillschoolstarts,thengo around and ask everybody if they're theirs. They're some

buschild's,maybe-hewastootakenupwithgettin'outaschooltodayan' forgot 'em.Thesearesomebody's, Iknowthat.Seehowthey'vebeenslickedup?They'vebeensaved."

"Yeah,butwhyshouldsomebodywantaputawaychewinggumlikethat?Youknowitdoesn'tlast."

"Idon'tknow,Scout.Buttheseareimportanttosomebody...."

"How'sthat,Jem...?"

"Well,Indian-heads-well,theycomefromtheIndians.They'rerealstrongmagic,theymakeyouhavegoodluck.Notlikefriedchickenwhenyou'renotlookin'forit,butthingslikelonglife'n'good health, 'n' passin' six-weeks tests... these are realvaluabletosomebody.I'mgonnaputeminmytrunk."

BeforeJemwenttohisroom,helookedforalongtimeattheRadleyPlace.Heseemedtobethinkingagain.

TwodayslaterDillarrivedinablazeofglory:hehadriddenthetrainbyhimselffromMeridiantoMaycombJunction(acourtesytitle- Maycomb Junction was in Abbott County) where he hadbeenmetbyMissRachelinMaycomb'sonetaxi;hehadeatendinnerinthediner,hehadseentwotwinshitchedtogethergetoffthetraininBaySt.Louisandstucktohisstoryregardlessofthreats.Hehaddiscardedtheabominableblueshortsthatwerebuttonedtohisshirtsandworerealshortpantswithabelt;hewas somewhat heavier, no taller, and said he had seen hisfather.Dill's fatherwas taller thanours,hehadablackbeard(pointed),andwaspresidentoftheL&NRailroad.

"Ihelpedtheengineerforawhile,"saidDill,yawning.

"Inapig'searyoudid,Dill.Hush,"saidJem."What'llweplaytoday?"

"TomandSamandDick,"saidDill."Let'sgointhefrontyard."Dill wanted the Rover Boys because there were three

respectable parts. Hewas clearly tired of being our characterman.

"I'm tired of those," I said. Iwas tired of playing TomRover,whosuddenly losthismemoryinthemiddleofapictureshowandwasoutofthescriptuntil theend,whenhewasfound inAlaska.

"Makeusupone,Jem,"Isaid.

"I'mtiredofmakin''emup."

Ourfirstdaysoffreedom,andweweretired.Iwonderedwhatthesummerwouldbring.

Wehadstrolledtothefrontyard,whereDillstoodlookingdownthe street at the dreary face of the Radley Place. "I- smell-death,"hesaid."Ido,Imean it,"hesaid,whenItoldhimtoshutup.

"Youmeanwhensomebody'sdyin'youcansmellit?"

"No,ImeanIcansmellsomebodyan'tellifthey'regonnadie.Anold lady taughtmehow."Dill leanedover and sniffedme."Jean-Louise-Finch,youaregoingtodieinthreedays."

"Dillifyoudon'thushI'llknockyoubowlegged.Imeanit,now-"

"Yawl hush," growled Jem, "you act like you believe in HotSteams."

"Youactlikeyoudon't,"Isaid.

"What'saHotSteam?"askedDill.

"Haven'tyoueverwalkedalonga lonesomeroadatnightandpassed by a hot place?" Jem asked Dill. "A Hot Steam'ssomebody who can't get to heaven, just wallows around on

lonesomeroadsan'ifyouwalkthroughhim,whenyoudieyou'llbe one too, an' you'll go around at night suckin' people'sbreath-"

"Howcanyoukeepfrompassingthroughone?"

"You can't," said Jem. "Sometimes they stretch all the wayacross the road, but if you hafta go through one you say,'Angel-bright, life-in-death; get off the road, don't suck mybreath.'Thatkeeps'emfromwrappingaroundyou-"

"Don'tyoubelieveawordhesays,Dill,"Isaid."Calpurniasaysthat'snigger-talk."

Jemscowleddarklyatme,butsaid, "Well,arewegonnaplayanythingornot?"

"Let'srollinthetire,"Isuggested.

Jemsighed."YouknowI'mtoobig."

"Youc'npush."

Irantothebackyardandpulledanoldcartirefromunderthehouse.Islappedituptothefrontyard."I'mfirst,"Isaid.

Dillsaidheoughttobefirst,hejustgothere.

Jem arbitrated, awardedme first pushwith an extra time forDill,andIfoldedmyselfinsidethetire.

UntilithappenedIdidnotrealizethatJemwasoffendedbymycontradicting him on Hot Steams, and that he was patientlyawaitinganopportunity to rewardme.Hedid,bypushing thetire down the sidewalkwith all the force in his body.Ground,skyandhousesmeltedintoamadpalette,myearsthrobbed,Iwas suffocating. I could not put out my hands to stop, theywerewedgedbetweenmychestandknees. I couldonlyhopethat Jem would outrun the tire and me, or that I would be

stopped by a bump in the sidewalk. I heard him behindme,chasingandshouting.

Thetirebumpedongravel,skeeteredacrosstheroad,crashedintoabarrierandpoppedmelikeacorkontopavement.Dizzyand nauseated, I lay on the cement and shookmyhead still,poundedmyearstosilence,andheardJem'svoice:"Scout,getawayfromthere,comeon!"

IraisedmyheadandstaredattheRadleyPlacestepsinfrontofme.Ifroze.

"Comeon,Scout,don'tjustliethere!"Jemwasscreaming."Getup,can'tcha?"

Igottomyfeet,tremblingasIthawed.

"Get the tire!" Jem hollered. "Bring it with you! Ain't you gotanysenseatall?"

WhenIwasabletonavigate,Iranbacktothemasfastasmyshakingkneeswouldcarryme.

"Whydidn'tyoubringit?"Jemyelled.

"Whydon'tyougetit?"Iscreamed.

Jemwassilent.

"Goon,itain'tfarinsidethegate.Why,youeventouchedthehouseonce,remember?"

Jem looked at me furiously, could not decline, ran down thesidewalk, treaded water at the gate, then dashed in andretrievedthetire.

"See there?" Jem was scowling triumphantly. "Nothin' to it. Iswear, Scout, sometimes you act so much like a girl it'smortifyin'."

Therewasmore to it than he knew, but I decided not to tellhim.

Calpurnia appeared in the front door and yelled, "Lemonadetime! You all get in outa that hot sun 'fore you fry alive!"Lemonade in the middle of the morning was a summertimeritual.Calpurnia setapitcherand threeglasseson theporch,thenwentaboutherbusiness.BeingoutofJem'sgoodgracesdidnotworrymeespecially.Lemonadewouldrestorehisgoodhumor.

Jemgulpeddownhissecondglassfulandslappedhischest."Iknowwhat we are going to play," he announced. "Somethingnew,somethingdifferent."

"What?"askedDill.

"BooRadley."

Jem'sheadattimeswastransparent:hehadthoughtthatuptomakemeunderstandhewasn'tafraidofRadleys inanyshapeor form, to contrast his own fearless heroism with mycowardice.

"BooRadley?How?"askedDill.

Jemsaid,"Scout,youcanbeMrs.Radley-"

"IdeclareifIwill.Idon'tthink-"

"'Smatter?"saidDill."Stillscared?"

"Hecangetoutatnightwhenwe'reallasleep...."Isaid.

Jem hissed. "Scout, how's he gonna know what we're doin'?Besides, I don't think he's still there. He died years ago andtheystuffedhimupthechimney."

Dill said, "Jem, you andme can play and Scout can watch if

she'sscared."

I was fairly sure Boo Radley was inside that house, but Icouldn't prove it, and felt it best to keepmymouth shutor IwouldbeaccusedofbelievinginHotSteams,phenomenaIwasimmunetointhedaytime.

Jemparceledoutourroles:IwasMrs.Radley,andallIhadtodowascomeoutandsweeptheporch.DillwasoldMr.Radley:hewalked up and down the sidewalk and coughedwhen Jemspoketohim.Jem,naturally,wasBoo:hewentunderthefrontstepsandshriekedandhowledfromtimetotime.

Asthesummerprogressed,sodidourgame.Wepolishedandperfectedit,addeddialogueandplotuntilwehadmanufacturedasmallplayuponwhichwerangchangeseveryday.

Dillwasavillain'svillain:hecouldget intoanycharacterpartassignedhim,andappear tall ifheightwaspartof thedevilryrequired.Hewasasgoodashisworstperformance;hisworstperformance was Gothic. I reluctantly played assorted ladieswho entered the script. I never thought it as much fun asTarzan, and I played that summer with more than vagueanxietydespiteJem'sassurancesthatBooRadleywasdeadandnothing would get me, with him and Calpurnia there in thedaytimeandAtticushomeatnight.

Jemwasabornhero.

Itwasamelancholylittledrama,wovenfrombitsandscrapsofgossip and neighborhood legend: Mrs. Radley had beenbeautiful until shemarriedMr. Radley and lost all hermoney.She also lost most of her teeth, her hair, and her rightforefinger (Dill's contribution.Boobit itoffonenightwhenhecouldn't find any cats and squirrels to eat.); she sat in thelivingroomandcriedmostofthetime,whileBooslowlywhittledawayallthefurnitureinthehouse

.

Thethreeofusweretheboyswhogotintotrouble;Iwastheprobate judge, for a change;Dill led Jemaway and crammedhimbeneath thesteps,pokinghimwith thebrushbroom. Jemwouldreappearasneededintheshapesofthesheriff,assortedtownsfolk,andMissStephanieCrawford,whohadmoretosayabouttheRadleysthananybodyinMaycomb.

WhenitwastimetoplayBoo'sbigscene,Jemwouldsneakintothehouse, steal the scissors from the sewing-machinedrawerwhenCalpurnia'sbackwasturned,thensitintheswingandcutup newspapers. Dill would walk by, cough at Jem, and Jemwould fake a plunge into Dill's thigh. From where I stood itlookedreal.

WhenMr.NathanRadleypassedusonhisdailytriptotown,wewould stand still and silent until he was out of sight, thenwonderwhathewoulddotous ifhesuspected.Ouractivitieshalted when any of the neighbors appeared, and once I sawMissMaudieAtkinsonstaringacrossthestreetatus,herhedgeclipperspoisedinmidair.

OnedayweweresobusilyplayingChapterXXV,BookIIofOneMan'sFamily,wedidnot seeAtticus standingon thesidewalklookingatus,slappingarolledmagazineagainsthisknee.Thesunsaidtwelvenoon.

"Whatareyouallplaying?"heasked.

"Nothing,"saidJem.

Jem'sevasiontoldmeourgamewasasecret,soIkeptquiet.

"What are you doing with those scissors, then?Why are youtearingupthatnewspaper?Ifit'stoday'sI'lltanyou."

"Nothing."

"Nothingwhat?"saidAtticus.

"Nothing,sir."

"Give me those scissors," Atticus said. "They're no things toplaywith.DoesthisbyanychancehaveanythingtodowiththeRadleys?"

"Nosir,"saidJem,reddening.

"Ihopeitdoesn't,"hesaidshortly,andwentinsidethehouse.

"Je-m..."

"Shutup!He'sgoneinthelivingroom,hecanhearusinthere."

Safelyintheyard,DillaskedJemifwecouldplayanymore.

"Idon'tknow.Atticusdidn'tsaywecouldn't-"

"Jem,"Isaid,"IthinkAtticusknowsitanyway."

"Nohedon't.Ifhedidhe'dsayhedid."

Iwasnotsosure,butJemtoldmeIwasbeingagirl,thatgirlsalwaysimaginedthings,that'swhyotherpeoplehatedthemso,and if I startedbehaving like one I could just go off and findsometoplaywith.

"Allright,youjustkeepitupthen,"Isaid."You'llfindout."

Atticus's arrival was the second reason I wanted to quit thegame. The first reason happened the day I rolled into theRadley front yard. Through all the head-shaking, quelling ofnausea and Jem-yelling, I had heard another sound, so low Icouldnothavehearditfromthesidewalk.Someoneinsidethehousewaslaughing.

5

Mynagginggot thebetterof Jemeventually, as I knew itwould,andtomyreliefwesloweddownthegameforawhile.He still maintained, however, that Atticus hadn't said wecouldn't, therefore we could; and if Atticus ever said wecouldn't,Jemhadthoughtofawayaroundit:hewouldsimplychange the names of the characters and thenwe couldn't beaccusedofplayinganything.

Dillwas inheartyagreementwith thisplanofaction.Dillwasbecomingsomethingofatrialanyway,followingJemabout.Hehad asked me earlier in the summer to marry him, then hepromptly forgot about it. He staked me out, marked as hisproperty, said Iwas theonlygirlhewouldever love, thenheneglectedme.Ibeathimuptwicebut itdidnogood,heonlygrewclosertoJem.Theyspentdaystogetherinthetreehouseplottingandplanning,callingmeonlywhentheyneededathirdparty.ButIkeptalooffromtheirmorefoolhardyschemesforawhile, and on pain of being called a girl, I spentmost of theremaining twilights that summer sitting with Miss MaudieAtkinsononherfrontporch.

Jem and I had always enjoyed the free run of Miss Maudie'syardifwekeptoutofherazaleas,butourcontactwithherwasnot clearlydefined.Until JemandDill excludedme from theirplans, she was only another lady in the neighborhood, but arelativelybenignpresence.

OurtacittreatywithMissMaudiewasthatwecouldplayonherlawn,eatherscuppernongsifwedidn'tjumponthearbor,andexplorehervastbacklot,termssogenerousweseldomspoketoher, so carefulwerewe topreserve thedelicatebalanceofour relationship,but JemandDilldrovemecloser toherwith

theirbehavior.

Miss Maudie hated her house: time spent indoors was timewasted.Shewasawidow,achameleonladywhoworkedinherflowerbeds inanoldstrawhatandmen'scoveralls,butafterherfiveo'clockbathshewouldappearontheporchandreignoverthestreetinmagisterialbeauty.

ShelovedeverythingthatgrewinGod'searth,eventheweeds.With one exception. If she found a blade of nut grass in heryard itwas like theSecondBattleof theMarne:sheswoopeddown upon it with a tin tub and subjected it to blasts frombeneathwithapoisonoussubstanceshesaidwassopowerfulit'dkillusallifwedidn'tstandoutoftheway.

"Why can't you just pull it up?" I asked, after witnessing aprolongedcampaignagainstabladenotthreeincheshigh.

"Pullitup,child,pullitup?"Shepickedupthelimpsproutandsqueezedherthumbupitstinystalk.Microscopicgrainsoozedout. "Why,onesprigofnutgrasscanruinawholeyard.Lookhere.Whenitcomesfallthisdriesupandthewindblowsitallover Maycomb County!" Miss Maudie's face likened such anoccurrenceuntoanOldTestamentpestilence.

Her speech was crisp for a Maycomb County inhabitant. Shecalledusbyallournames,andwhenshegrinnedsherevealedtwo minute gold prongs clipped to her eyeteeth. When Iadmired them and hoped I would have some eventually, shesaid,"Lookhere."Withaclickofhertongueshethrustoutherbridgework, a gesture of cordiality that cemented ourfriendship.

MissMaudie'sbenevolenceextendedtoJemandDill,whenevertheypausedintheirpursuits:wereapedthebenefitsofatalentMissMaudie hadhitherto kept hidden fromus. Shemade thebest cakes in the neighborhood.When shewas admitted intoourconfidence,everytimeshebakedshemadeabigcakeand

three little ones, and she would call across the street: "JemFinch, Scout Finch, Charles Baker Harris, come here!" Ourpromptnesswasalwaysrewarded.

Insummertime, twilightsare longandpeaceful.Oftenasnot,MissMaudieandIwouldsitsilentlyonherporch,watchingthesky go from yellow to pink as the sun went down, watchingflights of martins sweep low over the neighborhood anddisappearbehindtheschoolhouserooftops.

"MissMaudie," Isaidoneevening,"doyouthinkBooRadley'sstillalive?"

"Hisname'sArthurandhe'salive," she said.Shewas rockingslowlyinherbigoakchair."Doyousmellmymimosa?It'slikeangels'breaththisevening."

"Yessum.Howdoyouknow?"

"Knowwhat,child?"

"ThatB-Mr.Arthur'sstillalive?"

"Whatamorbidquestion.ButIsupposeit'samorbidsubject.Iknow he's alive, Jean Louise, because I haven't seen himcarriedoutyet."

"Maybehediedandtheystuffedhimupthechimney."

"Wheredidyougetsuchanotion?"

"That'swhatJemsaidhethoughttheydid."

"S-ss-ss.HegetsmorelikeJackFincheveryday."

Miss Maudie had known Uncle Jack Finch, Atticus's brother,sincetheywerechildren.Nearlythesameage,theyhadgrownup togetheratFinch'sLanding.MissMaudiewas thedaughterof a neighboring landowner, Dr. Frank Buford. Dr. Buford's

profession wasmedicine and his obsession was anything thatgrew in the ground, so he stayed poor. Uncle Jack Finchconfined his passion for digging to his window boxes inNashvilleandstayedrich.WesawUncleJackeveryChristmas,andeveryChristmasheyelledacrossthestreetforMissMaudietocomemarryhim.MissMaudiewouldyellback, "Calla littlelouder, Jack Finch, and they'll hear you at the post office, Ihaven'theardyouyet!"JemandIthoughtthisastrangewaytoask for a lady's hand in marriage, but then Uncle Jack wasratherstrange.HesaidhewastryingtogetMissMaudie'sgoat,thathehadbeentryingunsuccessfully for fortyyears,thathewasthelastpersonintheworldMissMaudiewouldthinkaboutmarrying but the first person she thought about teasing, andthe best defense to her was spirited offense, all of which weunderstoodclearly.

"Arthur Radley just stays in the house, that's all," said MissMaudie. "Wouldn't you stay in thehouse if youdidn'twant tocomeout?"

"Yessum,butI'dwantacomeout.Whydoesn'the?"

MissMaudie'seyesnarrowed."YouknowthatstoryaswellasIdo."

"Ineverheardwhy,though.Nobodyevertoldmewhy."

MissMaudie settledherbridgework. "YouknowoldMr.Radleywasafoot-washingBaptist-"

"That'swhatyouare,ain'tit?"

"Myshell'snotthathard,child.I'mjustaBaptist."

"Don'tyouallbelieveinfoot-washing?"

"Wedo.Athomeinthebathtub."

"Butwecan'thavecommunionwithyouall-"

Apparently deciding that it was easier to define primitivebaptistry than closed communion, Miss Maudie said: "Foot-washersbelieveanythingthat'spleasureisasin.Didyouknowsomeof 'emcameoutof thewoodsoneSaturdayandpassedby this place and told meme andmy flowers were going tohell?"

"Yourflowers,too?"

"Yesma'am.They'dburn rightwithme.They thought I spenttoomuch time in God's outdoors and not enough time insidethehousereadingtheBible."

My confidence in pulpit Gospel lessened at the vision of MissMaudiestewingforeverinvariousProtestanthells.Trueenough,shehadanacidtongueinherhead,andshedidnotgoabouttheneighborhooddoinggood,asdidMissStephanieCrawford.ButwhilenoonewithagrainofsensetrustedMissStephanie,JemandIhadconsiderablefaithinMissMaudie.Shehadnevertoldonus,hadneverplayedcat-and-mousewithus, shewasnot at all interested in our private lives. She was our friend.Howso reasonablea creaturecould live inperil ofeverlastingtormentwasincomprehensible.

"Thatain'tright,MissMaudie.You'rethebestladyIknow."

MissMaudiegrinned."Thankyouma'am.Thingis,foot-washersthink women are a sin by definition. They take the Bibleliterally,youknow."

"IsthatwhyMr.Arthurstays inthehouse,tokeepawayfromwomen?"

"I'venoidea."

"It doesn't make sense to me. Looks like if Mr. Arthur washankerin' after heaven he'd come out on the porch at least.AtticussaysGod'slovingfolkslikeyouloveyourself-"

MissMaudiestoppedrocking,andhervoicehardened."Youaretooyoungtounderstandit,"shesaid,"butsometimestheBiblein thehandofoneman isworse thanawhiskeybottle in thehandof-oh,ofyourfather."

I was shocked. "Atticus doesn't drink whiskey," I said. "Henever drunk a drop in his life- nome, yes he did. He said hedranksomeonetimeanddidn'tlikeit."

Miss Maudie laughed. "Wasn't talking about your father," shesaid. "What I meant was, if Atticus Finch drank until he wasdrunkhewouldn'tbeashardas somemenareat theirbest.Therearejustsomekindofmenwho-who'resobusyworryingaboutthenextworldthey'venever learnedto live inthisone,andyoucanlookdownthestreetandseetheresults."

"Doyou think they're true,all those things theysayaboutB-Mr.Arthur?"

"Whatthings?"

Itoldher.

"That is three-fourths colored folks and one-fourth StephanieCrawford," saidMissMaudiegrimly. "StephanieCrawfordeventoldmeonceshewokeupinthemiddleofthenightandfoundhim looking in the window at her. I said what did you do,Stephanie,moveoverinthebedandmakeroomforhim?Thatshutherupawhile."

I was sure it did. Miss Maudie's voice was enough to shutanybodyup.

"No,child,"shesaid,"that isasadhouse. I rememberArthurRadleywhenhewasaboy.Healwaysspokenicely tome,nomatterwhatfolkssaidhedid.Spokeasnicelyasheknewhow."

"Youreckonhe'scrazy?"

MissMaudieshookherhead."Ifhe'snotheshouldbebynow.The things thathappen topeoplewenever reallyknow.Whathappensinhousesbehindcloseddoors,whatsecrets-"

"Atticusdon'teverdoanythingtoJemandmeinthehousethathedon'tdointheyard,"Isaid,feelingitmydutytodefendmyparent.

"Gracious child, Iwas raveling a thread,wasn't even thinkingaboutyourfather,butnowthatIamI'llsaythis:AtticusFinchis thesame inhishouseashe isonthepublicstreets.How'dyoulikesomefreshpoundcaketotakehome?"

Ilikeditverymuch.

NextmorningwhenIawakenedIfoundJemandDillinthebackyarddeep inconversation.WhenI joined them,asusual theysaidgoaway.

"Willnot.Thisyard'sasmuchmineasitisyours,JemFinch.Igotjustasmuchrighttoplayinitasyouhave."

DillandJememergedfromabriefhuddle:"Ifyoustayyou'vegottodowhatwetellyou,"Dillwarned.

"We-ll,"Isaid,"who'ssohighandmightyallofasudden?"

"Ifyoudon'tsayyou'lldowhatwetellyou,weain'tgonnatellyouanything,"Dillcontinued.

"Youactlikeyougrewteninchesinthenight!Allright,whatisit?"

Jemsaidplacidly,"WearegoingtogiveanotetoBooRadley."

"Just how?" I was trying to fight down the automatic terrorrisinginme.ItwasallrightforMissMaudietotalk-shewasoldandsnugonherporch.Itwasdifferentforus.

Jemwasmerelygoingtoput thenoteontheendofa fishingpole and stick it through the shutters. If anyone came along,Dillwouldringthebell.

Dill raisedhis righthand. In itwasmymother'ssilverdinner-bell.

"I'm goin' around to the side of the house," said Jem. "Welookedyesterday fromacross thestreet,andthere'sashutterloose. Thinkmaybe I canmake it stick on thewindow sill, atleast."

"Jem-"

"Nowyou'reinitandyoucan'tgetoutofit,you'lljuststayinit,MissPriss!"

"Okay,okay,butIdon'twantawatch.Jem,somebodywas-"

"Yes you will, you'll watch the back end of the lot and Dill'sgonna watch the front of the house an' up the street, an' ifanybodycomeshe'llringthebell.Thatclear?"

"Allrightthen.What'dyouwritehim?"

Dillsaid,"We'reaskin'himrealpolitelytocomeoutsometimes,andtelluswhathedoesinthere-wesaidwewouldn'thurthimandwe'dbuyhimanicecream."

"Youall'vegonecrazy,he'llkillus!"

Dillsaid,"It'smyidea.Ifigureifhe'dcomeoutandsitaspellwithushemightfeelbetter."

"Howdoyouknowhedon'tfeelgood?"

"Wellhow'dyoufeelifyou'dbeenshutupforahundredyearswith nothin' but cats to eat? I bet he's got a beard down tohere-"

"Likeyourdaddy's?"

"He ain't got a beard, he-" Dill stopped, as if trying toremember.

"Uh huh, caughtcha," I said. "You said 'fore youwere off thetraingoodyourdaddyhadablackbeard-"

"Ifit'sallthesametoyouheshaveditofflastsummer!Yeah,an'I'vegotthelettertoproveit-hesentmetwodollars,too!"

"Keepon-Ireckonheevensentyouamountedpoliceuniform!That'n never showed up, did it? You just keep on tellin' 'em,son-"

DillHarriscouldtellthebiggestonesIeverheard.Amongotherthings,hehadbeenupinamailplaneseventeentimes,hehadbeen to Nova Scotia, he had seen an elephant, and hisgranddaddywasBrigadierGeneralJoeWheelerandlefthimhissword.

"You all hush," said Jem. He scuttled beneath the house andcame out with a yellow bamboo pole. "Reckon this is longenoughtoreachfromthesidewalk?"

"Anybody who's brave enough to go up and touch the househadn't oughta use a fishin' pole," I said. "Why don't you justknockthefrontdoordown?"

"This-is-different,"saidJem,"howmanytimesdoIhavetotellyouthat?"DilltookapieceofpaperfromhispocketandgaveittoJem.Thethreeofuswalkedcautiouslytowardtheoldhouse.Dillremainedatthelight-poleonthefrontcornerofthelot,andJemandIedgeddownthesidewalkparalleltothesideofthehouse.IwalkedbeyondJemandstoodwhereIcouldseearoundthecurve."Allclear,"Isaid."Notasoulinsight."JemlookedupthesidewalktoDill,whonodded.Jemattachedthenotetotheendofthefishingpole,letthepoleoutacrossthe

yardandpushedittowardthewindowhehadselected.Thepolelackedseveralinchesofbeinglongenough,andJemleanedoverasfarashecould.Iwatchedhimmakingjabbingmotionsforsolong,Iabandonedmypostandwenttohim."Can'tgetitoffthepole,"hemuttered,"orifIgotitoffIcan'tmakeitstay.G'onbackdownthestreet,Scout."

I returned and gazed around the curve at the empty road.OccasionallyI lookedbackatJem,whowaspatientlytryingtoplacethenoteonthewindowsill.Itwouldfluttertothegroundand Jem would jab it up, until I thought if Boo Radley everreceived ithewouldn'tbeable to read it. Iwas lookingdownthestreetwhenthedinner-bellrang.

Shoulderup,IreeledaroundtofaceBooRadleyandhisbloodyfangs; instead, I sawDill ringing thebellwithallhismight inAtticus'sface.

Jem looked so awful I didn't have the heart to tell him I toldhimso.Hetrudgedalong,draggingthepolebehindhimonthesidewalk.

Atticussaid,"Stopringingthatbell."

Dillgrabbedtheclapper;inthesilencethatfollowed,Iwishedhe'dstartringingitagain.Atticuspushedhishattothebackofhisheadandputhishandsonhiships."Jem,"hesaid,"whatwereyoudoing?"

"Nothin',sir."

"Idon'twantanyofthat.Tellme."

"Iwas-wewerejusttryin'togivesomethin'toMr.Radley."

"Whatwereyoutryingtogivehim?"

"Justaletter."

"Letmeseeit."

Jemheldoutafilthypieceofpaper.Atticustookitandtriedtoreadit."WhydoyouwantMr.Radleytocomeout?"

Dillsaid,"Wethoughthemightenjoyus..."anddriedupwhenAtticuslookedathim.

"Son,"hesaidtoJem,"I'mgoingtotellyousomethingandtellyou one time: stop tormenting that man. That goes for theothertwoofyou."

What Mr. Radley did was his own business. If he wanted tocomeout,hewould.Ifhewantedtostayinsidehisownhousehe had the right to stay inside free from the attentions ofinquisitivechildren,whichwasamild term for the likesofus.How would we like it if Atticus barged in on us withoutknocking, when we were in our rooms at night?We were, ineffect,doingthesamethingtoMr.Radley.WhatMr.Radleydidmightseempeculiartous,butitdidnotseempeculiartohim.Furthermore,had itneveroccurred tous that thecivilway tocommunicatewithanotherbeingwasbythefrontdoorinsteadofasidewindow?Lastly,weweretostayawayfromthathouseuntil we were invited there, we were not to play an asininegamehehadseenusplayingormake funofanybodyon thisstreetorinthistown-

"We weren't makin' fun of him, we weren't laughin' at him,"saidJem,"wewerejust-"

"Sothatwaswhatyouweredoing,wasn'tit?"

"Makin'funofhim?"

"No," saidAtticus, "puttinghis life's history ondisplay for theedificationoftheneighborhood."

Jemseemedtoswellalittle."Ididn'tsayweweredoin'that,Ididn'tsayit!"

Atticusgrinneddryly."Youjusttoldme,"hesaid."Youstopthisnonsenserightnow,everyoneofyou."

Jemgapedathim.

"Youwant tobea lawyer,don'tyou?"Our father'smouthwassuspiciouslyfirm,asifheweretryingtoholditinline.

Jem decided there was no point in quibbling, and was silent.When Atticus went inside the house to retrieve a file he hadforgottentotaketoworkthatmorning,Jemfinallyrealizedthathehadbeendoneinbytheoldestlawyer'strickonrecord.Hewaited a respectful distance from the front steps, watchedAtticus leave the house and walk toward town. When AtticuswasoutofearshotJemyelledafterhim:"IthoughtIwantedtobealawyerbutIain'tsosurenow!"

6

"Yes,"saidourfather,whenJemaskedhimifwecouldgooverandsitbyMissRachel's fishpoolwithDill,as thiswashis lastnight inMaycomb."Tellhimso longforme,andwe'llseehimnextsummer."

We leapedoverthe lowwall thatseparatedMissRachel'syardfromourdriveway.Jemwhistledbob-whiteandDillansweredinthedarkness.

"Notabreathblowing,"saidJem."Lookayonder."

Hepointedtotheeast.AgiganticmoonwasrisingbehindMissMaudie'specantrees."Thatmakesitseemhotter,"hesaid.

"Cross in it tonight?" asked Dill, not looking up. He wasconstructingacigarettefromnewspaperandstring.

"No,justthelady.Don'tlightthatthing,Dill,you'llstinkupthiswholeendoftown."

TherewasaladyinthemooninMaycomb.Shesatatadressercombingherhair.

"We'regonnamissyou,boy," Isaid. "ReckonwebetterwatchforMr.Avery?"

Mr.AveryboardedacrossthestreetfromMrs.HenryLafayetteDubose'shouse.Besidesmakingchange inthecollectionplateeverySunday,Mr.Averysatontheporcheverynightuntilnineo'clockandsneezed.Oneeveningwewereprivilegedtowitnessaperformancebyhimwhichseemedtohavebeenhispositivelylast,forheneverdiditagainsolongaswewatched.JemandIwere leaving Miss Rachel's front steps one night when Dill

stoppedus:"Golly,lookayonder."Hepointedacrossthestreet.Atfirstwesawnothingbutakudzu-coveredfrontporch,butacloserinspectionrevealedanarcofwaterdescendingfromtheleaves and splashing in the yellow circle of the street light,sometenfeetfromsourcetoearth,itseemedtous.JemsaidMr.Averymisfigured,Dillsaidhemustdrinkagallonaday,andthe ensuing contest to determine relative distances andrespectiveprowessonlymademefeel leftoutagain,asIwasuntalentedinthisarea.

Dillstretched,yawned,andsaidaltogethertoocasually."Iknowwhat,let'sgoforawalk."

He sounded fishy tome. Nobody inMaycomb justwent for awalk."Whereto,Dill?"

Dilljerkedhisheadinasoutherlydirection.

Jemsaid,"Okay."WhenIprotested,hesaidsweetly,"Youdon'thavetocomealong,AngelMay."

"Youdon'thavetogo.Remember-"

Jemwasnotonetodwellonpastdefeats: itseemedtheonlymessagehegot fromAtticuswas insight into the art of crossexamination. "Scout, we ain't gonna do anything, we're justgoin'tothestreetlightandback."

Westrolledsilentlydownthesidewalk,listeningtoporchswingscreakingwith theweightof theneighborhood, listening to thesoft night-murmurs of the grown people on our street.OccasionallyweheardMissStephanieCrawfordlaugh.

"Well?"saidDill.

"Okay,"saidJem."Whydon'tyougoonhome,Scout?"

"Whatareyougonnado?"

DillandJemweresimplygoingtopeepinthewindowwiththelooseshuttertoseeiftheycouldgetalookatBooRadley,andif Ididn'twant togowith themI couldgostraighthomeandkeepmyfatfloppingmouthshut,thatwasall.

"Butwhatinthesamholyhilldidyouwaittilltonight?"

Becausenobodycouldseethematnight,becauseAtticuswouldbe so deep in a book he wouldn't hear the Kingdom coming,becauseifBooRadleykilledthemthey'dmissschoolinsteadofvacation,andbecauseitwaseasiertoseeinsideadarkhouseinthedarkthaninthedaytime,didIunderstand?

"Jem,please-"

"Scout, I'm tellin' you for the last time, shut your trap or gohome-IdeclaretotheLordyou'regettin'morelikeagirleveryday!"

Withthat,Ihadnooptionbuttojointhem.WethoughtitwasbettertogounderthehighwirefenceattherearoftheRadleylot,westood lesschanceofbeingseen.The fenceenclosedalargegardenandanarrowwoodenouthouse.

Jem held up the bottom wire and motioned Dill under it. Ifollowed,andheldupthewireforJem.Itwasatightsqueezeforhim. "Don'tmakea sound,"hewhispered. "Don't get in arowofcollardswhateveryoudo,they'llwakethedead."

Withthisthoughtinmind,Imadeperhapsonestepperminute.I moved faster when I saw Jem far ahead beckoning in themoonlight.Wecame to thegate thatdivided thegarden fromthebackyard.Jemtouchedit.Thegatesqueaked.

"Spitonit,"whisperedDill.

"You'vegotusinabox,Jem,"Imuttered."Wecan'tgetoutofheresoeasy."

"Sh-h.Spitonit,Scout."

Wespatourselvesdry,andJemopenedthegateslowly,liftingitasideandrestingitonthefence.Wewereinthebackyard.

ThebackoftheRadleyhousewaslessinvitingthanthefront:aramshackleporch ran thewidthof thehouse; therewere twodoors and twodarkwindowsbetween thedoors. Insteadof acolumn,aroughtwo-by-foursupportedoneendoftheroof.AnoldFranklinstovesatinacorneroftheporch;aboveitahat-rackmirrorcaughtthemoonandshoneeerily.

"Ar-r,"saidJemsoftly,liftinghisfoot.

"'Smatter?"

"Chickens,"hebreathed.

That we would be obliged to dodge the unseen from alldirectionswasconfirmedwhenDillaheadofusspelledG-o-dina whisper. We crept to the side of the house, around to thewindow with the hanging shutter. The sill was several inchestallerthanJem.

"Giveyouahandup,"hemutteredtoDill."Wait,though."Jemgrabbedhisleftwristandmyrightwrist,IgrabbedmyleftwristandJem'srightwrist,wecrouched,andDillsatonoursaddle.Weraisedhimandhecaughtthewindowsill.

"Hurry,"Jemwhispered,"wecan'tlastmuchlonger."

Dillpunchedmyshoulder,andweloweredhimtotheground.

"What'dyousee?"

"Nothing. Curtains. There's a little teeny light way offsomewhere,though."

"Let's get away fromhere," breathed Jem. "Let's go 'round in

backagain.Sh-h,"hewarnedme,asIwasabouttoprotest.

"Let'strythebackwindow."

"Dill,no,"Isaid.

Dill stoppedand let Jemgoahead.When Jemputhis footonthebottomstep, the step squeaked.He stood still, then triedhis weight by degrees. The step was silent. Jem skipped twosteps, put his foot on the porch, heaved himself to it, andteeteredalongmoment.Heregainedhisbalanceanddroppedto his knees. He crawled to the window, raised his head andlookedin.

ThenIsawtheshadow.Itwastheshadowofamanwithahaton. At first I thought it was a tree, but there was no windblowing, and tree-trunks never walked. The back porch wasbathed in moonlight, and the shadow, crisp as toast, movedacrosstheporchtowardJem.

Dillsawitnext.Heputhishandstohisface.

WhenitcrossedJem,Jemsawit.Heputhisarmsoverhisheadandwentrigid.

The shadow stopped about a foot beyond Jem. Its arm cameout from its side, dropped, and was still. Then it turned andmoved back across Jem, walked along the porch and off thesideofthehouse,returningasithadcome.

Jemleapedofftheporchandgallopedtowardus.Heflungopenthegate,dancedDillandmethrough,andshooedusbetweentwo rows of swishing collards. Halfway through the collards Itripped; as I tripped the roar of a shotgun shattered theneighborhood.

Dill and Jem dived beside me. Jem's breath came in sobs:"Fencebytheschoolyard!-hurry,Scout!"

Jemheld thebottomwire;Dill and I rolled throughandwerehalfwaytotheshelteroftheschoolyard'ssolitaryoakwhenwesensedthatJemwasnotwithus.Weranbackandfoundhimstrugglinginthefence,kickinghispantsofftogetloose.Herantotheoaktreeinhisshorts.

Safely behind it, we gave way to numbness, but Jem's mindwasracing:"Wegottagethome,they'llmissus."

Weranacrosstheschoolyard,crawledunderthefencetoDeer'sPasturebehindourhouse,climbedourbackfenceandwereatthebackstepsbeforeJemwouldletuspausetorest.

Respiration normal, the three of us strolled as casually aswecould to the frontyard.We lookeddownthestreetandsawacircleofneighborsattheRadleyfrontgate.

"Webettergodownthere,"saidJem."They'llthinkit'sfunnyifwedon'tshowup."

Mr. Nathan Radley was standing inside his gate, a shotgunbrokenacrosshisarm.AtticuswasstandingbesideMissMaudieandMissStephanieCrawford.MissRachelandMr.Averywerenearby.Noneofthemsawuscomeup.

We eased in besideMissMaudie, who looked around. "Wherewereyouall,didn'tyouhearthecommotion?"

"Whathappened?"askedJem.

"Mr.RadleyshotataNegroinhiscollardpatch."

"Oh.Didhehithim?"

"No," said Miss Stephanie. "Shot in the air. Scared him pale,though.Saysifanybodyseesawhiteniggeraround,that'stheone.Sayshe'sgottheotherbarrelwaitin'forthenextsoundhehearsinthatpatch,an'nexttimehewon'taimhigh,beitdog,nigger,or-JemFinch!"

"Ma'am?"askedJem.

Atticusspoke."Where'reyourpants,son?"

"Pants,sir?"

"Pants."

It was no use. In his shorts before God and everybody. Isighed.

"Ah-Mr.Finch?"

Intheglarefromthestreetlight,IcouldseeDillhatchingone:hiseyeswidened,hisfatcherubfacegrewrounder.

"Whatisit,Dill?"askedAtticus.

"Ah-Iwon'emfromhim,"hesaidvaguely.

"Wonthem?How?"

Dill'shandsought thebackofhishead.Hebrought it forwardandacrosshisforehead."Wewereplayin'strippokerupyonderbythefishpool,"hesaid.

Jem and I relaxed. The neighbors seemed satisfied: they allstiffened.Butwhatwasstrippoker?

We had no chance to find out: Miss Rachel went off like thetown fire siren: "Do-o-o Jee-sus, Dill Harris! Gamblin' by myfishpool?I'llstrip-pokeryou,sir!"

Atticus saved Dill from immediate dismemberment. "Just aminute,MissRachel," he said. "I'venever heardof 'emdoingthatbefore.Wereyouallplayingcards?"

Jem fielded Dill's fly with his eyes shut: "No sir, just withmatches."

Iadmiredmybrother.Matchesweredangerous,butcardswerefatal.

"Jem,Scout,"saidAtticus,"Idon'twanttohearofpokerinanyform again. Go by Dill's and get your pants, Jem. Settle ityourselves."

"Don't worry, Dill," said Jem, as we trotted up the sidewalk,"sheain'tgonnagetyou.He'lltalkheroutofit.Thatwasfastthinkin',son.Listen...youhear?"

Westopped,andheardAtticus'svoice:"...notserious...theyallgothroughit,MissRachel...."

Dill was comforted, but Jem and I weren't. There was theproblemofJemshowingupsomepantsinthemorning.

"'d give you some of mine," said Dill, as we came to MissRachel's steps. Jem said he couldn't get in them, but thanksanyway.Wesaidgood-bye,andDillwent insidethehouse.Heevidentlyrememberedhewasengagedtome,forheranbackoutandkissedmeswiftlyinfrontofJem."Yawlwrite,hear?"hebawledafterus.

HadJem'spantsbeensafelyonhim,wewouldnothavesleptmuch anyway. Every night-sound I heard frommy cot on thebackporchwasmagnified three-fold;every scratchof feetongravel was Boo Radley seeking revenge, every passing NegrolaughinginthenightwasBooRadleylooseandafterus;insectssplashingagainst the screenwereBooRadley's insane fingerspickingthewiretopieces;thechinaberrytreesweremalignant,hovering,alive.IlingeredbetweensleepandwakefulnessuntilIheardJemmurmur.

"Sleep,LittleThree-Eyes?"

"Areyoucrazy?"

"Sh-h.Atticus'slight'sout."

InthewaningmoonlightIsawJemswinghisfeettothefloor.

"I'mgoin'after'em,"hesaid.

Isatupright."Youcan't.Iwon'tletyou."

Hewasstrugglingintohisshirt."I'vegotto."

"Youdoan'I'llwakeupAtticus."

"YoudoandI'llkillyou."

Ipulledhimdownbesidemeonthecot.Itriedtoreasonwithhim. "Mr. Nathan's gonna find 'em in the morning, Jem. Heknowsyoulost'em.Whenheshows'emtoAtticusit'llbeprettybad,that'sallthereistoit.Go'nbacktobed."

"That's what I know," said Jem. "That's why I'm goin' after'em."

I began to feel sick. Going back to that place by himself- IrememberedMiss Stephanie:Mr. Nathan had the other barrelwaiting for the next sound he heard, be it nigger, dog... JemknewthatbetterthanI.

Iwasdesperate:"Look,itain'tworthit,Jem.Alickin'hurtsbutitdoesn'tlast.You'llgetyourheadshotoff,Jem.Please..."

He blew out his breath patiently. "I- it's like this, Scout," hemuttered."Atticusain'teverwhippedmesinceIcanremember.Iwantakeepitthatway."

Thiswasathought.ItseemedthatAtticusthreateneduseveryotherday."Youmeanhe'snevercaughtyouatanything."

"Maybe so, but- I just wanta keep it that way, Scout. Weshouldn'adonethattonight,Scout."

It was then, I suppose, that Jem and I first began to partcompany.SometimesIdidnotunderstandhim,butmyperiodsof bewilderment were short-lived. This was beyond me."Please," Ipleaded,"can'tcha just thinkabout it foraminute-byyourselfonthatplace-"

"Shutup!"

"It'snotlikehe'dneverspeaktoyouagainorsomethin'...I'mgonnawakehimup,Jem,IswearIam-"

Jemgrabbedmypajamacollarandwrenchedittight."ThenI'mgoin'withyou-"Ichoked.

"Noyouain't,you'lljustmakenoise."

Itwasnouse. Iunlatched thebackdoorandheld itwhilehecreptdownthesteps.Itmusthavebeentwoo'clock.Themoonwassettingandthelattice-workshadowswerefadingintofuzzynothingness. Jem's white shirt-tail dipped and bobbed like asmall ghost dancing away to escape the coming morning. Afaint breeze stirred and cooled the sweat running down mysides.

He went the back way, through Deer's Pasture, across theschoolyardandaroundtothefence,Ithought-atleastthatwasthewayhewasheaded.Itwouldtakelonger,soitwasnottimetoworryyet.IwaiteduntilitwastimetoworryandlistenedforMr. Radley's shotgun. Then I thought I heard the back fencesqueak.Itwaswishfulthinking.

ThenIheardAtticuscough.Iheldmybreath.Sometimeswhenwemadeamidnightpilgrimagetothebathroomwewouldfindhim reading. He said he often woke up during the night,checkedonus,andreadhimselfbacktosleep.Iwaitedforhislight to go on, straining my eyes to see it flood the hall. Itstayedoff,andIbreathedagain.

Thenight-crawlershad retired,but ripechinaberriesdrummedon the roof when the wind stirred, and the darkness wasdesolatewiththebarkingofdistantdogs.

Therehewas,returningtome.Hiswhiteshirtbobbedoverthebackfenceandslowlygrewlarger.Hecameupthebacksteps,latchedthedoorbehindhim,andsatonhiscot.Wordlessly,hehelduphispants.Helaydown,andforawhileIheardhiscottrembling.Soonhewasstill.Ididnothearhimstiragain.

7

Jemstayedmoodyandsilent foraweek.AsAtticushadonceadvised me to do, I tried to climb into Jem's skin and walkaround in it: if IhadgonealonetotheRadleyPlaceattwo inthe morning, my funeral would have been held the nextafternoon.SoIleftJemaloneandtriednottobotherhim.

Schoolstarted.Thesecondgradewasasbadasthefirst,onlyworse-theystillflashedcardsatyouandwouldn'tletyoureadorwrite.MissCaroline'sprogressnextdoorcouldbeestimatedby the frequency of laughter; however, the usual crew hadflunkedthefirstgradeagain,andwerehelpfulinkeepingorder.TheonlythinggoodaboutthesecondgradewasthatthisyearIhad to stay as late as Jem, and we usually walked hometogetheratthreeo'clock.

One afternoon when we were crossing the schoolyard towardhome,Jemsuddenlysaid:"There'ssomethingIdidn'ttellyou."

As this was his first complete sentence in several days, Iencouragedhim:"Aboutwhat?"

"Aboutthatnight."

"You'venevertoldmeanythingaboutthatnight,"Isaid.

Jemwavedmywordsawayas if fanninggnats.Hewas silentforawhile,thenhesaid,"WhenIwentbackformybreeches-they were all in a tangle when I was gettin' out of 'em, Icouldn't get 'em loose.When I went back-" Jem took a deepbreath."WhenIwentback,theywerefoldedacrossthefence...liketheywereexpectin'me."

"Across-"

"Andsomethingelse-"Jem'svoicewasflat."Showyouwhenweget home. They'd been sewedup.Not like a lady sewed 'em,likesomethin'I'dtrytodo.Allcrooked.It'salmostlike-"

"-somebodyknewyouwerecomin'backfor'em."

Jem shuddered. "Like somebody was readin' my mind... likesomebody could tell what Iwas gonna do. Can't anybody tellwhatI'mgonnadolesttheyknowme,canthey,Scout?"

Jem'squestionwasanappeal.Ireassuredhim:"Can'tanybodytellwhatyou'regonnadolesttheylive inthehousewithyou,andevenIcan'ttellsometimes."

Wewerewalkingpastourtree.Initsknot-holerestedaballofgraytwine.

"Don'ttakeit,Jem,"Isaid."Thisissomebody'shidin'place."

"Idon'tthinkso,Scout."

"Yesitis.SomebodylikeWalterCunninghamcomesdownhereeveryrecessandhideshisthings-andwecomealongandtake'emaway fromhim.Listen, let's leave it andwait a coupleofdays.Ifitain'tgonethen,we'lltakeit,okay?"

"Okay, youmight be right," said Jem. "Itmust be some littlekid'splace-hideshisthingsfromthebiggerfolks.Youknowit'sonlywhenschool'sinthatwe'vefoundthings."

"Yeah,"Isaid,"butwenevergobyhereinthesummertime."

Wewenthome.Nextmorningthetwinewaswherewehadleftit. When it was still there on the third day, Jem pocketed it.Fromthenon,weconsideredeverythingwefoundintheknot-holeourproperty.

Thesecondgradewasgrim,butJemassuredmethattheolder

Igotthebetterschoolwouldbe,thathestartedoff thesameway,anditwasnotuntilonereachedthesixthgradethatonelearned anything of value. The sixth grade seemed to pleasehim from the beginning: he went through a brief EgyptianPeriod that baffled me- he tried to walk flat a great deal,stickingonearminfrontofhimandoneinbackofhim,puttingone foot behind the other. He declared Egyptianswalked thatway;IsaidiftheydidIdidn'tseehowtheygotanythingdone,butJemsaidtheyaccomplishedmorethantheAmericanseverdid, they invented toilet paper and perpetual embalming, andaskedwherewouldwebetodayiftheyhadn't?AtticustoldmetodeletetheadjectivesandI'dhavethefacts.

There are no clearly defined seasons in South Alabama;summer drifts into autumn, and autumn is sometimes neverfollowed by winter, but turns to a days-old spring that meltsintosummeragain.Thatfallwasalongone,hardlycoolenoughforalightjacket.JemandIweretrottinginourorbitonemildOctober afternoon when our knot-hole stopped us again.Somethingwhitewasinsidethistime.

Jemletmedothehonors:Ipulledouttwosmallimagescarvedin soap.Onewas the figureof a boy, theotherworea crudedress.

Before I remembered that there was no such thing as hoo-dooing,Ishriekedandthrewthemdown.

Jem snatched them up. "What's the matter with you?" heyelled. He rubbed the figures free of red dust. "These aregood,"hesaid."I'veneverseenanythesegood."

Heheldthemdowntome.Theywerealmostperfectminiaturesof twochildren.Theboyhadonshorts,andashockof soapyhairfelltohiseyebrows.IlookedupatJem.Apointofstraightbrownhairkickeddownwardsfromhispart.Ihadnevernoticeditbefore.

Jem looked from thegirl-doll tome.Thegirl-dollworebangs.SodidI.

"Theseareus,"hesaid.

"Whodid'em,youreckon?"

"Whodoweknowaroundherewhowhittles?"heasked.

"Mr.Avery."

"Mr.Averyjustdoeslikethis.Imeancarves."

Mr.Averyaveragedastickofstovewoodperweek;hehoneditdowntoatoothpickandchewedit.

"There'soldMissStephanieCrawford'ssweetheart,"Isaid.

"Hecarvesallright,buthelivesdownthecountry.Whenwouldheeverpayanyattentiontous?"

"Maybe he sits on the porch and looks at us instead of MissStephanie.IfIwashim,Iwould."

JemstaredatmesolongIaskedwhatwasthematter,butgotNothing, Scout for an answer.Whenwewent home, Jem putthedollsinhistrunk.

Less than two weeks later we found a whole package ofchewing gum, which we enjoyed, the fact that everything ontheRadleyPlacewaspoisonhavingslippedJem'smemory.

The following week the knot-hole yielded a tarnished medal.JemshowedittoAtticus,whosaiditwasaspellingmedal,thatbeforewewereborntheMaycombCountyschoolshadspellingcontests and awarded medals to the winners. Atticus saidsomeone must have lost it, and had we asked around? Jemcamel-kickedmewhen I tried to saywherewe had found it.Jem asked Atticus if he remembered anybody who ever won

one,andAtticussaidno.

Our biggest prize appeared four days later. It was a pocketwatchthatwouldn'trun,onachainwithanaluminumknife.

"Youreckonit'swhitegold,Jem?"

"Don'tknow.I'llshowittoAtticus."

Atticussaiditwouldprobablybeworthtendollars,knife,chainand all, if it were new. "Did you swap with somebody atschool?"heasked.

"Oh,nosir!"Jempulledouthisgrandfather'swatchthatAtticuslethimcarryonceaweek if Jemwere carefulwith it.On thedayshecarriedthewatch,Jemwalkedoneggs."Atticus,ifit'sallrightwithyou,I'dratherhavethisoneinstead.MaybeIcanfixit."

Whenthenewworeoffhisgrandfather'swatch,andcarryingitbecame a day's burdensome task, Jem no longer felt thenecessityofascertainingthehoureveryfiveminutes.

Hedidafairjob,onlyonespringandtwotinypiecesleftover,butthewatchwouldnotrun."Oh-h,"hesighed,"it'llnevergo.Scout-?"

"Huh?"

"You reckonwe oughtawrite a letter to whoever's leaving usthesethings?"

"That'dberightnice,Jem,wecanthank'em-what'swrong?"

Jemwasholdinghisears,shakinghisheadfromsidetoside."Idon'tget it, I justdon'tget it-Idon'tknowwhy,Scout..."Helooked toward the livingroom. "I've gotta good mind to tellAtticus-no,Ireckonnot."

"I'lltellhimforyou."

"No,don'tdothat,Scout.Scout?"

"Wha-t?"

Hehadbeenonthevergeoftellingmesomethingallevening;hisfacewouldbrightenandhewouldleantowardme,thenhewouldchangehismind.Hechangeditagain."Oh,nothin'."

"Here, let'swrite a letter." I pusheda tablet andpencil underhisnose.

"Okay.DearMister..."

"How do you know it's a man? I bet it's Miss Maudie- beenbettin'thatforalongtime."

"Ar-r,MissMaudiecan'tchewgum-"Jembrokeintoagrin."Youknow,shecantalkrealprettysometimes.OnetimeIaskedherto have a chew and she said no thanks, that- chewing gumcleaved to her palate and rendered her speechless," said Jemcarefully."Doesn'tthatsoundnice?"

"Yeah,shecansaynicethingssometimes.Shewouldn'thaveawatchandchainanyway."

"Dear sir," said Jem. "We appreciate the- no, we appreciateeverythingwhichyouhaveputintothetreeforus.Yoursverytruly,JeremyAtticusFinch."

"Hewon'tknowwhoyouareifyousignitlikethat,Jem."

Jemerasedhis nameandwrote, "JemFinch." I signed, "JeanLouise Finch (Scout)," beneath it. Jem put the note in anenvelope.

Nextmorning on the way to school he ran ahead ofme andstoppedatthetree.Jemwasfacingmewhenhelookedup,and

Isawhimgostarkwhite.

"Scout!"

Irantohim.

Someonehadfilledourknot-holewithcement.

"Don'tyoucry,now,Scout...don'tcrynow,don'tyouworry-"hemutteredatmeallthewaytoschool.

WhenwewenthomefordinnerJemboltedhisfood,rantotheporchandstoodonthesteps.Ifollowedhim."Hasn'tpassedbyyet,"hesaid.

NextdayJemrepeatedhisvigilandwasrewarded.

"Hidydo,Mr.Nathan,"hesaid.

"MorningJem,Scout,"saidMr.Radley,ashewentby.

"Mr.Radley,"saidJem.

Mr.Radleyturnedaround.

"Mr. Radley, ah- did you put cement in that hole in that treedownyonder?"

"Yes,"hesaid."Ifilleditup."

"Why'dyoudoit,sir?"

"Tree'sdying.Youplug'emwithcementwhenthey'resick.Yououghttoknowthat,Jem."

Jemsaidnothingmoreabout ituntil lateafternoon.Whenwepassedourtreehegaveitameditativepatonitscement,andremained deep in thought. He seemed to be working himselfintoabadhumor,soIkeptmydistance.

Asusual,wemetAtticuscominghomefromworkthatevening.When we were at our steps Jem said, "Atticus, look downyonderatthattree,pleasesir."

"Whattree,son?"

"TheoneonthecorneroftheRadleylotcomin'fromschool."

"Yes?"

"Isthattreedyin'?"

"Whyno, son, Idon't think so. Lookat the leaves, they'reallgreenandfull,nobrownpatchesanywhere-"

"Itain'tevensick?"

"Thattree'sashealthyasyouare,Jem.Why?"

"Mr.NathanRadleysaiditwasdyin'."

"Wellmaybe it is. I'm sure Mr. Radley knowsmore about histreesthanwedo."

Atticusleftusontheporch.Jemleanedonapillar,rubbinghisshouldersagainstit.

"Doyou itch, Jem?" Iaskedaspolitelyas I could.Hedidnotanswer."Comeonin,Jem,"Isaid.

"Afterwhile."

He stood there until nightfall, and Iwaited for him.WhenwewentinthehouseIsawhehadbeencrying;hisfacewasdirtyin the right places, but I thought it odd that I had not heardhim.

8

ForreasonsunfathomabletothemostexperiencedprophetsinMaycombCounty, autumn turned towinter that year.We hadtwoweeksofthecoldestweathersince1885,Atticussaid.Mr.Avery said it was written on the Rosetta Stone that whenchildrendisobeyed theirparents, smokedcigarettesandmadewaroneachother,theseasonswouldchange:JemandIwereburdened with the guilt of contributing to the aberrations ofnature, thereby causing unhappiness to our neighbors anddiscomforttoourselves.

OldMrs.Radleydiedthatwinter,butherdeathcausedhardlyaripple- the neighborhood seldom saw her, except when shewateredhercannas.JemandIdecidedthatBoohadgotheratlast,butwhenAtticusreturnedfromtheRadleyhousehesaidshediedofnaturalcauses,toourdisappointment.

"Askhim,"Jemwhispered.

"Youaskhim,you'retheoldest."

"That'swhyyououghtaaskhim."

"Atticus,"Isaid,"didyouseeMr.Arthur?"

Atticuslookedsternlyaroundhisnewspaperatme:"Ididnot."

Jemrestrainedmefromfurtherquestions.HesaidAtticuswasstill touchous about us and the Radleys and itwouldn't do topush him any. Jem had a notion that Atticus thought ouractivities that night last summer were not solely confined tostrippoker.Jemhadnofirmbasisforhisideas,hesaiditwasmerelyatwitch.

NextmorningIawoke, lookedoutthewindowandnearlydiedof fright.My screamsbroughtAtticus fromhisbathroomhalf-shaven.

"Theworld'sendin',Atticus!Pleasedosomething-!" Idraggedhimtothewindowandpointed.

"Noit'snot,"hesaid."It'ssnowing."

JemaskedAtticuswoulditkeepup.Jemhadneverseensnoweither,butheknewwhatitwas.Atticussaidhedidn'tknowanymoreaboutsnowthanJemdid."Ithink,though, if it'swaterylikethat,it'llturntorain."

The telephone rang and Atticus left the breakfast table toanswer it. "ThatwasEulaMay," he saidwhenhe returned. "Iquote- 'As it has not snowed inMaycombCounty since 1885,therewillbenoschooltoday.'"

EulaMaywasMaycomb's leading telephoneoperator.Shewasentrusted with issuing public announcements, weddinginvitations, setting off the fire siren, and giving first-aidinstructionswhenDr.Reynoldswasaway.

WhenAtticusfinallycalledustoorderandbadeuslookatourplates instead of out the windows, Jem asked, "How do youmakeasnowman?"

"Ihaven'ttheslightestidea,"saidAtticus."Idon'twantyoualltobedisappointed,butIdoubtifthere'llbeenoughsnowforasnowball,even."

Calpurnia came inandsaid she thought itwassticking.Whenwerantothebackyard, itwascoveredwitha feeble layerofsoggysnow.

"Weshouldn'twalkaboutinit,"saidJem."Look,everystepyoutake'swastingit."

I looked back atmymushy footprints. Jem said if wewaiteduntil it snowed some more we could scrape it all up for asnowman. I stuck out my tongue and caught a fat flake. Itburned.

"Jem,it'shot!"

"Noitain't,it'ssocolditburns.Nowdon'teatit,Scout,you'rewastingit.Letitcomedown."

"ButIwanttowalkinit."

"Iknowwhat,wecangowalkoveratMissMaudie's."

Jem hopped across the front yard. I followed in his tracks.Whenwewere on the sidewalk in front of MissMaudie's, Mr.Averyaccostedus.Hehadapinkfaceandabigstomachbelowhisbelt.

"Seewhatyou'vedone?"hesaid."Hasn'tsnowed inMaycombsinceAppomattox.It'sbadchildrenlikeyoumakestheseasonschange."

I wondered if Mr. Avery knew how hopefully we had watchedlast summer for him to repeat his performance, and reflectedthatifthiswasourreward,therewassomethingtosayforsin.IdidnotwonderwhereMr.Averygatheredhismeteorologicalstatistics:theycamestraightfromtheRosettaStone.

"JemFinch,youJemFinch!"

"MissMaudie'scallin'you,Jem."

"You all stay in the middle of the yard. There's some thriftburiedunderthesnowneartheporch.Don'tsteponit!"

"Yessum!"calledJem."It'sbeautiful,ain'tit,MissMaudie?"

"Beautifulmyhindfoot!Ifitfreezestonightit'llcarryoffallmy

azaleas!"

MissMaudie'soldsunhatglistenedwithsnowcrystals.Shewasbending over some small bushes, wrapping them in burlapbags.Jemaskedherwhatshewasdoingthatfor.

"Keep'emwarm,"shesaid.

"Howcanflowerskeepwarm?Theydon'tcirculate."

"I cannot answer that question, Jem Finch. All I know is if itfreezes tonight these plants'll freeze, so you cover 'emup. Isthatclear?"

"Yessum.MissMaudie?"

"What,sir?"

"CouldScoutandmeborrowsomeofyoursnow?"

"Heavensalive, take it all! There's anold peachbasket underthe house, haul it off in that." Miss Maudie's eyes narrowed."JemFinch,whatareyougoingtodowithmysnow?"

"You'llsee,"saidJem,andwetransferredasmuchsnowaswecouldfromMissMaudie'syardtoours,aslushyoperation.

"Whatarewegonnado,Jem?"Iasked.

"You'llsee,"hesaid."Nowgetthebasketandhaulallthesnowyoucanrakeupfromthebackyardtothefront.Walkbackinyourtracks,though,"hecautioned.

"Arewegonnahaveasnowbaby,Jem?"

"No,arealsnowman.Gottaworkhard,now."

Jemrantothebackyard,producedthegardenhoeandbegandigging quickly behind the woodpile, placing any worms he

found to one side. He went in the house, returned with thelaundry hamper, filled itwith earth and carried it to the frontyard.

Whenwehad five baskets of earth and two baskets of snow,Jemsaidwewerereadytobegin.

"Don'tyouthinkthisiskindofamess?"Iasked.

"Looksmessynow,butitwon'tlater,"hesaid.

Jem scooped up an armful of dirt, patted it into amound onwhich he added another load, and another until he hadconstructedatorso.

"Jem,Iain'teverheardofaniggersnowman,"Isaid.

"Hewon'tbeblacklong,"hegrunted.

Jem procured some peachtree switches from the back yard,plaitedthem,andbentthemintobonestobecoveredwithdirt.

"HelookslikeStephanieCrawfordwithherhandsonherhips,"Isaid."Fatinthemiddleandlittle-bittyarms."

"I'llmake 'em bigger." Jem sloshed water over themudmanandaddedmoredirt.Helookedthoughtfullyatitforamoment,thenhemoldedabigstomachbelowthefigure'swaistline.Jemglancedatme,hiseyes twinkling: "Mr.Avery'ssortof shapedlikeasnowman,ain'the?"

Jem scooped up some snow and began plastering it on. Hepermittedmetocoveronlytheback,savingthepublicpartsforhimself.GraduallyMr.Averyturnedwhite.

Using bits of wood for eyes, nose, mouth, and buttons, JemsucceededinmakingMr.Averylookcross.Astickofstovewoodcompleted the picture. Jem stepped back and viewed hiscreation.

"It'slovely,Jem,"Isaid."Looksalmostlikehe'dtalktoyou."

"Itis,ain'tit?"hesaidshyly.

We could not wait for Atticus to come home for dinner, butcalled and said we had a big surprise for him. He seemedsurprisedwhenhesawmostofthebackyardinthefrontyard,buthesaidwehaddonea jim-dandy job. "Ididn'tknowhowyouweregoingtodoit,"hesaidtoJem,"butfromnowonI'llnever worry about what'll become of you, son, you'll alwayshaveanidea."

Jem'sears reddened fromAtticus'scompliment,buthe lookedupsharplywhenhesawAtticussteppingback.Atticussquintedat the snowman a while. He grinned, then laughed. "Son, Ican't tellwhatyou'regoing tobe-anengineer,a lawyer,oraportraitpainter.You'veperpetratedanearlibelhereinthefrontyard.We'vegottodisguisethisfellow."

Atticus suggested that Jem hone down his creation's front alittle, swap a broom for the stovewood, and put an apron onhim.

Jem explained that if he did, the snowman would becomemuddyandceasetobeasnowman.

"Idon'tcarewhatyoudo,so longasyoudosomething,"saidAtticus. "You can't go around making caricatures of theneighbors."

"Ain'tacharacterture,"saidJem."Itlooksjustlikehim."

"Mr.Averymightnotthinkso."

"I know what!" said Jem. He raced across the street,disappeared into Miss Maudie's back yard and returnedtriumphant.He stuck her sunhat on the snowman's head andjammed her hedge-clippers into the crook of his arm. Atticussaidthatwouldbefine.

MissMaudieopenedherfrontdoorandcameoutontheporch.Shelookedacrossthestreetatus.Suddenlyshegrinned."JemFinch,"shecalled."Youdevil,bringmebackmyhat,sir!"

Jem looked up at Atticus, who shook his head. "She's justfussing," he said. "She's really impressed with your-accomplishments."

Atticus strolled over to Miss Maudie's sidewalk, where theyengaged in an arm-waving conversation, the only phrase ofwhich I caughtwas "...erectedanabsolutemorphodite in thatyard!Atticus,you'llneverraise'em!"

The snowstopped in theafternoon, the temperaturedropped,and by nightfall Mr. Avery's direst predictions came true:Calpurniakepteveryfireplaceinthehouseblazing,butwewerecold.WhenAtticuscamehomethateveninghesaidwewereinforit,andaskedCalpurniaifshewantedtostaywithusforthenight. Calpurnia glanced up at the high ceilings and longwindowsandsaid she thought she'dbewarmeratherhouse.Atticusdroveherhomeinthecar.

BeforeIwenttosleepAtticusputmorecoalonthefire inmyroom.Hesaidthethermometerregisteredsixteen, that itwasthecoldestnightinhismemory,andthatoursnowmanoutsidewasfrozensolid.

Minutes later, itseemed,Iwasawakenedbysomeoneshakingme. Atticus's overcoat was spread across me. "Is it morningalready?"

"Baby,getup."

Atticuswasholdingoutmybathrobeandcoat. "Putyour robeonfirst,"hesaid.

Jemwas standingbesideAtticus, groggyand tousled.Hewasholding his overcoat closed at the neck, his other hand was

jammedintohispocket.Helookedstrangelyoverweight.

"Hurry,hon,"saidAtticus."Here'reyourshoesandsocks."

Stupidly,Iputthemon."Isitmorning?"

"No,it'salittleafterone.Hurrynow."

That somethingwaswrong finally got through tome. "What'sthematter?"

By then he did not have to tell me. Just as the birds knowwheretogowhenitrains,Iknewwhentherewastroubleinourstreet. Soft taffeta-like sounds and muffled scurrying soundsfilledmewithhelplessdread.

"Whoseisit?"

"MissMaudie's,hon,"saidAtticusgently.

At the front door, we saw fire spewing from Miss Maudie'sdiningroomwindows. As if to confirmwhatwe saw, the townfire siren wailed up the scale to a treble pitch and remainedthere,screaming.

"It'sgone,ain'tit?"moanedJem.

"Iexpect so," saidAtticus. "Now listen,bothofyou.GodownandstandinfrontoftheRadleyPlace.Keepoutoftheway,doyouhear?Seewhichwaythewind'sblowing?"

"Oh," said Jem. "Atticus, reckon we oughta start moving thefurnitureout?"

"Not yet, son.Doas I tell you.Runnow. Take care ofScout,youhear?Don'tletheroutofyoursight."

With a push, Atticus started us toward the Radley front gate.Westoodwatching the street fillwithmenandcarswhile fire

silentlydevouredMissMaudie'shouse. "Whydon't theyhurry,whydon'ttheyhurry..."mutteredJem.

We sawwhy. The old fire truck, killed by the cold,was beingpushedfromtownbyacrowdofmen.Whenthemenattacheditshosetoahydrant,thehoseburstandwatershotup,tinklingdownonthepavement.

"Oh-hLord,Jem..."

Jem put his arm aroundme. "Hush, Scout," he said. "It ain'ttimetoworryyet.I'llletyouknowwhen."

ThemenofMaycomb,inalldegreesofdressandundress,tookfurniturefromMissMaudie'shousetoayardacrossthestreet.IsawAtticuscarryingMissMaudie'sheavyoakrockingchair,andthoughtitsensibleofhimtosavewhatshevaluedmost.

Sometimesweheardshouts.ThenMr.Avery'sfaceappearedinanupstairswindow.Hepushedamattressoutthewindowintothestreetandthrewdownfurnitureuntilmenshouted,"Comedown from there,Dick! The stairs are going!Get outta there,Mr.Avery!"

Mr.Averybeganclimbingthroughthewindow.

"Scout,he'sstuck..."breathedJem."OhGod..."

Mr. Avery was wedged tightly. I buriedmy head under Jem'sarm and didn't look again until Jem cried, "He's got loose,Scout!He'sallright!"

IlookeduptoseeMr.Averycrosstheupstairsporch.Heswunghislegsovertherailingandwasslidingdownapillarwhenheslipped.Hefell,yelled,andhitMissMaudie'sshrubbery.

SuddenlyInoticedthatthemenwerebackingawayfromMissMaudie'shouse,movingdownthestreettowardus.Theywereno longercarrying furniture.The firewaswell into thesecond

floor and had eaten itsway to the roof:window frameswereblackagainstavividorangecenter.

"Jem,itlookslikeapumpkin-"

"Scout,look!"

Smokewas rolling off our house andMiss Rachel's house likefogoffariverbank,andmenwerepullinghosestowardthem.Behindus,thefiretruckfromAbbottsvillescreamedaroundthecurveandstoppedinfrontofourhouse.

"Thatbook..."Isaid.

"What?"saidJem.

"ThatTomSwiftbook,itain'tmine,it'sDill's..."

"Don't worry, Scout, it ain't time toworry yet," said Jem. Hepointed."Lookayonder."

Inagroupofneighbors,Atticuswasstandingwithhishandsinhis overcoat pockets.Hemight havebeenwatching a footballgame.MissMaudiewasbesidehim.

"Seethere,he'snotworriedyet,"saidJem.

"Whyain'theontopofoneofthehouses?"

"He'stooold,he'dbreakhisneck."

"Youthinkweoughtamakehimgetourstuffout?"

"Let'sdon'tpesterhim,he'llknowwhenit'stime,"saidJem.

TheAbbottsvillefiretruckbeganpumpingwateronourhouse;a man on the roof pointed to places that needed it most. Iwatched our AbsoluteMorphodite go black and crumble;MissMaudie'ssunhatsettledontopoftheheap.Icouldnotseeher

hedge-clippers. In the heat between our house,Miss Rachel'sand Miss Maudie's, the men had long ago shed coats andbathrobes.Theyworkedinpajamatopsandnightshirtsstuffedintotheirpants,butIbecameawarethatIwasslowlyfreezingwhereIstood.Jemtriedtokeepmewarm,buthisarmwasnotenough. I pulled free of it and clutched my shoulders. Bydancingalittle,Icouldfeelmyfeet.

Another fire truck appeared and stopped in front of MissStephanieCrawford's.Therewasnohydrant foranotherhose,andthementriedtosoakherhousewithhandextinguishers.

Miss Maudie's tin roof quelled the flames. Roaring, the housecollapsed; fire gushed everywhere, followed by a flurry ofblankets frommenontopof theadjacenthouses,beatingoutsparksandburningchunksofwood.

Itwasdawnbefore themenbeganto leave, firstonebyone,then in groups. They pushed the Maycomb fire truck back totown, theAbbottsville truckdeparted, the thirdone remained.We found out next day it had come from Clark's Ferry, sixtymilesaway.

JemandIslidacrossthestreet.MissMaudiewasstaringatthesmokingblackhole inheryard,andAtticusshookhisheadtotellusshedidnotwanttotalk.He ledushome,holdingontoourshoulderstocrosstheicystreet.HesaidMissMaudiewouldstaywithMissStephanieforthetimebeing.

"Anybody want some hot chocolate?" he asked. I shudderedwhenAtticusstartedafireinthekitchenstove.

AswedrankourcocoaInoticedAtticuslookingatme,firstwithcuriosity,thenwithsternness."IthoughtItoldyouandJemtostayput,"hesaid.

"Why,wedid.Westayed-"

"Thenwhoseblanketisthat?"

"Blanket?"

"Yesma'am,blanket.Itisn'tours."

I looked down and found myself clutching a brown woolenblanketIwaswearingaroundmyshoulders,squaw-fashion.

"Atticus,Idon'tknow,sir...I-"

I turned to Jem for an answer, but Jem was even morebewilderedthanI.Hesaidhedidn'tknowhowitgotthere,wedidexactlyasAtticushadtoldus,westooddownbytheRadleygate away from everybody, we didn't move an inch- Jemstopped.

"Mr.Nathanwasatthefire,"hebabbled,"Isawhim,Isawhim,hewastuggin'thatmattress-Atticus,Iswear..."

"That'sall right,son."Atticusgrinnedslowly. "Looks likeallofMaycombwasouttonight, inonewayoranother.Jem,there'ssomewrappingpaperinthepantry,Ithink.Gogetitandwe'll-"

"Atticus,nosir!"

Jemseemed tohave losthismind.Hebeganpouringoutoursecretsrightandleft intotaldisregardformysafety ifnotforhisown,omittingnothing,knot-hole,pantsandall.

"...Mr.Nathanputcementinthattree,Atticus,an'hedidittostop us findin' things- he's crazy, I reckon, like they say, butAtticus, Iswear toGodheain'teverharmedus,heain'teverhurtus,hecouldacutmythroatfromeartoearthatnightbuthe tried to mend my pants instead... he ain't ever hurt us,Atticus-"

Atticus said, "Whoa, son," so gently that I was greatlyheartened.ItwasobviousthathehadnotfollowedawordJem

said,forallAtticussaidwas,"You'reright.We'dbetterkeepthisand the blanket to ourselves. Someday, maybe, Scout canthankhimforcoveringherup."

"Thankwho?"Iasked.

"Boo Radley. You were so busy looking at the fire you didn'tknowitwhenheputtheblanketaroundyou."

Mystomach turned towaterand Inearly threwupwhen Jemheldouttheblanketandcrepttowardme."Hesneakedoutofthehouse-turn'round-sneakedup,an'wentlikethis!"

Atticussaiddryly, "Donot let this inspireyou to furtherglory,Jeremy."

Jemscowled,"Iain'tgonnadoanythingtohim,"butIwatchedthesparkoffreshadventureleavehiseyes."Justthink,Scout,"hesaid,"ifyou'djustturnedaround,you'daseenhim."

Calpurniawokeusatnoon.Atticushadsaidweneednotgotoschool that day, we'd learn nothing after no sleep. Calpurniasaidforustotryandcleanupthefrontyard.

MissMaudie'ssunhatwassuspendedinathinlayerofice,likeafly inamber,andwehad todigunder thedirt forherhedge-clippers.We foundher in her back yard, gazing at her frozencharredazaleas.

"We're bringing back your things, Miss Maudie," said Jem."We'reawfulsorry."

Miss Maudie looked around, and the shadow of her old grincrossedher face. "Alwayswantedasmallerhouse, JemFinch.Gives me more yard. Just think, I'll have more room for myazaleasnow!"

"Youain'tgrievin',MissMaudie?"Iasked,surprised.Atticussaidherhousewasnearlyallshehad.

"Grieving, child? Why, I hated that old cow barn. Thought ofsettin'firetoitahundredtimesmyself,exceptthey'dlockmeup."

"But-"

"Don'tyouworryaboutme,JeanLouiseFinch.Therearewaysofdoingthingsyoudon'tknowabout.Why,I'llbuildmealittlehouseandtakemeacoupleofroomersand-gracious,I'llhavethefinestyardinAlabama.ThoseBellingraths'lllookplainpunywhenIgetstarted!"

JemandIlookedateachother."How'ditcatch,MissMaudie?"heasked.

"I don't know, Jem.Probably the flue in the kitchen. I kept afireintherelastnightformypottedplants.Hearyouhadsomeunexpectedcompanylastnight,MissJeanLouise."

"How'dyouknow?"

"Atticustoldmeonhiswaytotownthismorning.Tellyouthetruth,I'dliketo'vebeenwithyou.AndI'd'vehadsenseenoughtoturnaround,too."

Miss Maudie puzzled me. With most of her possessions goneand her beloved yard a shambles, she still took a lively andcordialinterestinJem'sandmyaffairs.

She must have seen my perplexity. She said, "Only thing Iworried about last nightwas all the danger and commotion itcaused. This whole neighborhood could have gone up. Mr.Avery'llbeinbedforaweek-he'srightstoveup.He'stoooldtodo things like that and I told him so. Soon as I can get myhands clean and when Stephanie Crawford's not looking, I'llmakehimaLanecake.ThatStephanie'sbeenaftermyrecipeforthirtyyears,andifshethinksI'llgiveittoherjustbecauseI'mstayingwithhershe'sgotanotherthinkcoming."

I reflected that ifMissMaudiebrokedownandgave it toher,MissStephaniecouldn'tfollowitanyway.MissMaudiehadoncelet me see it: among other things, the recipe called for onelargecupofsugar.

Itwasastill day.Theairwassocoldandclearweheard thecourthouse clock clank, rattle and strain before it struck thehour.MissMaudie'snosewasacolorIhadneverseenbefore,andIinquiredaboutit.

"I've been out here since six o'clock," she said. "Should befrozenbynow."Sheheldupherhands.Anetworkoftinylinescrisscrossedherpalms,brownwithdirtanddriedblood.

"You've ruined 'em," said Jem. "Why don't you get a coloredman?" There was no note of sacrifice in his voice when headded,"OrScout'n'me,wecanhelpyou."

MissMaudiesaid,"Thankyousir,butyou'vegota jobofyourownoverthere."Shepointedtoouryard.

"YoumeantheMorphodite?"Iasked."Shoot,wecanrakehimupinajiffy."

Miss Maudie stared down at me, her lips moving silently.Suddenly sheputherhands toherheadandwhooped.Whenwelefther,shewasstillchuckling.

Jemsaidhedidn'tknowwhatwasthematterwithher-thatwasjustMissMaudie.

9

"Youcanjusttakethatback,boy!"

Thisorder,givenbymetoCecilJacobs,wasthebeginningofaratherthintimeforJemandme.MyfistswereclenchedandIwasreadytoletfly.Atticushadpromisedmehewouldwearmeoutifheeverheardofmefightinganymore;Iwasfartoooldandtoobigforsuchchildishthings,andthesoonerIlearnedtoholdin,thebetteroffeverybodywouldbe.Isoonforgot.

Cecil Jacobs made me forget. He had announced in theschoolyard the day before that Scout Finch's daddy defendedniggers.Ideniedit,buttoldJem.

"What'dhemeansayin'that?"Iasked.

"Nothing,"Jemsaid."AskAtticus,he'lltellyou."

"Doyoudefendniggers,Atticus?"Iaskedhimthatevening.

"OfcourseIdo.Don'tsaynigger,Scout.That'scommon."

"'swhateverybodyatschoolsays."

"Fromnowonit'llbeeverybodylessone-"

"Wellifyoudon'twantmetogrowuptalkin'thatway,whydoyousendmetoschool?"

Myfatherlookedatmemildly,amusementinhiseyes.Despiteourcompromise,mycampaigntoavoidschoolhadcontinuedinone form or another since my first day's dose of it: thebeginning of last September had brought on sinking spells,dizziness,andmildgastriccomplaints.Iwentsofarastopaya

nickelfortheprivilegeofrubbingmyheadagainsttheheadofMissRachel'scook'sson,whowasafflictedwitha tremendousringworm.Itdidn'ttake.

But I was worrying another bone. "Do all lawyers defend n-Negroes,Atticus?"

"Ofcoursetheydo,Scout."

"Then why did Cecil say you defended niggers? He made itsoundlikeyouwererunnin'astill."

Atticussighed."I'msimplydefendingaNegro-hisname'sTomRobinson. He lives in that little settlement beyond the towndump.He'samemberofCalpurnia'schurch,andCalknowshisfamily well. She says they're clean-living folks. Scout, youaren't old enough to understand some things yet, but there'sbeensomehightalkaroundtowntotheeffectthatIshouldn'tdomuchaboutdefendingthisman.It'sapeculiarcase-itwon'tcome to trial until summer session. John Taylor was kindenoughtogiveusapostponement..."

"Ifyoushouldn'tbedefendin'him,thenwhyareyoudoin'it?"

"Foranumberofreasons,"saidAtticus."Themainone is, if Ididn'tIcouldn'tholdupmyheadintown,Icouldn'trepresentthiscountyinthelegislature,Icouldn'teventellyouorJemnottodosomethingagain."

"Youmeanifyoudidn'tdefendthatman,Jemandmewouldn'thavetomindyouanymore?"

"That'saboutright."

"Why?"

"Because I could never ask you to mind me again. Scout,simplybythenatureofthework,everylawyergetsatleastonecaseinhislifetimethataffectshimpersonally.Thisone'smine,

Iguess.Youmighthearsomeuglytalkabout itatschool,butdoone thing forme if youwill: you just hold your headhighand keep those fists down. No matter what anybody says toyou,don'tyoulet'emgetyourgoat.Tryfightingwithyourheadforachange...it'sagoodone,evenifitdoesresistlearning."

"Atticus,arewegoingtowinit?"

"No,honey."

"Thenwhy-"

"Simply because we were licked a hundred years before westartedisnoreasonforusnottotrytowin,"Atticussaid.

"YousoundlikeCousinIkeFinch,"Isaid.CousinIkeFinchwasMaycombCounty'ssolesurvivingConfederateveteran.HeworeaGeneralHoodtypebeardofwhichhewasinordinatelyvain.AtleastonceayearAtticus,JemandIcalledonhim,andIwouldhave to kiss him. It was horrible. Jem and I would listenrespectfullytoAtticusandCousinIkerehashthewar."Tellyou,Atticus,"Cousin Ikewouldsay, "theMissouriCompromisewaswhatlickedus,butifIhadtogothroughitaginI'dwalkeverystepofthewaytherean'everystepbackjist likeIdidbeforean' furthermorewe'dwhip 'emthistime...now in1864,whenStonewall Jacksoncamearoundby- Ibegyourpardon,youngfolks. Ol' Blue Light was in heaven then, God rest his saintlybrow...."

"Come here, Scout," said Atticus. I crawled into his lap andtuckedmyheadunderhischin.Heputhisarmsaroundmeandrockedmegently."It'sdifferentthistime,"hesaid."Thistimewearen't fighting theYankees,we're fighting our friends.Butrememberthis,nomatterhowbitterthingsget,they'restillourfriendsandthisisstillourhome."

With this inmind, I facedCecil Jacobs in the schoolyard nextday:"Yougonnatakethatback,boy?"

"Yougottamakemefirst!"heyelled."Myfolkssaidyourdaddywas a disgrace an' that nigger oughta hang from the water-tank!"

Idrewabeadonhim,rememberedwhatAtticushadsaid,thendropped my fists and walked away, "Scout's a cow- ward!"ringing in my ears. It was the first time I ever walked awayfromafight.

Somehow,ifIfoughtCecilIwouldletAtticusdown.AtticussorarelyaskedJemandmetodosomethingforhim,Icouldtakebeingcalledacowardforhim.Ifeltextremelynobleforhavingremembered, and remained noble for three weeks. ThenChristmascameanddisasterstruck.

JemandIviewedChristmaswithmixedfeelings.ThegoodsidewasthetreeandUncleJackFinch.EveryChristmasEvedaywemet Uncle Jack at Maycomb Junction, and he would spend aweekwithus.

A flip of the coin revealed the uncompromising lineaments ofAuntAlexandraandFrancis.

I suppose I should include Uncle Jimmy, Aunt Alexandra'shusband,butasheneverspokeawordtomeinmylifeexcepttosay,"Getoffthefence,"once,Ineversawanyreasontotakenoticeofhim.NeitherdidAuntAlexandra.Longago,inaburstof friendliness,AuntyandUncleJimmyproducedasonnamedHenry, who left home as soon as was humanly possible,married, and produced Francis. Henry and his wife depositedFrancis at his grandparents' every Christmas, then pursuedtheirownpleasures.

No amount of sighing could induce Atticus to let us spendChristmas day at home. We went to Finch's Landing everyChristmasinmymemory.ThefactthatAuntywasagoodcookwas some compensation for being forced to spend a religious

holidaywithFrancisHancock.HewasayearolderthanI,andIavoidedhimonprinciple:heenjoyedeverythingIdisapprovedof,anddislikedmyingenuousdiversions.

Aunt Alexandra was Atticus's sister, but when Jem told meabout changelings and siblings, I decided that she had beenswappedatbirth,thatmygrandparentshadperhapsreceivedaCrawford insteadofaFinch.HadIeverharbored themysticalnotions about mountains that seem to obsess lawyers andjudges, Aunt Alexandra would have been analogous to MountEverest:throughoutmyearlylife,shewascoldandthere.

When Uncle Jack jumped down from the train Christmas Eveday, we had to wait for the porter to hand him two longpackages.JemandIalwaysthought it funnywhenUncleJackpeckedAtticuson thecheek; theywere theonly twomenweeversawkisseachother.UncleJackshookhandswithJemandswungmehigh, but not highenough:Uncle Jackwasaheadshorter than Atticus; the baby of the family, he was youngerthanAuntAlexandra.HeandAuntylookedalike,butUncleJackmadebetteruseofhis face:wewereneverwaryofhissharpnoseandchin.

Hewasoneofthefewmenofsciencewhoneverterrifiedme,probablybecauseheneverbehavedlikeadoctor.Wheneverheperformed a minor service for Jem and me, as removing asplinterfromafoot,hewouldtellusexactlywhathewasgoingto do, give us an estimation of howmuch it would hurt, andexplain the use of any tongs he employed. One Christmas Ilurked in corners nursing a twisted splinter in my foot,permitting no one to comenearme.WhenUncle Jack caughtme,hekeptmelaughingaboutapreacherwhohatedgoingtochurch so much that every day he stood at his gate in hisdressing-gown, smoking a hookah and delivering five-minutesermons to any passers-by who desired spiritual comfort. IinterruptedtomakeUncleJackletmeknowwhenhewouldpullitout,butheheldupabloodysplinterinapairoftweezersandsaid he yanked it while I was laughing, that was what was

knownasrelativity.

"What's in thosepackages?" Iaskedhim,pointing to the longthinparcelstheporterhadgivenhim.

"Noneofyourbusiness,"hesaid.

Jemsaid,"How'sRoseAylmer?"

RoseAylmerwasUncle Jack's cat.Shewasabeautiful yellowfemale Uncle Jack said was one of the few women he couldstandpermanently.Hereachedintohiscoatpocketandbroughtoutsomesnapshots.Weadmiredthem.

"She'sgettin'fat,"Isaid.

"I should think so. She eats all the leftover fingers and earsfromthehospital."

"Aw,that'sadamnstory,"Isaid.

"Ibegyourpardon?"

Atticussaid,"Don'tpayanyattentiontoher,Jack.She'stryingyouout.Calsaysshe'sbeencussingfluentlyforaweek,now."

Uncle Jack raised his eyebrows and said nothing. I wasproceeding on the dim theory, aside from the innateattractiveness of such words, that if Atticus discovered I hadpickedthemupatschoolhewouldn'tmakemego.

ButatsupperthateveningwhenIaskedhimtopassthedamnham, please, Uncle Jack pointed at me. "Seeme afterwards,younglady,"hesaid.

Whensupperwasover,UncleJackwenttothe livingroomandsatdown.Heslappedhisthighsformetocomesitonhislap.Ilikedtosmellhim:hewaslikeabottleofalcoholandsomethingpleasantlysweet.Hepushedbackmybangsandlookedatme.

"You're more like Atticus than your mother," he said. "You'realsogrowingoutofyourpantsalittle."

"Ireckontheyfitallright."

"Youlikewordslikedamnandhellnow,don'tyou?"

IsaidIreckonedso.

"Well I don't," said Uncle Jack, "not unless there's extremeprovocationconnectedwith'em.I'llbehereaweek,andIdon'twant tohearanywords like thatwhile I'mhere.Scout, you'llgetintroubleifyougoaroundsayingthingslikethat.Youwanttogrowuptobealady,don'tyou?"

Isaidnotparticularly.

"Ofcourseyoudo.Nowlet'sgettothetree."

Wedecoratedthetreeuntilbedtime,andthatnightIdreamedof the two longpackages for Jemandme.Nextmorning JemandIdivedforthem:theywerefromAtticus,whohadwrittenUncle Jack to get them for us, and they were what we hadaskedfor.

"Don'tpointtheminthehouse,"saidAtticus,whenJemaimedatapictureonthewall.

"You'llhavetoteach'emtoshoot,"saidUncleJack.

"That's your job," said Atticus. "I merely bowed to theinevitable."

IttookAtticus'scourtroomvoicetodragusawayfromthetree.Hedeclined to let us take our air rifles to the Landing (I hadalreadybeguntothinkofshootingFrancis)andsaidifwemadeonefalsemovehe'dtakethemawayfromusforgood.

Finch'sLandingconsistedof threehundredandsixty-six steps

downahighbluffandending ina jetty.Fartherdownstream,beyond the bluff,were traces of an old cotton landing,whereFinchNegroeshad loadedbalesandproduce,unloadedblocksofice,flourandsugar,farmequipment,andfeminineapparel.Atwo-rut road ran from the riversideandvanishedamongdarktrees. At the end of the road was a two-storied white housewithporchescirclingitupstairsanddownstairs.Inhisoldage,ourancestorSimonFinchhadbuiltittopleasehisnaggingwife;butwith theporchesall resemblance toordinaryhousesof itseraended.TheinternalarrangementsoftheFinchhousewereindicativeofSimon'sguilelessnessand theabsolute trustwithwhichheregardedhisoffspring.

There were six bedrooms upstairs, four for the eight femalechildren, one for Welcome Finch, the sole son, and one forvisiting relatives. Simple enough; but the daughters' roomscould be reached only by one staircase,Welcome's room andtheguestroomonlybyanother.TheDaughters'Staircasewasinthe ground-floor bedroom of their parents, so Simon alwaysknewthehoursofhisdaughters'nocturnalcomingsandgoings.

Therewasakitchenseparatefromtherestofthehouse,tackedontoitbyawoodencatwalk;inthebackyardwasarustybellonapole,usedtosummonfieldhandsorasadistresssignal;awidow's walk was on the roof, but no widows walked there-from it, Simon oversawhis overseer,watched the river-boats,andgazedintothelivesofsurroundinglandholders.

TherewentwiththehousetheusuallegendabouttheYankees:one Finch female, recently engaged, donned her completetrousseau to save it from raiders in the neighborhood; shebecamestuck in thedoor to theDaughters'Staircasebutwasdousedwithwaterandfinallypushedthrough.WhenwearrivedattheLanding,AuntAlexandrakissedUncleJack,FranciskissedUncleJack,UncleJimmyshookhandssilentlywithUncleJack,JemandIgaveourpresentstoFrancis,whogaveusapresent.Jem felt his age and gravitated to the adults, leaving me toentertainourcousin.Franciswaseightandslickedbackhishair.

"What'dyougetforChristmas?"Iaskedpolitely.

"JustwhatIaskedfor,"hesaid.Francishadrequestedapairofknee-pants, a red leather booksack, five shirts and an untiedbowtie.

"That'snice,"I lied."Jemandmegotairrifles,andJemgotachemistryset-"

"Atoyone,Ireckon."

"No, a real one.He's gonnamakeme some invisible ink, andI'mgonnawritetoDillinit."

Francisaskedwhatwastheuseofthat.

"Well,can'tyoujustseehisfacewhenhegetsaletterfrommewithnothinginit?It'lldrivehimnuts."

Talking to Francis gaveme the sensation of settling slowly tothebottomof theocean.Hewas themostboringchild Ievermet.AshelivedinMobile,hecouldnotinformonmetoschoolauthorities,buthemanagedtotelleverythingheknewtoAuntAlexandra, who in turn unburdened herself to Atticus, whoeitherforgotitorgavemehell,whicheverstruckhisfancy.ButtheonlytimeIeverheardAtticusspeaksharplytoanyonewaswhen I once heard him say, "Sister, I do the best I canwiththem!" It had something to do with my going around inoveralls.

Aunt Alexandra was fanatical on the subject of my attire. IcouldnotpossiblyhopetobealadyifIworebreeches;whenIsaidIcoulddonothinginadress,shesaidIwasn'tsupposedtobedoingthingsthatrequiredpants.AuntAlexandra'svisionofmy deportment involved playing with small stoves, tea sets,andwearingtheAdd-A-PearlnecklaceshegavemewhenIwasborn;furthermore,Ishouldbearayofsunshineinmyfather'slonely life. I suggested thatonecouldbea rayofsunshine in

pantsjustaswell,butAuntysaidthatonehadtobehavelikeasunbeam, that I was born good but had grown progressivelyworse every year. She hurt my feelings and set my teethpermanentlyonedge,butwhenIaskedAtticusaboutit,hesaidtherewerealreadyenoughsunbeamsinthefamilyandtogoonaboutmybusiness,hedidn'tmindmemuchthewayIwas.

AtChristmasdinner,Isatatthelittletable inthediningroom;JemandFrancissatwith theadultsat thedining table.Auntyhad continued to isolate me long after Jem and Francisgraduatedtothebigtable.IoftenwonderedwhatshethoughtI'd do, get up and throw something? I sometimes thought ofaskingherifshewouldletmesitatthebigtablewiththerestofthemjustonce,IwouldprovetoherhowcivilizedIcouldbe;afterall,Iateathomeeverydaywithnomajormishaps.WhenIbeggedAtticustousehisinfluence,hesaidhehadnone-wewereguests,andwesatwhereshetoldustosit.HealsosaidAuntAlexandradidn't understandgirlsmuch, she'dneverhadone.

Buthercookingmadeup foreverything: threekindsofmeat,summervegetablesfromherpantryshelves;peachpickles,twokinds of cake and ambrosia constituted a modest Christmasdinner.Afterwards,theadultsmadeforthe livingroomandsataroundinadazedcondition.Jemlayonthefloor,andIwenttothe back yard. "Put on your coat," said Atticus dreamily, so Ididn'thearhim.

Francis sat besideme on the back steps. "That was the bestyet,"Isaid.

"Grandma'sawonderfulcook,"saidFrancis."She'sgonnateachmehow."

"Boysdon'tcook."IgiggledatthethoughtofJeminanapron.

"Grandmasaysallmenshould learntocook,thatmenoughtabecarefulwiththeirwivesandwaiton'emwhentheydon'tfeel

good,"saidmycousin.

"I don't want Dill waitin' on me," I said. "I'd rather wait onhim."

"Dill?"

"Yeah. Don't say anything about it yet, but we're gonna getmarried as soon as we're big enough. He asked me lastsummer."

Francishooted.

"What's the matter with him?" I asked. "Ain't anything thematterwithhim."

"YoumeanthatlittleruntGrandmasaysstayswithMissRacheleverysummer?"

"That'sexactlywhoImean."

"Iknowallabouthim,"saidFrancis.

"Whatabouthim?"

"Grandmasayshehasn'tgotahome-"

"Hastoo,helivesinMeridian."

"-hejustgetspassedaroundfromrelativetorelative,andMissRachelkeepshimeverysummer."

"Francis,that'snotso!"

Francis grinned atme. "You'remighty dumb sometimes, JeanLouise.Guessyoudon'tknowanybetter,though."

"Whatdoyoumean?"

"IfUncleAtticusletsyourunaroundwithstraydogs,that'shis

ownbusiness,likeGrandmasays,soitain'tyourfault.Iguessitain'tyourfault ifUncleAtticus isanigger-loverbesides,butI'm here to tell you it certainly does mortify the rest of thefamily-"

"Francis,whatthehelldoyoumean?"

"JustwhatIsaid.Grandmasaysit'sbadenoughheletsyouallrunwild,butnowhe'sturnedoutanigger-loverwe'llneverbeable to walk the streets of Maycomb agin. He's ruinin' thefamily,that'swhathe'sdoin'."

Francisroseandsprinteddownthecatwalktotheoldkitchen.Atasafedistancehecalled,"He'snothin'butanigger-lover!"

"He isnot!" I roared. "Idon'tknowwhatyou're talkin'about,butyoubettercutitoutthisredhotminute!"

Ileapedoffthestepsandrandownthecatwalk.ItwaseasytocollarFrancis.Isaidtakeitbackquick.

Francis jerked loose and sped into the old kitchen. "Nigger-lover!"heyelled.

When stalking one's prey, it is best to take one's time. Saynothing, and as sure as eggs he will become curious andemerge. Francis appeared at the kitchen door. "You stillmad,JeanLouise?"heaskedtentatively.

"Nothingtospeakof,"Isaid.

Franciscameoutonthecatwalk.

"Yougonnatakeitback,Fra-ancis?"ButIwastooquickonthedraw. Francis shot back into the kitchen, so I retired to thesteps. I could wait patiently. I had sat there perhaps fiveminutes when I heard Aunt Alexandra speak: "Where'sFrancis?"

"He'soutyonderinthekitchen."

"Heknowshe'snotsupposedtoplayinthere."

Franciscametothedoorandyelled,"Grandma,she'sgotmeinhereandshewon'tletmeout!"

"Whatisallthis,JeanLouise?"

I looked up at Aunt Alexandra. "I haven't got him in there,Aunty,Iain'tholdin'him."

"Yessheis,"shoutedFrancis,"shewon'tletmeout!"

"Haveyouallbeenfussing?"

"JeanLouisegotmadatme,Grandma,"calledFrancis.

"Francis,comeoutofthere!JeanLouise,ifIhearanotherwordoutofyou I'll tell your father.Did Ihearyousayhell awhileago?"

"Nome."

"IthoughtIdid.I'dbetternothearitagain."

AuntAlexandrawasaback-porchlistener.ThemomentshewasoutofsightFranciscameoutheadupandgrinning."Don'tyoufoolwithme,"hesaid.

Hejumpedintotheyardandkepthisdistance,kickingtuftsofgrass, turning around occasionally to smile at me. Jemappeared on the porch, looked at us, andwent away. Francisclimbed the mimosa tree, came down, put his hands in hispockets and strolled around the yard. "Hah!" he said. I askedhim who he thought he was, Uncle Jack? Francis said hereckoned I got told, for me to just sit there and leave himalone.

"Iain'tbotherin'you,"Isaid.

Francis looked at me carefully, concluded that I had beensufficientlysubdued,andcroonedsoftly,"Nigger-lover..."

Thistime,Isplitmyknuckletotheboneonhisfrontteeth.Myleft impaired,Isailed inwithmyright,butnotfor long.UncleJackpinnedmyarmstomysidesandsaid,"Standstill!"

Aunt Alexandra ministered to Francis, wiping his tears awaywith her handkerchief, rubbing his hair, patting his cheek.Atticus, Jem, and Uncle Jimmy had come to the back porchwhenFrancisstartedyelling.

"Whostartedthis?"saidUncleJack.

Francis and I pointed at each other. "Grandma," he bawled,"shecalledmeawhore-ladyandjumpedonme!"

"Isthattrue,Scout?"saidUncleJack.

"Ireckonso."

When Uncle Jack looked down at me, his features were likeAuntAlexandra's. "Youknow I toldyouyou'dget in trouble ifyouusedwordslikethat?Itoldyou,didn'tI?"

"Yessir,but-"

"Well,you'reintroublenow.Staythere."

I was debating whether to stand there or run, and tarried inindecisionamoment too long: I turned to fleebutUncle Jackwas quicker. I found myself suddenly looking at a tiny antstrugglingwithabreadcrumbinthegrass.

"I'llneverspeaktoyouagainas longasI live!Ihateyouan'despise you an' hope you die tomorrow!" A statement thatseemedtoencourageUncleJack,morethananything.Iranto

Atticusforcomfort,buthesaidIhaditcominganditwashightime we went home. I climbed into the back seat of the carwithout sayinggood-bye toanyone,andathome I ran tomyroomandslammedthedoor.Jemtriedtosaysomethingnice,butIwouldn'tlethim.

When I surveyed the damage therewere only seven or eightredmarks,andIwas reflectinguponrelativitywhensomeoneknockedonthedoor.Iaskedwhoitwas;UncleJackanswered.

"Goaway!"

UncleJacksaidifItalkedlikethathe'dlickmeagain,soIwasquiet.Whenhe entered the room I retreated to a corner andturned my back on him. "Scout," he said, "do you still hateme?"

"Goon,pleasesir."

"Why, I didn't think you'd hold it against me," he said. "I'mdisappointedinyou-youhadthatcomingandyouknowit."

"Didn'teither."

"Honey,youcan'tgoaroundcallingpeople-"

"Youain'tfair,"Isaid,"youain'tfair."

UncleJack'seyebrowswentup."Notfair?Hownot?"

"You'rerealnice,UncleJack,an'IreckonIloveyouevenafterwhatyoudid,butyoudon'tunderstandchildrenmuch."

Uncle Jackputhishandsonhishipsand lookeddownatme."AndwhydoInotunderstandchildren,MissJeanLouise?Suchconduct as yours required little understanding. It wasobstreperous,disorderlyandabusive-"

"Yougonnagivemeachancetotellyou?Idon'tmeantosass

you,I'mjusttryin'totellyou."

UncleJacksatdownonthebed.Hiseyebrowscametogether,andhepeeredupatmefromunderthem."Proceed,"hesaid.

Itookadeepbreath."Well,inthefirstplaceyouneverstoppedtogimmeachance to tell youmysideof it-you just lit rightintome.WhenJeman'IfussAtticusdoesn'teverjustlistentoJem'ssideofit,hehearsminetoo,an'inthesecondplaceyoutold me never to use words like that except in ex-extremeprovocation, and Francis provocated me enough to knock hisblockoff-"

Uncle Jack scratched his head. "What was your side of it,Scout?"

"Francis calledAtticus somethin', an' Iwasn't about to take itoffhim."

"WhatdidFranciscallhim?"

"A nigger-lover. I ain't very sure what itmeans, but the wayFrancissaidit-tellyouonethingrightnow,UncleJack,I'llbe-Iswear before God if I'll sit there and let him say somethin'aboutAtticus."

"HecalledAtticusthat?"

"Yessir,hedid,an'alotmore.SaidAtticus'dbetheruinationofthefamilyan'heletJemanmerunwild...."

From the look on Uncle Jack's face, I thought I was in for itagain.Whenhesaid,"We'llseeaboutthis,"IknewFranciswasinforit."I'veagoodmindtogoouttheretonight."

"Pleasesir,justletitgo.Please."

"I've no intention of letting it go," he said. "Alexandra shouldknow about this. The idea of- wait'll I getmy hands on that

boy...."

"Uncle Jack,pleasepromisemesomethin', please sir. Promiseyouwon'ttellAtticusaboutthis.He-heaskedmeonetimenottoletanythingIheardabouthimmakememad,an'I'drutherhimthinkwewerefightin'aboutsomethin'elseinstead.Pleasepromise..."

"ButIdon'tlikeFrancisgettingawaywithsomethinglikethat-"

"He didn't. You reckon you could tie up my hand? It's stillbleedin'some."

"Of course I will, baby. I know of no hand I would be moredelightedtotieup.Willyoucomethisway?"

Uncle Jack gallantly bowed me to the bathroom. While hecleanedandbandagedmyknuckles,heentertainedmewithatale about a funny nearsighted old gentleman who had a catnamedHodge,andwhocountedall thecracks in thesidewalkwhenhewenttotown."Therenow,"hesaid."You'llhaveaveryunladylikescaronyourwedding-ringfinger."

"Thankyousir.UncleJack?"

"Ma'am?"

"What'sawhore-lady?"

Uncle Jack plunged into another long tale about an old PrimeMinisterwhosatintheHouseofCommonsandblewfeathersintheairand tried tokeep them therewhenall abouthimmenwere losing their heads. I guess hewas trying to answermyquestion,buthemadenosensewhatsoever.

Later,whenIwassupposedtobeinbed,Iwentdownthehallfor a drink of water and heard Atticus and Uncle Jack in thelivingroom:

"Ishallnevermarry,Atticus."

"Why?"

"Imighthavechildren."

Atticussaid,"You'vealottolearn,Jack."

"Iknow.Yourdaughtergavememyfirstlessonsthisafternoon.She said I didn't understand childrenmuch and toldmewhy.She was quite right. Atticus, she told me how I should havetreatedher-ohdear,I'msosorryIrompedonher."

Atticuschuckled."Sheearnedit,sodon'tfeeltooremorseful."

Iwaited,ontenterhooks,forUncleJacktotellAtticusmysideofit.Buthedidn't.Hesimplymurmured,"Heruseofbathroominvective leaves nothing to the imagination. But she doesn'tknow the meaning of half she says- she asked me what awhore-ladywas..."

"Didyoutellher?"

"No,ItoldheraboutLordMelbourne."

"Jack! When a child asks you something, answer him, forgoodness'sake.Butdon'tmakeaproductionofit.Childrenarechildren,buttheycanspotanevasionquickerthanadults,andevasionsimplymuddles 'em.No,"my fathermused, "youhadthe right answer this afternoon, but the wrong reasons. Badlanguageisastageallchildrengothrough,anditdieswithtimewhen they learn they're not attracting attention with it.Hotheadednessisn't.Scout'sgottolearntokeepherheadandlearnsoon,withwhat'sinstoreforherthesenextfewmonths.She'scomingalong,though.Jem'sgettingolderandshefollowshis example a good bit now. All she needs is assistancesometimes."

"Atticus,you'veneverlaidahandonher."

"Iadmitthat.SofarI'vebeenabletogetbywiththreats.Jack,shemindsmeaswellasshecan.Doesn'tcomeuptoscratchhalfthetime,butshetries."

"That'snottheanswer,"saidUncleJack.

"No, the answer is she knows I know she tries. That's whatmakesthedifference.WhatbothersmeisthatsheandJemwillhave toabsorbsomeugly thingspretty soon. I'mnotworriedaboutJemkeepinghishead,butScout'djustassoonjumponsomeoneaslookathimifherpride'satstake...."

IwaitedforUncleJacktobreakhispromise.Hestilldidn't.

"Atticus,howbadisthisgoingtobe?Youhaven'thadtoomuchchancetodiscussit."

"Itcouldn'tbeworse,Jack.Theonlythingwe'vegotisablackman's word against the Ewells'. The evidence boils down toyou-did-I-didn't.Thejurycouldn'tpossiblybeexpectedtotakeTom Robinson's word against the Ewells'- are you acquaintedwiththeEwells?"

UncleJacksaidyes,herememberedthem.HedescribedthemtoAtticus,butAtticussaid,"You'reagenerationoff.Thepresentonesarethesame,though."

"Whatareyougoingtodo,then?"

"BeforeI'mthrough,Iintendtojarthejuryabit-Ithinkwe'llhaveareasonablechanceonappeal,though.Ireallycan'ttellat this stage, Jack. You know, I'd hoped to get through lifewithoutacaseofthiskind,butJohnTaylorpointedatmeandsaid,'You'reIt.'"

"Letthiscuppassfromyou,eh?"

"Right.ButdoyouthinkIcouldfacemychildrenotherwise?Youknowwhat'sgoingtohappenaswellasIdo,Jack,andIhope

andprayIcangetJemandScoutthroughitwithoutbitterness,andmostofall,withoutcatchingMaycomb'susualdisease.Whyreasonablepeoplegostarkravingmadwhenanythinginvolvinga Negro comes up, is something I don't pretend tounderstand... I justhope that JemandScout come tome fortheiranswersinsteadoflisteningtothetown.Ihopetheytrustmeenough....JeanLouise?"

Myscalpjumped.Istuckmyheadaroundthecorner."Sir?"

"Gotobed."

Iscurriedtomyroomandwenttobed.UncleJackwasaprinceof a fellow not to let me down. But I never figured out howAtticus knew Iwas listening, and itwasnot untilmany yearslaterthatIrealizedhewantedmetoheareverywordhesaid.

10

Atticuswasfeeble:hewasnearlyfifty.WhenJemandIaskedhimwhyhewassoold,hesaidhegotstarted late,whichwefelt reflected upon his abilities and manliness. He was mucholderthantheparentsofourschoolcontemporaries,andtherewasnothingJemorIcouldsayabouthimwhenourclassmatessaid,"Myfather-"

Jemwasfootballcrazy.Atticuswasnevertootiredtoplaykeep-away, but when Jemwanted to tackle him Atticus would say,"I'mtoooldforthat,son."

Ourfatherdidn'tdoanything.Heworkedinanoffice,not inadrugstore.Atticusdidnotdriveadump-truckforthecounty,hewasnot the sheriff, he did not farm,work in a garage, or doanythingthatcouldpossiblyarousetheadmirationofanyone.

Besides that, hewore glasses. Hewas nearly blind in his lefteye, and said left eyes were the tribal curse of the Finches.Wheneverhewantedtoseesomethingwell,heturnedhisheadandlookedfromhisrighteye.

Hedidnotdothethingsourschoolmates'fathersdid:heneverwenthunting,hedidnotplaypokerorfishordrinkorsmoke.Hesatinthelivingroomandread.

With these attributes, however, he would not remain asinconspicuous as we wished him to: that year, the schoolbuzzedwith talk about him defending TomRobinson, none ofwhichwascomplimentary.AftermyboutwithCecilJacobswhenI committedmyself toapolicyof cowardice,wordgotaroundthat Scout Finchwouldn't fight anymore, her daddywouldn'tlether.Thiswasnotentirelycorrect:Iwouldn'tfightpubliclyforAtticus,butthefamilywasprivateground.Iwouldfightanyone

fromathirdcousinupwardstoothandnail.FrancisHancock,forexample,knewthat.

When he gave us our air-rifles Atticus wouldn't teach us toshoot. Uncle Jack instructed us in the rudiments thereof; hesaidAtticuswasn't interested inguns.Atticussaid toJemoneday, "I'd rather you shot at tin cans in the back yard, but Iknowyou'll go after birds. Shoot all the bluejays youwant, ifyoucanhit'em,butrememberit'sasintokillamockingbird."

ThatwastheonlytimeIeverheardAtticussayitwasasintodosomething,andIaskedMissMaudieaboutit.

"Yourfather'sright,"shesaid."Mockingbirdsdon'tdoonethingbut make music for us to enjoy. They don't eat up people'sgardens, don't nest in corncribs, they don't do one thing butsing their hearts out for us. That's why it's a sin to kill amockingbird."

"MissMaudie,thisisanoldneighborhood,ain'tit?"

"Beenherelongerthanthetown."

"Nome,Imeanthefolksonourstreetareallold.Jemandme'sthe only children around here. Mrs. Dubose is close on to ahundredandMissRachel'soldandsoareyouandAtticus."

"Idon'tcall fiftyveryold,"saidMissMaudie tartly. "Notbeingwheeledaroundyet,amI?Neither'syourfather.ButImustsayProvidencewaskindenoughtoburndownthatoldmausoleumofmine, I'm too old to keep it up-maybe you're right, JeanLouise, this is a settled neighborhood. You've never beenaroundyoungfolksmuch,haveyou?"

"Yessum,atschool."

"Imeanyounggrown-ups.You'relucky,youknow.YouandJemhavethebenefitofyour father'sage.Ifyour fatherwasthirtyyou'dfindlifequitedifferent."

"Isurewould.Atticuscan'tdoanything...."

"You'dbesurprised,"saidMissMaudie."There'slifeinhimyet."

"Whatcanhedo?"

"Well, he canmake somebody's will so airtight can't anybodymeddlewithit."

"Shoot..."

"Well,didyouknowhe'sthebestchecker-player inthistown?Why, down at the Landing when we were coming up, AtticusFinchcouldbeateverybodyonbothsidesoftheriver."

"GoodLord,MissMaudie,Jemandmebeathimallthetime."

"It'sabouttimeyoufoundoutit'sbecauseheletsyou.DidyouknowhecanplayaJew'sHarp?"

This modest accomplishment served to make me even moreashamedofhim.

"Well..."shesaid.

"Well,what,MissMaudie?"

"Wellnothing.Nothing-itseemswithallthatyou'dbeproudofhim.Can't everybodyplaya Jew'sHarp.Nowkeepoutof theway of the carpenters. You'd better go home, I'll be in myazaleasandcan'twatchyou.Plankmighthityou."

IwenttothebackyardandfoundJempluggingawayatatincan, which seemed stupid with all the bluejays around. Ireturned to the front yard and busied myself for two hourserecting a complicated breastworks at the side of the porch,consisting of a tire, an orange crate, the laundry hamper, theporchchairs,andasmallU.S.flagJemgavemefromapopcorn

box.

WhenAtticuscamehometodinnerhefoundmecroucheddownaimingacrossthestreet."Whatareyoushootingat?"

"MissMaudie'srearend."

Atticus turned and sawmy generous target bending over herbushes.Hepushedhishattothebackofhisheadandcrossedthestreet."Maudie,"hecalled,"IthoughtI'dbetterwarnyou.You'reinconsiderableperil."

MissMaudiestraightenedupand looked towardme.Shesaid,"Atticus,youareadevilfromhell."

When Atticus returned he toldme to break camp. "Don't youeverletmecatchyoupointingthatgunatanybodyagain,"hesaid.

I wished my father was a devil from hell. I sounded outCalpurnia on the subject. "Mr. Finch? Why, he can do lots ofthings."

"Likewhat?"Iasked.

Calpurniascratchedherhead."Well,Idon'trightlyknow,"shesaid.

JemunderlineditwhenheaskedAtticusifhewasgoingoutfortheMethodistsandAtticussaidhe'dbreakhisneckifhedid,hewas just too old for that sort of thing. The Methodists weretryingtopayofftheirchurchmortgage,andhadchallengedtheBaptiststoagameoftouchfootball.Everybodyintown'sfatherwasplaying,itseemed,exceptAtticus.Jemsaidhedidn'tevenwant to go, but hewas unable to resist football in any form,and he stood gloomily on the sidelines with Atticus and mewatching Cecil Jacobs's father make touchdowns for theBaptists.

OneSaturdayJemand Idecided togoexploringwithourair-riflestoseeifwecouldfindarabbitorasquirrel.Wehadgoneabout five hundred yards beyond the Radley Place when Inoticed Jem squinting at something down the street. He hadturnedhisheadtoonesideandwaslookingoutofthecornersofhiseyes.

"Whatchalookingat?"

"Thatolddogdownyonder,"hesaid.

"That'soldTimJohnson,ain'tit?"

"Yeah."

TimJohnsonwasthepropertyofMr.HarryJohnsonwhodrovetheMobilebusandlivedonthesouthernedgeoftown.Timwasaliver-coloredbirddog,thepetofMaycomb.

"What'shedoing?"

"Idon'tknow,Scout.Webettergohome."

"AwJem,it'sFebruary."

"Idon'tcare,I'mgonnatellCal."

Weracedhomeandrantothekitchen.

"Cal,"saidJem,"canyoucomedownthesidewalkaminute?"

"Whatfor,Jem?Ican'tcomedownthesidewalkeverytimeyouwantme."

"There'ssomethin'wrongwithanolddogdownyonder."

Calpurniasighed."Ican'twrapupanydog'sfootnow.There'ssomegauzeinthebathroom,gogetitanddoityourself."

Jem shook his head. "He's sick, Cal. Something's wrong with

him."

"What'shedoin',tryingtocatchhistail?"

"No,he'sdoin'likethis."

Jemgulpedlikeagoldfish,hunchedhisshouldersandtwitchedhistorso."He'sgoin'likethat,onlynotlikehemeansto."

"Are you telling me a story, Jem Finch?" Calpurnia's voicehardened.

"NoCal,IswearI'mnot."

"Washerunnin'?"

"No,he's justmoseyin' along, so slowyou can't hardly tell it.He'scomin'thisway."

Calpurnia rinsedherhandsand followed Jem into theyard. "Idon'tseeanydog,"shesaid.

ShefollowedusbeyondtheRadleyPlaceandlookedwhereJempointed.TimJohnsonwasnotmuchmorethanaspeck in thedistance,buthewasclosertous.Hewalkederratically,asifhisrightlegswereshorterthanhisleftlegs.Heremindedmeofacarstuckinasandbed.

"He'sgonelopsided,"saidJem.

Calpurniastared,thengrabbedusbytheshouldersandranushome. She shut the wood door behind us, went to thetelephoneandshouted,"GimmeMr.Finch'soffice!"

"Mr.Finch!"sheshouted."ThisisCal.IsweartoGodthere'samaddogdownthestreetapiece-he'scomin'thisway,yessir,he's- Mr. Finch, I declare he is- old Tim Johnson, yes sir...yessir...yes-"

ShehungupandshookherheadwhenwetriedtoaskherwhatAtticushadsaid.Sherattledthetelephonehookandsaid,"MissEulaMay-nowma'am,I'mthroughtalkin' toMr.Finch,pleasedon'tconnectmenomore- listen,MissEulaMay,canyoucallMissRachelandMissStephanieCrawfordandwhoever'sgotaphone on this street and tell 'emamaddog's comin'? Pleasema'am!"

Calpurnia listened. "I know it's February,MissEulaMay,but IknowamaddogwhenIseeone.Pleasema'amhurry!"

CalpurniaaskedJem,"Radleysgotaphone?"

Jem looked in the book and said no. "They won't come outanyway,Cal."

"Idon'tcare,I'mgonnatell'em."

Sherantothefrontporch,JemandIatherheels."Youstayinthathouse!"sheyelled.

Calpurnia's message had been received by the neighborhood.Everywooddoorwithinourrangeofvisionwasclosedtight.Wesaw no trace of Tim Johnson. We watched Calpurnia runningtowardtheRadleyPlace,holdingherskirtandapronaboveherknees.Shewentuptothefrontstepsandbangedonthedoor.Shegotnoanswer, and she shouted, "Mr.Nathan,Mr.Arthur,maddog'scomin'!Maddog'scomin'!"

"She'ssupposedtogoaroundinback,"Isaid.

Jemshookhishead."Don'tmakeanydifferencenow,"hesaid.

Calpurnia poundedon thedoor in vain.Noone acknowledgedherwarning;nooneseemedtohaveheardit.

AsCalpurniasprintedtothebackporchablackFordswungintothedriveway.AtticusandMr.HeckTategotout.

Mr.HeckTatewasthesheriffofMaycombCounty.Hewasastallas Atticus, but thinner. He was long-nosed, wore boots withshinymetaleye-holes,bootpantsandalumberjacket.Hisbelthadarowofbulletsstickinginit.Hecarriedaheavyrifle.WhenheandAtticusreachedtheporch,Jemopenedthedoor.

"Stayinside,son,"saidAtticus."Whereishe,Cal?"

"Heoughtabeherebynow,"saidCalpurnia,pointingdownthestreet.

"Notrunnin',ishe?"askedMr.Tate.

"Nawsir,he'sinthetwitchin'stage,Mr.Heck."

"Shouldwegoafterhim,Heck?"askedAtticus.

"We betterwait,Mr. Finch. They usually go in a straight line,butyounevercantell.Hemightfollowthecurve-hopehedoesor he'll go straight in the Radley back yard. Let's wait aminute."

"Don'tthinkhe'llgetintheRadleyyard,"saidAtticus."Fence'llstophim.He'llprobablyfollowtheroad...."

Ithoughtmaddogsfoamedatthemouth,galloped,leapedandlungedatthroats,andIthoughttheydiditinAugust.HadTimJohnsonbehavedthus,Iwouldhavebeenlessfrightened.

Nothingismoredeadlythanadeserted,waitingstreet.Thetreeswerestill,themockingbirdsweresilent,thecarpentersatMissMaudie'shousehadvanished.IheardMr.Tatesniff,thenblowhisnose.Isawhimshifthisguntothecrookofhisarm.IsawMissStephanieCrawford'sfaceframedintheglasswindowofherfrontdoor.MissMaudieappearedandstoodbesideher.Atticusputhisfootontherungofachairandrubbedhishandslowlydownthesideofhisthigh.

"Thereheis,"hesaidsoftly.

TimJohnsoncame intosight,walkingdazedly inthe innerrimofthecurveparalleltotheRadleyhouse.

"Lookathim,"whisperedJem."Mr.Hecksaidtheywalkedinastraightline.Hecan'tevenstayintheroad."

"Helooksmoresickthananything,"Isaid.

"Letanythinggetinfrontofhimandhe'llcomestraightatit."

Mr.Tateputhishandtohisforeheadandleanedforward."He'sgotitallright,Mr.Finch."

Tim Johnsonwas advancing at a snail's pace, but hewas notplaying or sniffing at foliage: he seemed dedicated to onecourseandmotivatedbyaninvisibleforcethatwasinchinghimtowardus.Wecouldseehimshiverlikeahorsesheddingflies;hisjawopenedandshut;hewasalist,buthewasbeingpulledgraduallytowardus.

"He'slookin'foraplacetodie,"saidJem.

Mr.Tateturnedaround."He'sfarfromdead,Jem,hehasn'tgotstartedyet."

Tim Johnson reached the side street that ran in front of theRadley Place, andwhat remained of his poormindmade himpause and seem to consider which road he would take. Hemadea fewhesitant stepsandstopped in frontof theRadleygate;thenhetriedtoturnaround,butwashavingdifficulty.

Atticussaid,"He'swithinrange,Heck.Youbettergethimbeforehe goes down the side street- Lord knows who's around thecorner.Goinside,Cal."

Calpurnia opened the screen door, latched it behind her, thenunlatcheditandheldontothehook.ShetriedtoblockJemandmewithherbody,butwelookedoutfrombeneathherarms.

"Takehim,Mr.Finch."Mr.TatehandedtherifletoAtticus;JemandInearlyfainted.

"Don'twastetime,Heck,"saidAtticus."Goon."

"Mr.Finch,thisisaone-shotjob."

Atticus shook his head vehemently: "Don't just stand there,Heck!Hewon'twaitalldayforyou-"

"ForGod'ssake,Mr.Finch,lookwhereheis!Missandyou'llgostraight intotheRadleyhouse!Ican'tshootthatwellandyouknowit!"

"Ihaven'tshotaguninthirtyyears-"

Mr. Tate almost threw the rifle at Atticus. "I'd feel mightycomfortableifyoudidnow,"hesaid.

Inafog,JemandIwatchedourfathertakethegunandwalkout into the middle of the street. He walked quickly, but Ithought he moved like an underwater swimmer: time hadslowedtoanauseatingcrawl.

When Atticus raised his glasses Calpurnia murmured, "SweetJesushelphim,"andputherhandstohercheeks.

Atticuspushedhisglassestohis forehead;theyslippeddown,andhedroppedtheminthestreet.Inthesilence,Iheardthemcrack.Atticusrubbedhiseyesandchin;wesawhimblinkhard.

InfrontoftheRadleygate,TimJohnsonhadmadeupwhatwasleftofhismind.Hehadfinallyturnedhimselfaround,topursuehisoriginal courseupour street.Hemade twosteps forward,thenstoppedandraisedhishead.Wesawhisbodygorigid.

Withmovements so swift they seemedsimultaneous,Atticus'shand yanked a ball-tipped lever as he brought the gun to hisshoulder.

The rifle cracked. Tim Johnson leaped, flopped over andcrumpledonthesidewalkinabrown-and-whiteheap.Hedidn'tknowwhathithim.

Mr.TatejumpedofftheporchandrantotheRadleyPlace.Hestoppedinfrontofthedog,squatted,turnedaroundandtappedhisfingeronhisforeheadabovehislefteye."Youwerealittletotheright,Mr.Finch,"hecalled.

"Alwayswas,"answeredAtticus."IfIhadmy'druthersI'dtakeashotgun."

Hestoopedandpickeduphisglasses,groundthebrokenlensesto powder under his heel, and went to Mr. Tate and stoodlookingdownatTimJohnson.

Doorsopenedonebyone,and theneighborhoodslowly camealive.MissMaudiewalkeddownthestepswithMissStephanieCrawford.

Jemwasparalyzed.Ipinchedhimtogethimmoving,butwhenAtticussawuscominghecalled,"Staywhereyouare."

WhenMr. Tate andAtticus returned to the yard,Mr. Tatewassmiling. "I'll have Zeebo collect him," he said. "You haven'tforgotmuch,Mr.Finch.Theysayitneverleavesyou."

Atticuswassilent.

"Atticus?"saidJem.

"Yes?"

"Nothin'."

"Isawthat,One-ShotFinch!"

AtticuswheeledaroundandfacedMissMaudie.Theylookedatoneanotherwithout saying anything, andAtticus got into the

sheriff'scar. "Comehere,"hesaid toJem."Don'tyougonearthat dog, you understand? Don't go near him, he's just asdangerousdeadasalive."

"Yessir,"saidJem."Atticus-"

"What,son?"

"Nothing."

"What'sthematterwithyou,boy,can'tyoutalk?"saidMr.Tate,grinningatJem."Didn'tyouknowyourdaddy's-"

"Hush,Heck,"saidAtticus,"let'sgobacktotown."

When they drove away, Jem and I went to Miss Stephanie'sfrontsteps.Wesatwaiting forZeebo toarrive in thegarbagetruck.

Jemsat innumbconfusion,andMissStephaniesaid, "Uh,uh,uh,who'dathoughtofamaddoginFebruary?Maybehewadn'tmad,maybehewasjustcrazy.I'dhatetoseeHarryJohnson'sface when he gets in from the Mobile run and finds AtticusFinch's shot his dog. Bet he was just full of fleas fromsomewhere-"

MissMaudiesaidMissStephanie'dbesingingadifferenttuneifTimJohnsonwasstillcomingupthestreet,thatthey'dfindoutsoonenough,they'dsendhisheadtoMontgomery.

Jembecamevaguelyarticulate:"'dyouseehim,Scout?'dyouseehimjuststandin'there?...'n'allofasuddenhejustrelaxedallover,an' it looked likethatgunwasapartofhim...an'hediditsoquick,like...Ihaftaaimfortenminutes'foreIcanhitsomethin'...."

MissMaudiegrinnedwickedly."Wellnow,MissJeanLouise,"shesaid,"stillthinkyourfathercan'tdoanything?Stillashamedofhim?"

"Nome,"Isaidmeekly.

"ForgottotellyoutheotherdaythatbesidesplayingtheJew'sHarp,AtticusFinchwasthedeadestshotinMaycombCountyinhistime."

"Deadshot..."echoedJem.

"That'swhat I said, JemFinch.Guessyou'll changeyour tunenow.Theveryidea,didn'tyouknowhisnicknamewasOl'One-Shotwhenhewasaboy?Why,downat theLandingwhenhewascomingup, ifheshotfifteentimesandhitfourteendoveshe'dcomplainaboutwastingammunition."

"Heneversaidanythingaboutthat,"Jemmuttered.

"Neversaidanythingaboutit,didhe?"

"Noma'am."

"Wonderwhyhenevergoeshuntin'now,"Isaid.

"Maybe I can tell you," said Miss Maudie. "If your father'sanything, he's civilized in his heart. Marksmanship's a gift ofGod,atalent-oh,youhavetopracticetomakeitperfect,butshootin's different from playing the piano or the like. I thinkmaybe he put his gun down when he realized that God hadgivenhimanunfairadvantageovermostlivingthings.Iguesshe decided he wouldn't shoot till he had to, and he had totoday."

"Lookslikehe'dbeproudofit,"Isaid.

"People in their rightmindsnever takepride in their talents,"saidMissMaudie.

WesawZeebodriveup.He tookapitchfork from thebackofthegarbage truckandgingerly liftedTimJohnson.Hepitchedthe dog onto the truck, then poured something froma gallon

jugonandaround the spotwhereTim fell. "Don't yawl comeoverhereforawhile,"hecalled.

WhenwewenthomeItoldJemwe'dreallyhavesomethingtotalkaboutatschoolonMonday.Jemturnedonme.

"Don'tsayanythingaboutit,Scout,"hesaid.

"What? I certainly am. Ain't everybody's daddy the deadestshotinMaycombCounty."

Jemsaid,"Ireckonifhe'dwantedustoknowit,he'datoldus.Ifhewasproudofit,he'datoldus."

"Maybeitjustslippedhismind,"Isaid.

"Naw,Scout,it'ssomethingyouwouldn'tunderstand.Atticusisreal old, but I wouldn't care if he couldn't do anything- Iwouldn'tcareifhecouldn'tdoablessedthing."

Jempicked up a rock and threw it jubilantly at the carhouse.Running after it, he called back: "Atticus is a gentleman, justlikeme!"

11

Whenwewere small, Jemand I confinedouractivities to thesouthern neighborhood, but when I was well into the secondgradeatschoolandtormentingBooRadleybecamepasse,thebusinesssectionofMaycombdrewus frequentlyup thestreetpast the realpropertyofMrs.HenryLafayetteDubose. Itwasimpossibletogototownwithoutpassingherhouseunlesswewished to walk a mile out of the way. Previous minorencounterswithher leftmewithnodesire formore,but JemsaidIhadtogrowupsometime.

Mrs. Dubose lived alone except for a Negro girl in constantattendance, two doors up the street from us in a house withsteep front steps and a dog-trot hall. She was very old; shespentmostofeachdayinbedandtherestofitinawheelchair.ItwasrumoredthatshekeptaCSApistolconcealedamonghernumerousshawlsandwraps.

JemandIhatedher.Ifshewasontheporchwhenwepassed,wewouldberakedbyherwrathfulgaze,subjectedtoruthlessinterrogation regarding our behavior, and given a melancholyprediction on what we would amount to when we grew up,whichwasalwaysnothing.Wehadlongagogivenuptheideaofwalking past her house on the opposite side of the street;that only made her raise her voice and let the wholeneighborhoodinonit.

We could do nothing to please her. If I said as sunnily as Icould,"Hey,Mrs.Dubose,"Iwouldreceiveforananswer,"Don'tyousayheytome,youuglygirl!Yousaygoodafternoon,Mrs.Dubose!"

She was vicious. Once she heard Jem refer to our father as

"Atticus" and her reaction was apoplectic. Besides being thesassiest,mostdisrespectfulmuttswhoeverpassedherway,weweretoldthatitwasquiteapityourfatherhadnotremarriedafterourmother'sdeath.Alovelierladythanourmotherneverlived,shesaid,anditwasheartbreakingthewayAtticusFinchlether children runwild. I didnot rememberourmother, butJemdid-hewould tellmeabouthersometimes-andhewentlividwhenMrs.Duboseshotusthismessage.

Jem,havingsurvivedBooRadley,amaddogandotherterrors,had concluded that it was cowardly to stop at Miss Rachel'sfrontstepsandwait,andhaddecreedthatwemustrunasfaras thepostofficecornereachevening tomeetAtticuscomingfromwork.CountlesseveningsAtticuswouldfindJemfuriousatsomethingMrs.Dubosehadsaidwhenwewentby.

"Easydoes it, son,"Atticuswould say. "She'sanold ladyandshe's ill. You just hold your head high and be a gentleman.Whatevershesaystoyou,it'syourjobnottolethermakeyoumad."

Jem would say she must not be very sick, she hollered so.Whenthethreeofuscametoherhouse,Atticuswouldsweepoffhishat,wavegallantlytoherandsay,"Goodevening,Mrs.Dubose!Youlooklikeapicturethisevening."

IneverheardAtticussay likeapictureofwhat.Hewould tellherthecourthousenews,andwouldsayhehopedwithallhisheartshe'dhaveagooddaytomorrow.Hewouldreturnhishatto his head, swingme to his shoulders in her very presence,andwewouldgohome inthetwilight.Itwastimes likethesewhenIthoughtmyfather,whohatedgunsandhadneverbeentoanywars,wasthebravestmanwhoeverlived.

ThedayafterJem'stwelfthbirthdayhismoneywasburninguphispockets,soweheadedfortownintheearlyafternoon.Jemthought he had enough to buy a miniature steam engine forhimselfandatwirlingbatonforme.

Ihadlonghadmyeyeonthatbaton:itwasatV.J.Elmore's,itwasbedeckedwithsequinsandtinsel, itcostseventeencents.ItwasthenmyburningambitiontogrowupandtwirlwiththeMaycomb County High School band. Having developed mytalent to where I could throw up a stick and almost catch itcomingdown, IhadcausedCalpurnia todenymeentrance tothehouseeverytimeshesawmewithastickinmyhand.Ifeltthat I could overcome this defect with a real baton, and IthoughtitgenerousofJemtobuyoneforme.

Mrs.Dubosewasstationedonherporchwhenwewentby.

"Where are you two going at this time of day?" she shouted."Playinghooky,Isuppose.I'lljustcalluptheprincipalandtellhim!" She put her hands on the wheels of her chair andexecutedaperfectrightface.

"Aw,it'sSaturday,Mrs.Dubose,"saidJem.

"Makes no difference if it's Saturday," she said obscurely. "Iwonderifyourfatherknowswhereyouare?"

"Mrs.Dubose,we'vebeengoin'totownbyourselvessincewewerethishigh."Jemplacedhishandpalmdownabouttwofeetabovethesidewalk.

"Don't you lie to me!" she yelled. "Jeremy Finch, MaudieAtkinson toldme you broke down her scuppernong arbor thismorning.She'sgoingtotellyourfatherandthenyou'llwishyounever saw the light of day! If you aren't sent to the reformschoolbeforenextweek,myname'snotDubose!"

Jem, who hadn't been near Miss Maudie's scuppernong arborsince last summer, and who knew Miss Maudie wouldn't tellAtticusifhehad,issuedageneraldenial.

v

"Don'tyoucontradictme!"Mrs.Dubosebawled."Andyou-"she

pointedanarthriticfingeratme-"whatareyoudoinginthoseoveralls? You should be in a dress and camisole, young lady!You'll grow up waiting on tables if somebody doesn't changeyourways-aFinchwaitingontablesattheO.K.Cafe-hah!"

I was terrified. The O.K. Cafe was a dim organization on thenorthsideofthesquare.IgrabbedJem'shandbutheshookmeloose.

"Come on, Scout," he whispered. "Don't pay any attention toher,justholdyourheadhighandbeagentleman."

ButMrs.Dubose held us: "Not only a Finchwaiting on tablesbutoneinthecourthouselawingforniggers!"

Jemstiffened.Mrs.Dubose'sshothadgonehomeandsheknewit:

"Yes indeed, what has this world come towhen a Finch goesagainst his raising? I'll tell you!" She put her hand to hermouth.Whenshedrewitaway,ittrailedalongsilverthreadofsaliva. "Your father's no better than the niggers and trash heworksfor!"

Jemwasscarlet.Ipulledathissleeve,andwewerefollowedupthesidewalkbyaphilippiconourfamily'smoraldegeneration,themajorpremiseofwhichwas thathalf theFincheswere intheasylumanyway,butifourmotherwerelivingwewouldnothavecometosuchastate.

Iwasn'tsurewhatJemresentedmost,butI tookumbrageatMrs.Dubose'sassessmentofthefamily'smentalhygiene.IhadbecomealmostaccustomedtohearinginsultsaimedatAtticus.Butthiswasthefirstonecomingfromanadult.ExceptforherremarksaboutAtticus,Mrs.Dubose'sattackwasonly routine.Therewasahintof summer in theair- in theshadows itwascool,butthesunwaswarm,whichmeantgoodtimescoming:noschoolandDill.

JemboughthissteamengineandwewentbyElmore'sformybaton.Jemtooknopleasureinhisacquisition;hejammeditinhispocketandwalkedsilentlybesidemetowardhome.OnthewayhomeInearlyhitMr.LinkDeas,whosaid,"Lookoutnow,Scout!"when Imissed a toss, andwhenwe approachedMrs.Dubose'shousemybatonwasgrimy fromhavingpicked itupoutofthedirtsomanytimes.

Shewasnotontheporch.

In lateryears, I sometimeswonderedexactlywhatmadeJemdo it, what made him break the bonds of "You just be agentleman, son," and thephase of self-conscious rectitudehehad recently entered. Jem had probably stood as much guffabout Atticus lawing for niggers as had I, and I took it forgranted that he kept his temper- he had a naturally tranquildispositionandaslowfuse.Atthetime,however,Ithoughttheonlyexplanationforwhathedidwasthatforafewminuteshesimplywentmad.

WhatJemdidwassomethingI'ddoasamatterofcoursehadInotbeenunderAtticus'sinterdict,whichIassumedincludednotfightinghorribleoldladies.WehadjustcometohergatewhenJemsnatchedmybatonandranflailingwildlyupthestepsintoMrs.Dubose'sfrontyard,forgettingeverythingAtticushadsaid,forgettingthatshepackedapistolunderhershawls,forgettingthatifMrs.Dubosemissed,hergirlJessieprobablywouldn't.

He did not begin to calm down until he had cut the tops offeverycamelliabushMrs.Duboseowned,until thegroundwaslitteredwithgreenbudsandleaves.Hebentmybatonagainsthisknee,snappeditintwoandthrewitdown.

BythattimeIwasshrieking.Jemyankedmyhair,saidhedidn'tcare,he'ddoitagainifhegotachance,andifIdidn'tshutuphe'd pull every hair out ofmy head. I didn't shut up and hekickedme. I lostmybalanceand fellonmy face. Jempickedmeuproughlybutlookedlikehewassorry.Therewasnothing

tosay.

WedidnotchoosetomeetAtticuscominghomethatevening.WeskulkedaroundthekitchenuntilCalpurniathrewusout.Bysome voo-doo systemCalpurnia seemed to know all about it.Shewasalessthansatisfactorysourceofpalliation,butshedidgive Jem a hot biscuit-and-butter which he tore in half andsharedwithme.Ittastedlikecotton.

We went to the livingroom. I picked up a football magazine,foundapictureofDixieHowell,showedittoJemandsaid,"Thislookslikeyou."ThatwasthenicestthingIcouldthinktosaytohim,butitwasnohelp.Hesatbythewindows,huncheddowninarockingchair,scowling,waiting.Daylightfaded.

Twogeologicalageslater,weheardthesolesofAtticus'sshoesscrapethefrontsteps.Thescreendoorslammed,therewasapause-Atticuswasatthehatrackinthehall-andweheardhimcall,"Jem!"Hisvoicewaslikethewinterwind.

Atticusswitchedontheceilinglightinthelivingroomandfoundusthere,frozenstill.Hecarriedmybatoninonehand;itsfilthyyellowtasseltrailedontherug.Heheldouthisotherhand; itcontainedfatcamelliabuds.

"Jem,"hesaid,"areyouresponsibleforthis?"

"Yessir."

"Why'dyoudoit?"

Jemsaidsoftly,"Shesaidyoulawedforniggersandtrash."

"Youdidthisbecauseshesaidthat?"

Jem'slipsmoved,buthis,"Yessir,"wasinaudible.

"Son, I have no doubt that you've been annoyed by yourcontemporariesaboutmelawingforniggers,asyousay,butto

do something like this to a sick old lady is inexcusable. Istrongly advise you to go down and have a talk with Mrs.Dubose,"saidAtticus."Comestraighthomeafterward."

Jemdidnotmove.

"Goon,Isaid."

IfollowedJemoutofthelivingroom."Comebackhere,"Atticussaidtome.Icameback.

AtticuspickeduptheMobilePressandsatdownintherockingchairJemhadvacated.Forthelifeofme,IdidnotunderstandhowhecouldsitthereincoldbloodandreadanewspaperwhenhisonlysonstoodanexcellentchanceofbeingmurderedwithaConfederate Army relic. Of course Jem antagonized mesometimesuntilIcouldkillhim,butwhenitcamedowntoithewasallIhad.Atticusdidnotseemtorealizethis,orifhedidhedidn'tcare.

Ihatedhimforthat,butwhenyouare introubleyoubecomeeasily tired: soon I was hiding in his lap and his arms werearoundme.

"You'remightybigtoberocked,"hesaid.

"You don't carewhat happens to him," I said. "You just sendhimontogetshotatwhenallhewasdoin'wasstandin'upforyou."

Atticuspushedmyheadunderhischin."It'snottimetoworryyet," he said. "I never thought Jem'd be the one to lose hisheadoverthis-thoughtI'dhavemoretroublewithyou."

IsaidIdidn'tseewhywehadtokeepourheadsanyway,thatnobodyIknewatschoolhadtokeephisheadaboutanything.

"Scout,"saidAtticus,"whensummercomesyou'llhavetokeepyourheadaboutfarworsethings...it'snotfairforyouandJem,

Iknowthat,butsometimeswehavetomakethebestofthings,and thewaywe conduct ourselveswhen the chips are down-well, all I can say is, when you and Jem are grown, maybeyou'lllookbackonthiswithsomecompassionandsomefeelingthat I didn't let youdown. This case, TomRobinson's case, issomething that goes to the essence of a man's conscience-Scout,Icouldn'tgotochurchandworshipGodifIdidn'ttrytohelpthatman."

"Atticus,youmustbewrong...."

"How'sthat?"

"Well, most folks seem to think they're right and you'rewrong...."

"They'recertainlyentitledtothinkthat,andthey'reentitledtofull respect for their opinions," said Atticus, "but before I canlivewithotherfolksI'vegottolivewithmyself.Theonethingthatdoesn'tabidebymajorityruleisaperson'sconscience."

When Jem returned, he foundme still in Atticus's lap, "Well,son?"saidAtticus.Hesetmeonmyfeet,andImadeasecretreconnaissanceofJem.Heseemedtobeallinonepiece,buthehadaqueerlookonhisface.Perhapsshehadgivenhimadoseofcalomel.

"IcleaneditupforherandsaidIwassorry,butIain't,andthatI'dworkon'emeverSaturdayandtrytomake'emgrowbackout."

"Therewasnopointinsayingyouweresorryifyouaren't,"saidAtticus. "Jem, she's old and ill. You can't holdher responsiblefor what she says and does. Of course, I'd rather she'd havesaidittomethantoeitherofyou,butwecan'talwayshaveour'druthers."

Jem seemed fascinated by a rose in the carpet. "Atticus," he

said,"shewantsmetoreadtoher."

"Readtoher?"

"Yes sir. She wantsme to come every afternoon after schoolandSaturdaysandreadtoheroutloudfortwohours.Atticus,doIhaveto?"

"Certainly."

"Butshewantsmetodoitforamonth."

"Thenyou'lldoitforamonth."

Jemplantedhisbigtoedelicatelyinthecenteroftheroseandpressed it in. Finally he said, "Atticus, it's all right on thesidewalk but inside it's- it's all dark and creepy. There'sshadowsandthingsontheceiling...."

Atticussmiledgrimly."Thatshouldappealtoyourimagination.Justpretendyou'reinsidetheRadleyhouse."

The followingMonday afternoon Jem and I climbed the steepfrontstepstoMrs.Dubose'shouseandpaddeddowntheopenhallway. Jem, armed with Ivanhoe and full of superiorknowledge,knockedattheseconddoorontheleft.

"Mrs.Dubose?"hecalled.

Jessieopenedthewooddoorandunlatchedthescreendoor.

"Is that you, Jem Finch?" she said. "You got your sister withyou.Idon'tknow-"

"Let'embothin,Jessie,"saidMrs.Dubose.Jessieadmittedusandwentofftothekitchen.

Anoppressiveodormetuswhenwecrossedthethreshold,an

odor I hadmetmany times in rain-rotted gray houseswherethere are coal-oil lamps, water dippers, and unbleacheddomestic sheets. It always made me afraid, expectant,watchful.

Inthecorneroftheroomwasabrassbed,andinthebedwasMrs.Dubose. Iwondered if Jem'sactivitieshadputher there,andforamomentIfeltsorryforher.Shewaslyingunderapileofquiltsandlookedalmostfriendly.

Therewasamarble-toppedwashstandbyherbed;onitwereaglass with a teaspoon in it, a red ear syringe, a box ofabsorbentcotton,andasteelalarmclockstandingonthreetinylegs.

"Soyoubrought thatdirty littlesisterofyours,didyou?"washergreeting.

Jemsaidquietly,"Mysisterain'tdirtyandIain'tscaredofyou,"althoughInoticedhiskneesshaking.

I was expecting a tirade, but all she said was, "You maycommencereading,Jeremy."

Jem sat down in a cane-bottom chair and opened Ivanhoe. Ipulledupanotheroneandsatbesidehim.

"Comecloser,"saidMrs.Dubose."Cometothesideofthebed."

Wemovedourchairsforward.ThiswasthenearestIhadeverbeentoher,andthethingIwantedmosttodowasmovemychairbackagain.

Shewashorrible.Her facewasthecolorofadirtypillowcase,andthecornersofhermouthglistenedwithwet,whichinchedlike a glacier down the deep grooves enclosing her chin.Old-ageliverspotsdottedhercheeks,andherpaleeyeshadblackpinpointpupils.Herhandswereknobby,andthecuticlesweregrownupoverherfingernails.Herbottomplatewasnotin,and

herupperlipprotruded;fromtimetotimeshewoulddrawhernether lip to her upper plate and carry her chin with it. Thismadethewetmovefaster.

Ididn'tlookanymorethanIhadto.JemreopenedIvanhoeandbeganreading.Itriedtokeepupwithhim,buthereadtoofast.When Jemcame toawordhedidn't know,he skipped it, butMrs.Dubosewould catchhimandmakehim spell it out. Jemreadforperhapstwentyminutes,duringwhichtimeIlookedatthe soot-stained mantelpiece, out the window, anywhere tokeepfromlookingather.Ashereadalong,InoticedthatMrs.Dubose'scorrectionsgrewfewerandfartherbetween,thatJemhad even left one sentence dangling in mid-air. She was notlistening.

Ilookedtowardthebed.

Somethinghadhappenedtoher.Shelayonherback,withthequiltsuptoherchin.Onlyherheadandshoulderswerevisible.Herheadmovedslowlyfromsidetoside.Fromtimetotimeshewould open her mouth wide, and I could see her tongueundulate faintly.Cords of salivawould collect onher lips; shewould draw them in, then open hermouth again. Hermouthseemed to have a private existence of its own. It workedseparateandapartfromtherestofher,outandin,likeaclamhole at low tide. Occasionally it would say, "Pt," like someviscoussubstancecomingtoaboil.

IpulledJem'ssleeve.

He lookedatme, thenat thebed.Herheadmade its regularsweep toward us, and Jem said, "Mrs. Dubose, are you allright?"Shedidnothearhim.

The alarm clock went off and scared us stiff. A minute later,nervesstilltingling,JemandIwereonthesidewalkheadedforhome.We did not run away, Jessie sent us: before the clockwounddownshewasintheroompushingJemandmeoutofit.

"Shoo,"shesaid,"youallgohome."

Jemhesitatedatthedoor.

"It'stimeforhermedicine,"Jessiesaid.Asthedoorswungshutbehind us I saw Jessie walking quickly toward Mrs. Dubose'sbed.

Itwasonly three forty-fivewhenwegothome, so Jemand Idrop-kicked inthebackyarduntil itwastimetomeetAtticus.Atticushad twoyellowpencils formeanda footballmagazineforJem,whichIsupposewasasilentrewardforourfirstday'ssessionwithMrs.Dubose.Jemtoldhimwhathappened.

"Didshefrightenyou?"askedAtticus.

"No sir," said Jem, "but she's so nasty. She has fits orsomethin'.Shespitsalot."

"Shecan'thelpthat.Whenpeoplearesicktheydon'tlooknicesometimes."

"Shescaredme,"Isaid.

Atticus looked at me over his glasses. "You don't have to gowithJem,youknow."

ThenextafternoonatMrs.Dubose'swasthesameasthefirst,and so was the next, until gradually a pattern emerged:everything would begin normally- that is, Mrs. Dubose wouldhound Jem for awhile on her favorite subjects, her camelliasand our father's nigger-loving propensities; she would growincreasingly silent, then go away from us. The alarm clockwould ring, Jessiewould shoousout,and the restof thedaywasours.

"Atticus,"Isaidoneevening,"whatexactlyisanigger-lover?"

Atticus'sfacewasgrave."Hassomebodybeencallingyouthat?"

"No sir, Mrs. Dubose calls you that. She warms up everyafternoon calling you that. Francis called me that lastChristmas,that'swhereIfirstheardit."

"Isthatthereasonyoujumpedonhim?"askedAtticus.

"Yessir..."

"Thenwhyareyouaskingmewhatitmeans?"

ItriedtoexplaintoAtticusthatitwasn'tsomuchwhatFrancissaidthathad infuriatedmeasthewayhehadsaid it."Itwaslikehe'dsaidsnot-noseorsomethin'."

"Scout," said Atticus, "nigger-lover is just one of those termsthatdon'tmeananything- likesnot-nose. It'shard toexplain-ignorant, trashy people use it when they think somebody'sfavoringNegroes over and above themselves. It's slipped intousage with some people like ourselves, when they want acommon,uglytermtolabelsomebody."

"Youaren'treallyanigger-lover,then,areyou?"

"Icertainlyam.Idomybesttoloveeverybody...I'mhardput,sometimes- baby, it's never an insult to be called whatsomebody thinks is a bad name. It just shows you how poorthatpersonis,itdoesn'thurtyou.Sodon'tletMrs.Dubosegetyoudown.Shehasenoughtroublesofherown."

One afternoon a month later Jem was ploughing his waythroughSirWalterScout,asJemcalledhim,andMrs.Dubosewascorrectinghimatevery turn,when therewasaknockonthedoor."Comein!"shescreamed.

Atticus came in. He went to the bed and took Mrs. Dubose'shand. "I was coming from the office and didn't see thechildren,"hesaid."Ithoughttheymightstillbehere."

Mrs.Dubosesmiledathim.ForthelifeofmeIcouldnotfigure

out how she could bring herself to speak to him when sheseemedtohatehimso."Doyouknowwhattimeitis,Atticus?"shesaid."Exactlyfourteenminutespastfive.Thealarmclock'ssetforfive-thirty.Iwantyoutoknowthat."

Itsuddenlycametomethateachdaywehadbeenstayingalittle longer atMrs.Dubose's, that the alarm clockwent off afewminuteslatereveryday,andthatshewaswellintooneofherfitsbythetimeitsounded.TodayshehadantagonizedJemfornearlytwohourswithnointentionofhavingafit,andIfelthopelessly trapped. The alarm clock was the signal for ourrelease;ifonedayitdidnotring,whatwouldwedo?

"Ihavea feelingthatJem'sreadingdaysarenumbered,"saidAtticus.

"Onlyaweeklonger,Ithink,"shesaid,"justtomakesure..."

Jemrose."But-"

AtticusputouthishandandJemwassilent.Onthewayhome,Jemsaidhehadtodoitjustforamonthandthemonthwasupanditwasn'tfair.

"Justonemoreweek,son,"saidAtticus.

"No,"saidJem.

"Yes,"saidAtticus.

ThefollowingweekfoundusbackatMrs.Dubose's.Thealarmclockhadceasedsounding,butMrs.Dubosewould releaseuswith, "That'll do," so late in the afternoon Atticus would behome reading the paper when we returned. Although her fitshadpassedoff,shewasineveryotherwayheroldself:whenSir Walter Scott became involved in lengthy descriptions ofmoatsandcastles,Mrs.Dubosewouldbecomeboredandpickonus:

"Jeremy Finch, I told you you'd live to regret tearing up mycamellias.Youregretitnow,don'tyou?"

Jemwouldsayhecertainlydid.

"Thought you could kill my Snow-on-the-Mountain, did you?Well, Jessie says the top's growing back out. Next time you'llknowhowtodoitright,won'tyou?You'llpullitupbytheroots,won'tyou?"

Jemwouldsayhecertainlywould.

"Don'tyoumutteratme,boy!Youholdupyourheadandsayyesma'am.Don'tguessyoufeellikeholdingitup,though,withyourfatherwhatheis."

Jem'schinwouldcomeup,andhewouldgazeatMrs.Dubosewith a face devoid of resentment. Through theweeks he hadcultivatedanexpressionofpoliteanddetached interest,whichhewouldpresent toher inanswer tohermostblood-curdlinginventions.

Atlastthedaycame.WhenMrs.Dubosesaid,"That'lldo,"oneafternoon,sheadded,"Andthat'sall.Good-daytoyou."

Itwasover.Weboundeddownthesidewalkonaspreeofsheerrelief,leapingandhowling.

Thatspringwasagoodone:thedaysgrewlongerandgaveusmore playing time. Jem'smind was occupiedmostly with thevital statistics of every college football player in the nation.Every night Atticus would read us the sports pages of thenewspapers. Alabama might go to the Rose Bowl again thisyear, judging from its prospects, not one ofwhose nameswecouldpronounce.Atticuswas in themiddleofWindySeaton'scolumnoneeveningwhenthetelephonerang.

Heansweredit,thenwenttothehatrackinthehall."I'mgoingdowntoMrs.Dubose'sforawhile,"hesaid."Iwon'tbelong."

ButAtticusstayedawayuntil longpastmybedtime.Whenhereturnedhewascarryingacandybox.Atticussatdowninthelivingroomandputtheboxonthefloorbesidehischair.

"What'dshewant?"askedJem.

WehadnotseenMrs.Duboseforoveramonth.Shewasneverontheporchanymorewhenwepassed.

"She'sdead,son,"saidAtticus."Shediedafewminutesago."

"Oh,"saidJem."Well."

"Wellisright,"saidAtticus."She'snotsufferinganymore.Shewas sick for a long time. Son, didn't you know what her fitswere?"

Jemshookhishead.

"Mrs.Dubosewasamorphineaddict,"saidAtticus."Shetookitasapain-killerforyears.Thedoctorputheronit.She'dhavespenttherestofherlifeonitanddiedwithoutsomuchagony,butshewastoocontrary-"

"Sir?"saidJem.

Atticussaid,"Justbeforeyourescapadeshecalledmetomakeherwill.Dr.Reynoldstoldhershehadonlyafewmonthsleft.Herbusinessaffairswereinperfectorderbutshesaid,'There'sstillonethingoutoforder.'"

"Whatwasthat?"Jemwasperplexed.

"Shesaidshewasgoingtoleavethisworldbeholdentonothingandnobody.Jem,whenyou'resickasshewas, it'sallrighttotakeanything tomake it easier,but itwasn'tall right forher.Shesaidshemeanttobreakherselfof itbeforeshedied,andthat'swhatshedid."

Jemsaid,"Youmeanthat'swhatherfitswere?"

"Yes,that'swhattheywere.MostofthetimeyouwerereadingtoherIdoubtifsheheardawordyousaid.Herwholemindandbodywereconcentratedonthatalarmclock.Ifyouhadn'tfalleninto her hands, I'd havemade you go read to her anyway. Itmayhavebeensomedistraction.Therewasanotherreason-"

"Didshediefree?"askedJem.

"As themountainair," saidAtticus. "Shewasconscious to thelast,almost.Conscious,"hesmiled,"andcantankerous.Shestilldisapprovedheartilyofmydoings,andsaidI'dprobablyspendtherestofmylifebailingyououtofjail.ShehadJessiefixyouthisbox-"

Atticusreacheddownandpickedupthecandybox.HehandedittoJem.

Jem opened the box. Inside, surrounded by wads of dampcotton,wasawhite,waxy,perfectcamellia.ItwasaSnow-on-the-Mountain.

Jem's eyesnearly poppedout of his head. "Oldhell-devil, oldhell-devil!"hescreamed,flingingitdown."Whycan'tsheleavemealone?"

InaflashAtticuswasupandstandingoverhim.Jemburiedhisface inAtticus's shirt front. "Sh-h," he said. "I think thatwasher way of telling you- everything's all right now, Jem,everything'sallright.Youknow,shewasagreatlady."

"A lady?" Jem raisedhis head.His facewas scarlet. "After allthosethingsshesaidaboutyou,alady?"

"Shewas.Shehadherownviewsaboutthings,a lotdifferentfrommine,maybe...son,Itoldyouthatifyouhadn'tlostyourhead I'd havemade you go read to her. Iwanted you to seesomethingabouther-Iwantedyoutoseewhatrealcourageis,

insteadofgettingtheideathatcourageisamanwithaguninhishand.It'swhenyouknowyou'relickedbeforeyoubeginbutyoubeginanywayandyouseeitthroughnomatterwhat.Yourarelywin,butsometimesyoudo.Mrs.Dubosewon,allninety-eightpoundsofher.Accordingtoherviews,shediedbeholdento nothing and nobody. She was the bravest person I everknew."

Jempickedupthecandyboxandthrewitinthefire.Hepickedupthecamellia,andwhenIwentofftobedIsawhimfingeringthewidepetals.Atticuswasreadingthepaper.

PARTTWO

12

Jem was twelve. He was difficult to live with, inconsistent,moody. His appetite was appalling, and he told me so manytimes to stop pestering him I consulted Atticus: "Reckon he'sgotatapeworm?"Atticussaidno,Jemwasgrowing.Imustbepatientwithhimanddisturbhimaslittleaspossible.

ThischangeinJemhadcomeaboutinamatterofweeks.Mrs.Dubose was not cold in her grave- Jem had seemed gratefulenough for my company when he went to read to her.Overnight, itseemed,Jemhadacquiredanaliensetofvaluesandwas trying to impose themonme:several timeshewentsofarastotellmewhattodo.AfteronealtercationwhenJemhollered, "It's timeyoustartedbein'agirlandactingright!" IburstintotearsandfledtoCalpurnia.

"Don'tyoufrettoomuchoverMisterJem-"shebegan.

"MisterJem?"

"Yeah,he'sjustaboutMisterJemnow."

"He ain't that old," I said. "All he needs is somebody to beathimup,andIain'tbigenough."

"Baby," said Calpurnia, "I just can't help it if Mister Jem'sgrowin'up.He'sgonnawanttobeofftohimselfalotnow,doin'whatever boys do, so you just come right on in the kitchenwhenyoufeellonesome.We'llfindlotsofthingstodoinhere."

Thebeginningofthatsummerbodedwell:Jemcoulddoashepleased;CalpurniawoulddountilDill came.SheseemedgladtoseemewhenIappearedinthekitchen,andbywatchingher

Ibegantothinktherewassomeskillinvolvedinbeingagirl.

But summer came and Dill was not there. I received a letterandasnapshotfromhim.The lettersaidhehadanewfatherwhose picture was enclosed, and he would have to stay inMeridian because they planned to build a fishing boat. HisfatherwasalawyerlikeAtticus,onlymuchyounger.Dill'snewfather had a pleasant face, which made me glad Dill hadcaptured him, but Iwas crushed.Dill concluded by saying hewouldlovemeforeverandnottoworry,hewouldcomegetmeandmarryme as soon as he got enoughmoney together, sopleasewrite.

ThefactthatIhadapermanentfiancewaslittlecompensationforhisabsence:Ihadneverthoughtaboutit,butsummerwasDill by the fishpool smoking string, Dill's eyes alive withcomplicated plans to make Boo Radley emerge; summer wastheswiftnesswithwhichDillwouldreachupandkissmewhenJemwasnotlooking,thelongingswesometimesfelteachotherfeel. With him, life was routine; without him, life wasunbearable.Istayedmiserablefortwodays.

Asifthatwerenotenough,thestatelegislaturewascalledintoemergency session and Atticus left us for two weeks. TheGovernorwas eager to scrape a fewbarnacles off the ship ofstate;thereweresit-downstrikesinBirmingham;breadlinesinthe cities grew longer, people in the country grewpoorer.ButthesewereeventsremotefromtheworldofJemandme.

We were surprised one morning to see a cartoon in theMontgomeryAdvertiserabove the caption, "Maycomb'sFinch."It showedAtticusbarefootedand in short pants, chained toadesk:hewasdiligentlywritingonaslatewhilesomefrivolous-lookinggirlsyelled,"Yoo-hoo!"athim.

"That's a compliment," explained Jem. "He spends his timedoin'thingsthatwouldn'tgetdoneifnobodydid'em."

"Huh?"

In addition to Jem's newly developed characteristics, he hadacquiredamaddeningairofwisdom.

"Oh,Scout,it'slikereorganizingthetaxsystemsofthecountiesandthings.Thatkindofthing'sprettydrytomostmen."

"Howdoyouknow?"

"Oh,goonandleavemealone.I'mreadin'thepaper."

Jemgothiswish.Idepartedforthekitchen.

Whileshewasshellingpeas,Calpurniasuddenlysaid,"WhatamIgonnadoaboutyouall'schurchthisSunday?"

"Nothing,Ireckon.Atticusleftuscollection."

Calpurnia's eyes narrowed and I could tell what was goingthrough her mind. "Cal," I said, "you know we'll behave. Wehaven'tdoneanythinginchurchinyears."

CalpurniaevidentlyrememberedarainySundaywhenwewereboth fatherless and teacherless. Left to its own devices, theclasstiedEuniceAnnSimpsontoachairandplacedherinthefurnace room.We forgot her, trooped upstairs to church, andwere listening quietly to the sermonwhen a dreadful bangingissued from the radiator pipes, persisting until someoneinvestigated and brought forth Eunice Ann saying she didn'twanttoplayShadrachanymore-JemFinchsaidshewouldn'tgetburntifshehadenoughfaith,butitwashotdownthere.

"Besides, Cal, this isn't the first time Atticus has left us," Iprotested.

"Yeah, but hemakes certain your teacher's gonnabe there. Ididn't hear him say this time- reckon he forgot it." Calpurniascratched her head. Suddenly she smiled. "How'd you and

MisterJemliketocometochurchwithmetomorrow?"

"Really?"

"How'boutit?"grinnedCalpurnia.

IfCalpurniahadeverbathedmeroughlybefore,itwasnothingcompared to her supervision of that Saturday night's routine.Shemademesoapallovertwice,drewfreshwater inthetubforeach rinse; shestuckmyhead in thebasinandwashed itwithOctagonsoapandcastile.ShehadtrustedJemforyears,but that night she invaded his privacy and provoked anoutburst:"Can'tanybodytakeabathinthishousewithoutthewholefamilylookin'?"

Next morning she began earlier than usual, to "go over ourclothes."WhenCalpurniastayedovernightwithusshesleptona folding cot in thekitchen; thatmorning itwas coveredwithour Sunday habiliments. She had put so much starch in mydress it came up like a tentwhen I sat down. Shemademewearapetticoatandshewrappedapinksashtightlyaroundmywaist. She went over my patent-leather shoes with a coldbiscuituntilshesawherfaceinthem.

"It'slikeweweregoin'toMardiGras,"saidJem."What'sallthisfor,Cal?"

"Idon'twantanybodysayin'Idon'tlookaftermychildren,"shemuttered. "Mister Jem,youabsolutelycan'twear that tiewiththatsuit.It'sgreen."

"'smatterwiththat?"

"Suit'sblue.Can'tyoutell?"

"Heehee,"Ihowled,"Jem'scolorblind."

His face flushed angrily, but Calpurnia said, "Now you all quitthat. You're gonna go to First Purchase with smiles on your

faces."

FirstPurchaseAfricanM.E.ChurchwasintheQuartersoutsidethesoutherntown limits,acrosstheoldsawmill tracks.Itwasan ancient paint-peeled frame building, the only church inMaycombwithasteepleandbell,calledFirstPurchasebecauseitwaspaidforfromthefirstearningsoffreedslaves.Negroesworshiped in it on Sundays and white men gambled in it onweekdays.

Thechurchyardwasbrick-hardclay,aswasthecemeterybesideit. If someone died during a dry spell, the bodywas coveredwithchunksoficeuntilrainsoftenedtheearth.Afewgravesinthecemeteryweremarkedwithcrumbling tombstones;neweroneswereoutlinedwithbrightlycoloredglassandbrokenCoca-Cola bottles. Lightning rods guarding some graves denoteddeadwhoresteduneasily;stumpsofburned-outcandlesstoodattheheadsofinfantgraves.Itwasahappycemetery.

ThewarmbittersweetsmellofcleanNegrowelcomedusasweentered the churchyard- Hearts of Love hairdressing mingledwith asafoetida, snuff, Hoyt's Cologne, Brown's Mule,peppermint,andlilactalcum.

When they saw JemandmewithCalpurnia, themensteppedbackandtookofftheirhats;thewomencrossedtheirarmsattheir waists, weekday gestures of respectful attention. Theyparted andmade a small pathway to the church door for us.Calpurnia walked between Jem and me, responding to thegreetingsofherbrightlycladneighbors.

"Whatyouupto,MissCal?"saidavoicebehindus.

Calpurnia's handswent to our shoulders andwe stopped andlookedaround:standinginthepathbehinduswasatallNegrowoman.Herweightwasononeleg;sherestedherleftelbowinthe curve of her hip, pointing at us with upturned palm. Shewas bullet-headed with strange almond-shaped eyes, straight

nose,andanIndian-bowmouth.Sheseemedsevenfeethigh.

I felt Calpurnia's hand dig intomy shoulder. "What youwant,Lula?" she asked, in tones I had never heard her use. Shespokequietly,contemptuously.

"I wants to know why you bringin' white chillun to niggerchurch."

"They'smycomp'ny,"saidCalpurnia.AgainIthoughthervoicestrange:shewastalkingliketherestofthem.

"Yeah,an'Ireckonyou'scomp'nyattheFinchhousedurin'theweek."

Amurmur ran through the crowd. "Don't you fret," Calpurniawhisperedtome,buttherosesonherhattrembledindignantly.

When Lula came up the pathway toward us Calpurnia said,"Stoprightthere,nigger."

Lulastopped,butshesaid, "Youain'tgotnobusinessbringin'whitechillunhere-theygottheirchurch,wegotour'n.Itisourchurch,ain'tit,MissCal?"

Calpurniasaid,"It'sthesameGod,ain'tit?"

Jemsaid,"Let'sgohome,Cal,theydon'twantushere-"

Iagreed:theydidnotwantushere.Isensed,ratherthansaw,thatwewerebeingadvancedupon.Theyseemedtobedrawingcloser to us, but when I looked up at Calpurnia there wasamusement in her eyes. When I looked down the pathwayagain,Lulawasgone.Inherplacewasasolidmassofcoloredpeople.

One of them stepped from the crowd. It was Zeebo, thegarbagecollector."MisterJem,"hesaid,"we'remightygladtohave you all here. Don't pay no 'tention to Lula, she's

contentiousbecauseReverendSykesthreatenedtochurchher.She's a troublemaker from way back, got fancy ideas an'haughtyways-we'remightygladtohaveyouall."

Withthat,Calpurnia ledustothechurchdoorwhereweweregreetedbyReverendSykes,wholedustothefrontpew.

First Purchase was unceiled and unpainted within. Along itswalls unlighted kerosene lamps hung on brass brackets; pinebenchesservedaspews.Behind the roughoakpulpita fadedpink silk banner proclaimed God Is Love, the church's onlydecorationexceptarotogravureprintofHunt'sTheLightoftheWorld.Therewasnosignofpiano,organ,hymn-books,churchprograms-thefamiliarecclesiasticalimpedimentawesaweverySunday. It was dim inside, with a damp coolness slowlydispelled by the gathering congregation. At each seat was acheap cardboard fanbearing a garishGardenofGethsemane,courtesyTyndal'sHardwareCo.(You-Name-It-We-Sell-It).

Calpurnia motioned Jem and me to the end of the row andplaced herself between us. She fished in her purse, drew outher handkerchief, and untied the hard wad of change in itscorner.ShegaveadimetomeandadimetoJem."We'vegotours,"hewhispered. "Youkeep it,"Calpurniasaid, "you'remycompany." Jem's face showedbrief indecisionon theethics ofwithholdinghisowndime,buthis innatecourtesywonandheshiftedhisdimetohispocket.Ididlikewisewithnoqualms.

"Cal,"Iwhispered,"wherearethehymn-books?"

"Wedon'thaveany,"shesaid.

"Wellhow-?"

"Sh-h," she said. Reverend Sykes was standing behind thepulpit staring the congregation to silence. He was a short,stockyman in a black suit, black tie, white shirt, and a goldwatch-chainthatglintedinthelightfromthefrostedwindows.

Hesaid,"Brethrenandsisters,weareparticularlygladtohavecompanywith us thismorning.Mister andMiss Finch. You allknow their father. Before I begin I will read someannouncements."

ReverendSykesshuffledsomepapers,choseoneandhelditatarm's length. "The Missionary Society meets in the home ofSisterAnnetteReevesnextTuesday.Bringyoursewing."

He read from another paper. "You all know of Brother TomRobinson's trouble. He has been a faithful member of FirstPurchasesincehewasaboy.ThecollectiontakenuptodayandforthenextthreeSundayswillgotoHelen-hiswife,tohelpheroutathome."

IpunchedJem."That'stheTomAtticus'sde-"

"Sh-h!"

I turned to Calpurnia but was hushed before I opened mymouth. Subdued, I fixed my attention upon Reverend Sykes,who seemed to be waiting for me to settle down. "Will themusicsuperintendentleadusinthefirsthymn,"hesaid.

Zeebo rose from his pew and walked down the center aisle,stopping in front of us and facing the congregation. He wascarrying a battered hymn-book.He opened it and said, "We'llsingnumbertwoseventy-three."

Thiswas toomuch forme. "How'rewe gonna sing it if thereain'tanyhymn-books?"

Calpurniasmiled. "Hushbaby,"shewhispered, "you'll see inaminute."

Zeeboclearedhisthroatandreadinavoiceliketherumbleofdistantartillery:

"There'salandbeyondtheriver."

Miraculouslyonpitch,ahundredvoicessangoutZeebo'swords.Thelastsyllable,heldtoahuskyhum,wasfollowedbyZeebosaying,

"Thatwecallthesweetforever."

Musicagainswelledaroundus;thelastnotelingeredandZeebomet it with the next line: "And we only reach that shore byfaith'sdecree."

The congregation hesitated, Zeebo repeated the line carefully,anditwassung.AtthechorusZeeboclosedthebook,asignalforthecongregationtoproceedwithouthishelp.

On the dying notes of "Jubilee," Zeebo said, "In that far-offsweetforever,justbeyondtheshiningriver."

Lineforline,voicesfollowedinsimpleharmonyuntilthehymnendedinamelancholymurmur.

IlookedatJem,whowaslookingatZeebofromthecornersofhiseyes.Ididn'tbelieveiteither,butwehadbothheardit.

ReverendSykes then called on the Lord to bless the sick andthesuffering,aprocedurenodifferentfromourchurchpractice,exceptReverendSykesdirectedtheDeity'sattentiontoseveralspecificcases.

His sermon was a forthright denunciation of sin, an austeredeclarationofthemottoonthewallbehindhim:hewarnedhisflock against the evils of heady brews, gambling, and strangewomen.BootleggerscausedenoughtroubleintheQuarters,butwomen were worse. Again, as I had oftenmet it in my ownchurch,IwasconfrontedwiththeImpurityofWomendoctrinethatseemedtopreoccupyallclergymen.

Jemand I had heard the same sermonSunday after Sunday,withonlyoneexception.ReverendSykesusedhispulpitmorefreelytoexpresshisviewsonindividuallapsesfromgrace:Jim

Hardy had been absent from church for five Sundays and hewasn'tsick;ConstanceJacksonhadbetterwatchherways-shewasingravedangerforquarrelingwithherneighbors;shehaderectedtheonlyspitefenceinthehistoryoftheQuarters.

ReverendSykesclosedhissermon.Hestoodbesidea table infront of the pulpit and requested the morning offering, aproceeding thatwasstrange to Jemandme.Onebyone, thecongregationcameforwardanddroppednickelsanddimesintoa black enameled coffee can. Jem and I followed suit, andreceivedasoft,"Thankyou,thankyou,"asourdimesclinked.

Toouramazement,ReverendSykesemptied thecanonto thetableandrakedthecoinsintohishand.Hestraightenedupandsaid,"Thisisnotenough,wemusthavetendollars."

The congregation stirred. "You all know what it's for- Helencan't leave those children to work while Tom's in jail. Ifeverybodygivesonemoredime,we'llhaveit-"ReverendSykeswaved his hand and called to someone in the back of thechurch."Alec,shutthedoors.Nobody leavesheretillwehavetendollars."

Calpurnia scratched in her handbag and brought forth abattered leather coin purse. "Naw Cal," Jemwhispered, whenshehandedhima shiny quarter, "we canput ours in.Gimmeyourdime,Scout."

The church was becoming stuffy, and it occurred to me thatReverendSykes intended to sweat the amount due out of hisflock. Fans crackled, feet shuffled, tobacco-chewers were inagony.

Reverend Sykes startled me by saying sternly, "CarlowRichardson,Ihaven'tseenyouupthisaisleyet."

A thinman in khaki pants cameup the aisle anddeposited acoin.Thecongregationmurmuredapproval.

ReverendSykesthensaid,"Iwantallofyouwithnochildrentomake a sacrifice and give one more dime apiece. Then we'llhaveit."

Slowly, painfully, the ten dollars was collected. The door wasopened, and thegust ofwarmair revivedus.Zeebo linedOnJordan'sStormyBanks,andchurchwasover.

Iwantedtostayandexplore,butCalpurniapropelledmeuptheaisleaheadofher.Atthechurchdoor,whileshepausedtotalkwith Zeebo and his family, Jem and I chatted with ReverendSykes.Iwasburstingwithquestions,butdecidedIwouldwaitandletCalpurniaanswerthem.

"Wewere 'specially glad to have you all here," said ReverendSykes."Thischurchhasnobetterfriendthanyourdaddy."

My curiosity burst: "Why were you all takin' up collection forTomRobinson'swife?"

"Didn't you hear why?" asked Reverend Sykes. "Helen's gotthreelittle'unsandshecan'tgoouttowork-"

"Whycan't she take 'emwithher,Reverend?" Iasked. Itwascustomary for fieldNegroeswith tinychildren todeposit themin whatever shade there was while their parents worked-usuallythebabiessatintheshadebetweentworowsofcotton.Those unable to sit were strapped papoose-style on theirmothers'backs,orresidedinextracottonbags.

Reverend Sykes hesitated. "To tell you the truth, Miss JeanLouise,Helen's finding it hard togetwork thesedays...whenit'spickingtime,IthinkMr.LinkDeas'lltakeher."

"Whynot,Reverend?"

Beforehecouldanswer,IfeltCalpurnia'shandonmyshoulder.At itspressureIsaid,"Wethankyoufor lettin'uscome."Jemechoedme,andwemadeourwayhomeward.

"Cal, I know Tom Robinson's in jail an' he's done somethin'awful,butwhywon'tfolkshireHelen?"Iasked.

Calpurnia, in her navy voile dress and tub of a hat, walkedbetween Jem and me. "It's because of what folks say Tom'sdone," she said. "Folksaren't anxious to- tohaveanything todowithanyofhisfamily."

"Justwhatdidhedo,Cal?"

Calpurniasighed. "OldMr.BobEwellaccusedhimof rapin'hisgirlan'hadhimarrestedan'putinjail-"

"Mr.Ewell?"Mymemorystirred."Doeshehaveanythingtodowith thoseEwells thatcomeevery firstdayofschoolan' thengohome?Why,Atticussaid theywereabsolute trash- Ineverheard Atticus talk about folks the way he talked about theEwells.Hesaid-"

"Yeah,thosearetheones."

"Well, if everybody inMaycomb knowswhat kind of folks theEwellsarethey'dbegladtohireHelen...what'srape,Cal?"

"It'ssomethin'you'llhavetoaskMr.Finchabout,"shesaid."Hecanexplain itbetterthanIcan.Youallhungry?TheReverendtook a long time unwindin' this morning, he's not usually sotedious."

"He'sjustlikeourpreacher,"saidJem,"butwhydoyouallsinghymnsthatway?"

"Linin'?"sheasked.

"Isthatwhatitis?"

"Yeah,it'scalledlinin'.They'vedoneitthatwayaslongasIcanremember."

Jemsaiditlookedliketheycouldsavethecollectionmoneyforayearandgetsomehymn-books.

Calpurnia laughed. "Wouldn't do any good," she said. "Theycan'tread."

"Can'tread?"Iasked."Allthosefolks?"

"That'sright,"Calpurnianodded."Can'tbutaboutfourfolks inFirstPurchaseread...I'moneof'em."

"Where'dyougotoschool,Cal?"askedJem.

"Nowhere. Let's see now, who taught me my letters? It wasMissMaudieAtkinson'saunt,oldMissBuford-"

"Areyouthatold?"

"I'molder thanMr. Finch, even."Calpurniagrinned. "Not surehowmuch,though.Westartedrememberin'onetime,tryingtofigureouthowoldIwas-Icanrememberbackjustafewyearsmore'nhe can, so I'mnotmucholder,whenyou takeoff thefactthatmencan'trememberaswellaswomen."

"What'syourbirthday,Cal?"

"IjusthaveitonChristmas,it'seasiertorememberthatway-Idon'thavearealbirthday."

"ButCal," Jemprotested, "youdon't lookevennearasoldasAtticus."

"Coloredfolksdon'tshowtheiragessofast,"shesaid.

"Maybebecausetheycan'tread.Cal,didyouteachZeebo?"

"Yeah,MisterJem.Therewasn'taschoolevenwhenhewasaboy.Imadehimlearn,though."

ZeebowasCalpurnia'seldestson.If Ihadever thoughtaboutit, I would have known that Calpurnia was of mature years-Zeebo had half-grown children- but then I had never thoughtaboutit.

"Didyouteachhimoutofaprimer,likeus?"Iasked.

"No,Imadehimgetapageof theBibleeveryday,andtherewasabookMissBufordtaughtmeoutof-betyoudon'tknowwhereIgotit,"shesaid.

Wedidn'tknow.

Calpurniasaid,"YourGranddaddyFinchgaveittome."

"Were you from the Landing?" Jem asked. "You never told usthat."

"Icertainlyam,Mister Jem.Grewupdowntherebetween theBufordPlaceandtheLandin'.I'vespentallmydaysworkin'fortheFinchesortheBufords,an'ImovedtoMaycombwhenyourdaddyandyourmammamarried."

"Whatwasthebook,Cal?"Iasked.

"Blackstone'sCommentaries."

Jem was thunderstruck. "You mean you taught Zeebo outathat?"

"Whyyessir,Mister Jem."Calpurnia timidlyputher fingers tohermouth. "Theywere theonlybooks Ihad.YourgrandaddysaidMr.BlackstonewrotefineEnglish-"

"That'swhyyoudon'ttalkliketherestof'em,"saidJem.

"Therestofwho?"

"Rest of the colored folks.Cal, but you talked like theydid in

church...."

ThatCalpurnia ledamodestdouble lifeneverdawnedonme.The idea that she had a separate existence outside ourhousehold was a novel one, to say nothing of her havingcommandoftwolanguages.

"Cal,"Iasked,"whydoyoutalknigger-talktothe-toyourfolkswhenyouknowit'snotright?"

"Well,inthefirstplaceI'mblack-"

"That doesn't mean you hafta talk that way when you knowbetter,"saidJem.

Calpurnia tiltedherhat and scratchedherhead, thenpressedher hat down carefully over her ears. "It's right hard to say,"shesaid. "SupposeyouandScout talkedcolored-folks' talkathome it'd be out of place, wouldn't it? Now what if I talkedwhite-folks'talkatchurch,andwithmyneighbors?They'dthinkIwasputtin'onairstobeatMoses."

"ButCal,youknowbetter,"Isaid.

"It'snotnecessarytotellallyouknow.It'snotladylike-inthesecondplace,folksdon'tliketohavesomebodyaroundknowin'morethantheydo.Itaggravates'em.You'renotgonnachangeany of them by talkin' right, they've got to want to learnthemselves,andwhentheydon'twanttolearnthere'snothingyoucandobutkeepyourmouthshutortalktheirlanguage."

"Cal,canIcometoseeyousometimes?"

She looked down atme. "Seeme, honey? You seeme everyday."

"Outtoyourhouse,"Isaid."Sometimesafterwork?Atticuscangetme."

"Anytimeyouwantto,"shesaid."We'dbegladtohaveyou."

WewereonthesidewalkbytheRadleyPlace.

"Lookontheporchyonder,"Jemsaid.

IlookedovertotheRadleyPlace,expectingtoseeitsphantomoccupantsunninghimselfintheswing.Theswingwasempty.

"Imeanourporch,"saidJem.

Ilookeddownthestreet.Enarmored,upright,uncompromising,AuntAlexandrawassitting ina rockingchairexactlyas if shehadsatthereeverydayofherlife.

13

"Put my bag in the front bedroom, Calpurnia," was the firstthing Aunt Alexandra said. "Jean Louise, stop scratching yourhead,"wasthesecondthingshesaid.

Calpurnia picked up Aunty's heavy suitcase and opened thedoor."I'lltakeit,"saidJem,andtookit.Iheardthesuitcasehitthe bedroom floor with a thump. The sound had a dullpermanenceaboutit.

"Haveyoucomeforavisit,Aunty?" Iasked.AuntAlexandra'svisits from the Landing were rare, and she traveled in state.SheownedabrightgreensquareBuickandablackchauffeur,bothkeptinanunhealthystateoftidiness,buttodaytheywerenowheretobeseen.

"Didn'tyourfathertellyou?"sheasked.

JemandIshookourheads.

"Probablyheforgot.He'snotinyet,ishe?"

"Nome, he doesn't usually get back till late afternoon," saidJem.

"Well,yourfatherandIdecideditwastimeIcametostaywithyouforawhile."

"For awhile" inMaycombmeant anything from three days tothirtyyears.JemandIexchangedglances.

"Jem'sgrowingupnowandyouaretoo,"shesaidtome."Wedecided that it would be best for you to have some feminineinfluence. It won't be many years, Jean Louise, before you

becomeinterestedinclothesandboys-"

Icouldhavemadeseveralanswerstothis:Cal'sagirl,itwouldbemany years before I would be interested in boys, I wouldneverbeinterestedinclothes...butIkeptquiet.

"WhataboutUncleJimmy?"askedJem."Ishecomin',too?"

"Ohno,he'sstayingattheLanding.He'llkeeptheplacegoing."

ThemomentIsaid,"Won'tyoumisshim?"Irealizedthat thiswasnotatactfulquestion.UncleJimmypresentorUncleJimmyabsentmadenotmuchdifference,heneversaidanything.AuntAlexandraignoredmyquestion.

Icouldthinkofnothingelsetosaytoher.InfactIcouldneverthinkofanythingtosaytoher,andIsatthinkingofpastpainfulconversations between us: How are you, Jean Louise? Fine,thank you ma'am, how are you? Very well, thank you, whathave you been doing with yourself? Nothin'. Don't you doanything?Nome.Certainlyyouhavefriends?Yessum.Wellwhatdoyoualldo?Nothin'.

ItwasplainthatAuntythoughtmedullintheextreme,becauseIonceheardhertellAtticusthatIwassluggish.

Therewasastorybehindallthis,butIhadnodesiretoextractit fromher then. TodaywasSunday, andAuntAlexandrawaspositivelyirritableontheLord'sDay.IguessitwasherSundaycorset. She was not fat, but solid, and she chose protectivegarmentsthatdrewupherbosomtogiddyheights,pinchedinher waist, flared out her rear, and managed to suggest thatAunt Alexandra's was once an hour-glass figure. From anyangle,itwasformidable.

The remainder of the afternoon went by in the gentle gloomthat descends when relatives appear, but was dispelled whenweheardacarturninthedriveway.ItwasAtticus,homefrom

Montgomery. Jem, forgettinghis dignity, ranwithme tomeethim.Jemseizedhisbriefcaseandbag,Ijumpedintohisarms,felthisvaguedrykissandsaid,"'dyoubringmeabook?'dyouknowAunty'shere?"

Atticusansweredbothquestionsintheaffirmative."How'dyoulikeforhertocomelivewithus?"

IsaidIwouldlikeitverymuch,whichwasalie,butonemustlieundercertaincircumstancesandatalltimeswhenonecan'tdoanythingaboutthem.

"We felt it was time you children needed- well, it's like this,Scout,"Atticus said. "Your aunt's doingmea favor aswell asyou all. I can't stay here all daywith you, and the summer'sgoingtobeahotone."

"Yes sir," I said, not understanding a word he said. I had anidea,however, thatAuntAlexandra'sappearanceon thescenewasnot somuchAtticus'sdoingashers.Auntyhadawayofdeclaring What Is Best For The Family, and I suppose hercomingtolivewithuswasinthatcategory.

Maycomb welcomed her. Miss Maudie Atkinson baked a Lanecake so loadedwith shinny itmademe tight;Miss StephanieCrawfordhadlongvisitswithAuntAlexandra,consistingmostlyofMissStephanie shakingherheadandsaying, "Uh,uh,uh."Miss Rachel next door had Aunty over for coffee in theafternoons,andMr.NathanRadleywentsofarastocomeupinthefrontyardandsayhewasgladtoseeher.

When she settled in with us and life resumed its daily pace,AuntAlexandraseemedasifshehadalwayslivedwithus.HerMissionary Society refreshments added to her reputation as ahostess (she did not permit Calpurnia to make the delicaciesrequired to sustain the Society through long reports on RiceChristians);she joinedandbecameSecretaryof theMaycombAmanuensisClub.Toallpartiespresentandparticipatinginthe

life of the county, Aunt Alexandra was one of the last of herkind: she had river-boat, boarding-school manners; let anymoralcomealongandshewouldupholdit;shewasbornintheobjective case; she was an incurable gossip. When AuntAlexandrawenttoschool,self-doubtcouldnotbefoundinanytextbook,sosheknewnot itsmeaning.Shewasneverbored,and given the slightest chance she would exercise her royalprerogative:shewouldarrange,advise,caution,andwarn.

She never let a chance escape her to point out theshortcomingsofothertribalgroupstothegreatergloryofourown,ahabitthatamusedJemratherthanannoyedhim:"Auntybetterwatchhowshetalks-scratchmostfolksinMaycombandthey'rekintous."

Aunt Alexandra, in underlining the moral of young SamMerriweather'ssuicide,saiditwascausedbyamorbidstreakinthe family. Let a sixteen-year-old girl giggle in the choir andAunty would say, "It just goes to show you, all the Penfieldwomen are flighty." Everybody inMaycomb, it seemed, had aStreak:aDrinkingStreak,aGamblingStreak,aMeanStreak,aFunnyStreak.

Once, when Aunty assured us that Miss Stephanie Crawford'stendency to mind other people's business was hereditary,Atticus said, "Sister, when you stop to think about it, ourgeneration'spracticallythefirstintheFinchfamilynottomarryits cousins. Would you say the Finches have an IncestuousStreak?"

Auntysaidno,that'swherewegotoursmallhandsandfeet.

I never understood her preoccupation with heredity.Somewhere,IhadreceivedtheimpressionthatFineFolkswerepeoplewhodidthebesttheycouldwiththesensetheyhad,butAunt Alexandra was of the opinion, obliquely expressed, thatthelongerafamilyhadbeensquattingononepatchoflandthefineritwas.

"ThatmakestheEwellsfinefolks,then,"saidJem.ThetribeofwhichBurrisEwellandhisbrethrenconsistedhad livedonthesameplotofearthbehindtheMaycombdump,andhadthrivedoncountywelfaremoneyforthreegenerations.

Aunt Alexandra's theory had something behind it, though.Maycomb was an ancient town. It was twenty miles east ofFinch's Landing, awkwardly inland for such an old town. ButMaycombwouldhavebeencloser to the riverhad itnotbeenforthenimble-wittednessofoneSinkfield,whointhedawnofhistory operated an inn where two pig-trails met, the onlytavernintheterritory.Sinkfield,nopatriot,servedandsuppliedammunition to Indians and settlers alike, neither knowing orcaringwhether hewas a part of theAlabamaTerritory or theCreek Nation so long as business was good. Business wasexcellent when Governor William Wyatt Bibb, with a view topromoting the newly created county's domestic tranquility,dispatched a teamof surveyors to locate its exact center andthere establish its seat of government. The surveyors,Sinkfield'sguests, told theirhost thathewas in the territorialconfinesofMaycombCounty,andshowedhimtheprobablespotwherethecountyseatwouldbebuilt.HadnotSinkfieldmadeaboldstroketopreservehisholdings,Maycombwouldhavesatin the middle of Winston Swamp, a place totally devoid ofinterest.Instead,Maycombgrewandsprawledoutfromitshub,Sinkfield's Tavern, because Sinkfield reduced his guests tomyopic drunkenness one evening, induced them to bringforward theirmaps and charts, lop off a little here, add a bitthere, and adjust the center of the county to meet hisrequirements.Hesentthempackingnextdayarmedwiththeirchartsandfivequartsofshinnyintheirsaddlebags-twoapieceandonefortheGovernor.

Because its primary reason for existence was government,Maycomb was spared the grubbiness that distinguished mostAlabama towns its size. In the beginning its buildings weresolid, its courthouse proud, its streets graciously wide.

Maycomb'sproportionofprofessionalpeopleranhigh:onewentthere to have his teeth pulled, his wagon fixed, his heartlistened to, his money deposited, his soul saved, his mulesvetted.ButtheultimatewisdomofSinkfield'smaneuverisopentoquestion.Heplaced theyoung town too far away from theonlykindofpublictransportationinthosedays-river-boat-andit took aman from the north end of the county two days totraveltoMaycombforstore-boughtgoods.Asaresultthetownremained the same size for a hundred years, an island in apatchworkseaofcottonfieldsandtimberland.

Although Maycomb was ignored during the War Between theStates,Reconstructionruleandeconomicruin forcedthetowntogrow.Itgrewinward.Newpeoplesorarelysettledthere,thesame familiesmarried thesame familiesuntil themembersofthecommunitylookedfaintlyalike.Occasionallysomeonewouldreturn from Montgomery or Mobile with an outsider, but theresult caused only a ripple in the quiet stream of familyresemblance. Things were more or less the same during myearlyyears.

TherewasindeedacastesysteminMaycomb,buttomyminditworkedthisway:theoldercitizens,thepresentgenerationofpeople who had lived side by side for years and years, wereutterly predictable to one another: they took for grantedattitudes, character shadings, even gestures, as having beenrepeatedineachgenerationandrefinedbytime.ThusthedictaNoCrawfordMindsHisOwnBusiness,EveryThirdMerriweatherIs Morbid, The Truth Is Not in the Delafields, All the BufordsWalkLikeThat,weresimplyguidestodailyliving:nevertakeacheckfromaDelafieldwithoutadiscreetcalltothebank;MissMaudieAtkinson'sshoulderstoopsbecauseshewasaBuford;ifMrs. Grace Merriweather sips gin out of Lydia E. Pinkhambottlesit'snothingunusual-hermotherdidthesame.

Aunt Alexandra fitted into the world of Maycomb like a handintoaglove,butneverintotheworldofJemandme.Isooftenwondered how she could be Atticus's and Uncle Jack's sister

that I revived half-remembered tales of changelings andmandrakerootsthatJemhadspunlongago.

Thesewereabstractspeculationsforthefirstmonthofherstay,asshehadlittletosaytoJemorme,andwesawheronlyatmealtimesandatnightbeforewewenttobed.Itwassummerand we were outdoors. Of course some afternoons when Iwouldruninsideforadrinkofwater,IwouldfindthelivingroomoverrunwithMaycombladies,sipping,whispering,fanning,andIwouldbecalled:"JeanLouise,comespeaktotheseladies."

When I appeared in the doorway, Aunty would look as if sheregrettedher request; Iwasusuallymud-splashedor coveredwithsand.

"SpeaktoyourCousinLily,"shesaidoneafternoon,whenshehadtrappedmeinthehall.

"Who?"Isaid.

"YourCousinLilyBrooke,"saidAuntAlexandra.

"Sheourcousin?Ididn'tknowthat."

Aunt Alexandra managed to smile in a way that conveyed agentleapologytoCousinLilyandfirmdisapprovaltome.WhenCousinLilyBrookeleftIknewIwasinforit.

Itwasasadthingthatmyfatherhadneglectedtotellmeaboutthe Finch Family, or to install any pride into his children. ShesummonedJem,whosatwarilyonthesofabesideme.Sheleftthe room and returned with a purple-covered book on whichMeditationsofJoshuaS.St.Clairwasstampedingold.

"Your cousin wrote this," said Aunt Alexandra. "He was abeautifulcharacter."

Jemexaminedthesmallvolume."IsthistheCousinJoshuawhowaslockedupforsolong?"

AuntAlexandrasaid,"Howdidyouknowthat?"

"Why, Atticus said he went round the bend at the University.Saidhetriedtoshootthepresident.SaidCousinJoshuasaidhewasn't anything but a sewer-inspector and tried to shoot himwith an old flintlock pistol, only it just blew up in his hand.Atticussaiditcostthefamilyfivehundreddollarstogethimoutofthatone-"

AuntAlexandrawas standing stiff as a stork. "That's all," shesaid."We'llseeaboutthis."

Beforebedtime Iwas in Jem's room trying toborrowabook,whenAtticusknockedandentered.HesatonthesideofJem'sbed,lookedatussoberly,thenhegrinned.

"Er-h'rm,"hesaid.Hewasbeginningtoprefacesomethingshesaid with a throaty noise, and I thought he must at last begettingold,buthelookedthesame."Idon'texactlyknowhowtosaythis,"hebegan.

"Well,justsayit,"saidJem."Havewedonesomething?"

Ourfatherwasactuallyfidgeting."No,Ijustwanttoexplaintoyou that- your Aunt Alexandra asked me... son, you knowyou'reaFinch,don'tyou?"

"That'swhat I'vebeentold." Jem lookedoutof thecornersofhis eyes. His voice rose uncontrollably, "Atticus, what's thematter?"

Atticuscrossedhiskneesandfoldedhisarms."I'mtryingtotellyouthefactsoflife."

Jem'sdisgustdeepened."Iknowallthatstuff,"hesaid.

Atticussuddenlygrewserious. Inhis lawyer'svoice,withoutashadeofinflection,hesaid:"YouraunthasaskedmetotryandimpressuponyouandJeanLouisethatyouarenotfromrun-of-

the-millpeople,thatyouaretheproductofseveralgenerations'gentlebreeding-"Atticuspaused,watchingmelocateanelusiveredbugonmyleg.

"Gentle breeding," he continued, when I had found andscratchedit,"andthatyoushouldtrytoliveuptoyourname-"Atticusperseveredinspiteofus:"Sheaskedmetotellyouyoumust try tobehave like the little ladyandgentlemanthatyouare. She wants to talk to you about the family and what it'smeant to Maycomb County through the years, so you'll havesome ideaofwhoyouare,soyoumightbemoved tobehaveaccordingly,"heconcludedatagallop.

Stunned,JemandIlookedateachother,thenatAtticus,whosecollarseemedtoworryhim.Wedidnotspeaktohim.

Presently I picked up a comb from Jem's dresser and ran itsteethalongtheedge.

"Stopthatnoise,"Atticussaid.

His curtness stungme. The combwasmidway in its journey,andIbangeditdown.FornoreasonIfeltmyselfbeginningtocry, but I could not stop. This was not my father. My fatherneverthoughtthesethoughts.Myfatherneverspokeso.AuntAlexandrahadputhimuptothis,somehow.ThroughmytearsIsawJemstandinginasimilarpoolofisolation,hisheadcockedtooneside.

Therewasnowheretogo,butIturnedtogoandmetAtticus'svest front. I buried my head in it and listened to the smallinternal noises that went on behind the light blue cloth: hiswatch ticking, the faint crackle of his starched shirt, the softsoundofhisbreathing.

"Yourstomach'sgrowling,"Isaid.

"Iknowit,"hesaid.

"Youbettertakesomesoda."

"Iwill,"hesaid.

"Atticus, is all this behavin' an' stuff gonna make thingsdifferent?Imeanareyou-?"

Ifelthishandonthebackofmyhead."Don'tyouworryaboutanything,"hesaid."It'snottimetoworry."

WhenIheardthat,Iknewhehadcomebacktous.Thebloodin my legs began to flow again, and I raised my head. "Youreally want us to do all that? I can't remember everythingFinchesaresupposedtodo...."

"Idon'twantyoutorememberit.Forgetit."

He went to the door and out of the room, shutting the doorbehind him. He nearly slammed it, but caught himself at thelastminuteandclosed itsoftly.AsJemandIstared,thedooropened again and Atticus peered around. His eyebrows wereraised, his glasses had slipped. "Getmore like Cousin Joshuaeveryday,don't I?Doyou think I'llendupcosting the familyfivehundreddollars?"

I knownowwhathewas trying todo,butAtticuswasonlyaman.Ittakesawomantodothatkindofwork.

14

Althoughweheardnomoreabout theFinch family fromAuntAlexandra, we heard plenty from the town. On Saturdays,armedwithournickels,whenJempermittedmetoaccompanyhim (he was now positively allergic to my presence when inpublic), we would squirm our way through sweating sidewalkcrowdsandsometimeshear,"There'shischillun,"or,"Yonder'ssomeFinches."Turningtofaceouraccusers,wewouldseeonlya couple of farmers studying the enema bags in the MaycoDrugstorewindow.OrtwodumpycountrywomeninstrawhatssittinginaHoovercart.

"They c'n go loose and rape up the countryside for all of 'emwhorunthiscountycare,"wasoneobscureobservationwemethead on from a skinny gentlemanwhen he passed us.WhichremindedmethatIhadaquestiontoaskAtticus.

"What'srape?"Iaskedhimthatnight.

Atticuslookedaroundfrombehindhispaper.Hewasinhischairbythewindow.Aswegrewolder,JemandIthoughtitgeneroustoallowAtticusthirtyminutestohimselfaftersupper.

Hesighed,andsaidrapewascarnalknowledgeofafemalebyforceandwithoutconsent.

"Wellifthat'sallitiswhydidCalpurniadrymeupwhenIaskedherwhatitwas?"

Atticuslookedpensive."What'sthatagain?"

"Well, I asked Calpurnia comin' from church that day what itwas and she said ask you but I forgot to and now I'm askin'you."

Hispaperwasnowinhislap."Again,please,"hesaid.

I told him in detail about our trip to church with Calpurnia.Atticusseemedtoenjoyit,butAuntAlexandra,whowassittinginacornerquietlysewing,putdownherembroideryandstaredatus.

"You all were coming back from Calpurnia's church thatSunday?"

Jemsaid,"Yessum,shetookus."

I remembered something. "Yessum, and she promised me Icould come out to her house some afternoon. Atticus. I'll gonextSundayifit'sallright,canI?Calsaidshe'dcomegetmeifyouwereoffinthecar."

"Youmaynot."

AuntAlexandrasaidit.Iwheeledaround,startled,thenturnedback toAtticus in time to catch his swift glance at her, but itwastoolate.Isaid,"Ididn'taskyou!"

For a big man, Atticus could get up and down from a chairfasterthananyoneIeverknew.Hewasonhisfeet."Apologizetoyouraunt,"hesaid.

"Ididn'taskher,Iaskedyou-"

Atticusturnedhisheadandpinnedmetothewallwithhisgoodeye.Hisvoicewasdeadly:"First,apologizetoyouraunt."

"I'msorry,Aunty,"Imuttered.

"Nowthen,"hesaid."Let'sgetthisclear:youdoasCalpurniatellsyou,youdoasItellyou,andaslongasyouraunt'sinthishouse,youwilldoasshetellsyou.Understand?"

I understood, pondered a while, and concluded that the only

way I could retire with a shred of dignity was to go to thebathroom,where I stayed long enough tomake them think Ihad to go. Returning, I lingered in the hall to hear a fiercediscussiongoingoninthelivingroom.ThroughthedoorIcouldsee Jem on the sofa with a football magazine in front of hisface, his head turning as if its pages contained a live tennismatch.

"...you've got to do something about her," Aunty was saying."You'veletthingsgoontoolong,Atticus,toolong."

"I don't see any harm in letting her go out there. Cal'd lookafterherthereaswellasshedoeshere."

Whowasthe"her"theyweretalkingabout?Myheartsank:me.Ifeltthestarchedwallsofapinkcottonpenitentiaryclosinginonme,andforthesecondtimeinmylifeIthoughtofrunningaway.Immediately.

"Atticus, it's all right to be soft-hearted, you're an easyman,butyouhaveadaughtertothinkof.Adaughterwho'sgrowingup."

"That'swhatIamthinkingof."

"Anddon'ttrytogetaroundit.You'vegottofaceitsoonerorlateranditmightaswellbetonight.Wedon'tneedhernow."

Atticus's voice was even: "Alexandra, Calpurnia's not leavingthis houseuntil shewants to. Youmay thinkotherwise, but Icouldn't have got along without her all these years. She's afaithfulmemberofthisfamilyandyou'llsimplyhavetoacceptthings the way they are. Besides, sister, I don't want youworkingyourheadoffforus-you'venoreasontodothat.WestillneedCalasmuchasweeverdid."

"ButAtticus-"

"Besides,Idon'tthinkthechildren'vesufferedonebitfromher

having brought them up. If anything, she's been harder onthem in some ways than a mother would have been... she'snever let them get away with anything, she's never indulgedthemthewaymostcolorednursesdo.Shetriedtobringthemupaccordingtoherlights,andCal'slightsareprettygood-andanotherthing,thechildrenloveher."

Ibreathedagain.Itwasn'tme,itwasonlyCalpurniatheyweretalking about. Revived, I entered the livingroom. Atticus hadretreated behind his newspaper and Aunt Alexandra wasworryingher embroidery. Punk, punk, punk, her needle brokethetautcircle.Shestopped,andpulledtheclothtighter:punk-punk-punk.Shewasfurious.

Jem got up and padded across the rug. He motioned me tofollow.Heledmetohisroomandclosedthedoor.Hisfacewasgrave.

"They'vebeenfussing,Scout."

Jem and I fussed a great deal these days, but I had neverheard of or seen anyone quarrel with Atticus. It was not acomfortablesight.

"Scout,trynottoantagonizeAunty,hear?"

Atticus's remarkswerestill rankling,whichmadememiss therequestinJem'squestion.Myfeathersroseagain."Youtryin'totellmewhattodo?"

"Naw,it's-he'sgotalotonhismindnow,withoutusworryinghim."

"Likewhat?" Atticus didn't appear to have anything especiallyonhismind.

"It'sthisTomRobinsoncasethat'sworryin'himtodeath-"

I said Atticus didn't worry about anything. Besides, the case

neverbotheredusexceptaboutonceaweekandthenitdidn'tlast.

"That's because you can't hold something in yourmind but alittlewhile,"saidJem."It'sdifferentwithgrownfolks,we-"

Hismaddeningsuperioritywasunbearablethesedays.Hedidn'twant to do anything but read and go off by himself. Still,everything he read he passed along to me, but with thisdifference:formerly,becausehethoughtI'dlikeit;now,formyedificationandinstruction.

"Jeecrawlinghova,Jem!Whodoyouthinkyouare?"

"NowImeanit,Scout,youantagonizeAuntyandI'll-I'llspankyou."

Withthat,Iwasgone."Youdamnmorphodite,I'llkillyou!"Hewas sittingon thebed, and itwaseasy tograbhis fronthairandlandoneonhismouth.HeslappedmeandItriedanotherleft,butapunchinthestomachsentmesprawlingonthefloor.It nearly knocked the breath out of me, but it didn't matterbecauseIknewhewas fighting,hewas fightingmeback.Wewerestillequals.

"Ain'tsohighandmightynow,areyou!"Iscreamed,sailinginagain.HewasstillonthebedandIcouldn'tgetafirmstance,so I threwmyself at him as hard as I could, hitting, pulling,pinching, gouging. What had begun as a fist-fight became abrawl.WewerestillstrugglingwhenAtticusseparatedus.

"That'sall,"hesaid."Bothofyougotobedrightnow."

"Taah!"IsaidatJem.Hewasbeingsenttobedatmybedtime.

"Whostartedit?"askedAtticus,inresignation.

"Jemdid.Hewas tryin' to tellmewhat todo. Idon'thave tomindhimnow,doI?"

Atticussmiled. "Let's leave itat this:youmindJemwheneverhecanmakeyou.Fairenough?"

Aunt Alexandra was present but silent, and when she wentdownthehallwithAtticusweheardhersay,"...justoneofthethings I've been telling you about," a phrase that united usagain.

Ourswereadjoining rooms;as I shut thedoorbetween themJemsaid,"Night,Scout."

"Night," Imurmured,pickingmywayacross the roomto turnonthelight.AsIpassedthebedIsteppedonsomethingwarm,resilient,andrathersmooth.Itwasnotquite likehardrubber,andIhadthesensationthatitwasalive.Ialsohearditmove.

I switched on the light and looked at the floor by the bed.WhateverIhadsteppedonwasgone.ItappedonJem'sdoor.

"What,"hesaid.

"Howdoesasnakefeel?"

"Sortofrough.Cold.Dusty.Why?"

"Ithinkthere'soneundermybed.Canyoucomelook?"

"Are you bein' funny?" Jem opened the door. He was in hispajama bottoms. I noticed not without satisfaction that themark ofmy knuckles was still on hismouth.When he saw ImeantwhatIsaid,hesaid,"IfyouthinkI'mgonnaputmyfacedown to a snake you've got another think comin'. Hold on aminute."

Hewenttothekitchenandfetchedthebroom."Youbettergetuponthebed,"hesaid.

"Youreckonit'sreallyone?"Iasked.Thiswasanoccasion.Ourhouses had no cellars; theywere built on stone blocks a few

feet above the ground, and the entry of reptiles was notunknown but was not commonplace. Miss Rachel Haverford'sexcuseforaglassofneatwhiskeyeverymorningwasthatshenever got over the fright of finding a rattler coiled in herbedroomcloset,onherwashing,whenshewenttohanguphernegligee.

Jemmadea tentative swipeunder thebed. I lookedover thefoottosee ifasnakewouldcomeout.Nonedid.Jemmadeadeeperswipe.

"Dosnakesgrunt?"

"Itain'tasnake,"Jemsaid."It'ssomebody."

Suddenlyafilthybrownpackageshotfromunderthebed.Jemraised the broom and missed Dill's head by an inch when itappeared.

"GodAlmighty."Jem'svoicewasreverent.

We watched Dill emerge by degrees. He was a tight fit. Hestoodupandeasedhisshoulders,turnedhisfeetintheiranklesockets, rubbed thebackof hisneck.His circulation restored,hesaid,"Hey."

JempetitionedGodagain.Iwasspeechless.

"I'm'bouttoperish,"saidDill."Gotanythingtoeat?"

In a dream, I went to the kitchen. I brought him back somemilk and half a pan of corn bread left over from supper. Dilldevouredit,chewingwithhisfrontteeth,aswashiscustom.

Ifinallyfoundmyvoice."How'dyougethere?"

By an involved route. Refreshed by food, Dill recited thisnarrative: having been bound in chains and left to die in thebasement (there were basements in Meridian) by his new

father, who disliked him, and secretly kept alive on raw fieldpeasbyapassingfarmerwhoheardhiscriesforhelp(thegoodman poked a bushel pod by pod through the ventilator), Dillworkedhimselffreebypullingthechainsfromthewall.Stillinwristmanacles,hewandered twomilesoutofMeridianwherehe discovered a small animal show and was immediatelyengagedtowashthecamel.HetraveledwiththeshowalloverMississippiuntilhisinfalliblesenseofdirectiontoldhimhewasinAbbottCounty,Alabama,justacrosstheriverfromMaycomb.Hewalkedtherestoftheway.

"How'dyougethere?"askedJem.

Hehad taken thirteendollars fromhismother'spurse,caughtthenineo'clockfromMeridianandgotoffatMaycombJunction.HehadwalkedtenorelevenofthefourteenmilestoMaycomb,off the highway in the scrub bushes lest the authorities beseekinghim,andhadriddentheremainderofthewayclingingtothebackboardofacottonwagon.Hehadbeenunderthebedfortwohours,hethought;hehadheardusinthediningroom,and the clink of forks on plates nearly drove him crazy. Hethought Jemand Iwouldnevergo tobed;hehadconsideredemerging and helping me beat Jem, as Jem had grown fartaller, but he knew Mr. Finch would break it up soon, so hethought it best to staywherehewas.Hewaswornout,dirtybeyondbelief,andhome.

"They must not know you're here," said Jem. "We'd know iftheywerelookin'foryou...."

"Thinkthey'restillsearchin'all thepictureshows inMeridian."Dillgrinned.

"Yououghtaletyourmotherknowwhereyouare,"saidJem."Yououghtaletherknowyou'rehere...."

Dill'seyesflickeredatJem,andJemlookedatthefloor.Thenheroseandbroke the remaining codeof our childhood.Hewent

out of the room and down the hall. "Atticus," his voice wasdistant,"canyoucomehereaminute,sir?"

Beneath its sweat-streaked dirt Dill's face went white. I feltsick.Atticuswasinthedoorway.

Hecametothemiddleoftheroomandstoodwithhishandsinhispockets,lookingdownatDill.

Ifinallyfoundmyvoice:"It'sokay,Dill.Whenhewantsyoutoknowsomethin',hetellsyou."

Dill lookedatme."Imean it'sall right," Isaid. "Youknowhewouldn'tbotheryou,youknowyouain'tscaredofAtticus."

"I'mnotscared..."Dillmuttered.

"Just hungry, I'll bet." Atticus's voice had its usual pleasantdryness. "Scout, we can do better than a pan of cold cornbread,can'twe?YoufillthisfellowupandwhenIgetbackwe'llseewhatwecansee."

"Mr. Finch, don't tell Aunt Rachel, don't make me go back,pleasesir!I'llrunoffagain-!"

"Whoa, son," said Atticus. "Nobody's about to make you goanywhere but to bed pretty soon. I'm just going over to tellMiss Rachel you're here and ask her if you could spend thenightwithus-you'dlikethat,wouldn'tyou?Andforgoodness'sake put some of the county back where it belongs, the soilerosion'sbadenoughasitis."

Dillstaredatmyfather'sretreatingfigure.

"He's tryin' to be funny," I said. "Hemeans take a bath. Seethere,Itoldyouhewouldn'tbotheryou."

Jem was standing in a corner of the room, looking like thetraitorhewas."Dill,Ihadtotellhim,"hesaid."Youcan'trun

threehundredmilesoffwithoutyourmotherknowin'."

Welefthimwithoutaword.

Dillate,andate,andate.Hehadn'teatensincelastnight.Heused all his money for a ticket, boarded the train as he haddonemany times, coolly chattedwith the conductor, towhomDillwasafamiliarsight,buthehadnotthenervetoinvoketherule on small children traveling a distance alone if you've lostyourmoneytheconductorwill lendyouenoughfordinnerandyourfatherwillpayhimbackattheendoftheline.

DillmadehiswaythroughtheleftoversandwasreachingforacanofporkandbeansinthepantrywhenMissRachel'sDo-ooJe-suswentoffinthehall.Heshiveredlikearabbit.

HeborewithfortitudeherWaitTillIGetYouHome,YourFolksAreOutofTheirMindsWorryin',wasquite calmduringThat'sAlltheHarrisinYouComingOut,smiledatherReckonYouCanStay One Night, and returned the hug at long last bestoweduponhim.

Atticuspusheduphisglassesandrubbedhisface.

"Your father's tired," said Aunt Alexandra, her first words inhours, it seemed. She had been there, but I suppose struckdumbmostofthetime."Youchildrengettobednow."

We left them in thediningroom,Atticusstillmoppinghis face."From rape to riot to runaways," we heard him chuckle. "Iwonderwhatthenexttwohourswillbring."

Sincethingsappearedtohaveworkedoutprettywell,DillandIdecidedtobeciviltoJem.Besides,Dillhadtosleepwithhimsowemightaswellspeaktohim.

I put on my pajamas, read for a while and found myselfsuddenly unable to keep my eyes open. Dill and Jem werequiet;whenIturnedoffmyreadinglamptherewasnostripof

lightunderthedoortoJem'sroom.

Imusthaveslepta longtime,forwhenIwaspunchedawaketheroomwasdimwiththelightofthesettingmoon.

"Moveover,Scout."

"Hethoughthehadto,"Imumbled."Don'tstaymadwithhim."

Dill got inbedbesideme. "Iain't,"hesaid. "I justwanted tosleepwithyou.Areyouwakedup?"

BythistimeIwas,butlazilyso."Why'dyoudoit?"

Noanswer."Isaidwhy'dyourunoff?Washereallyhatefullikeyousaid?"

"Naw..."

"Didn'tyouallbuildthatboatlikeyouwroteyouweregonna?"

"Hejustsaidwewould.Weneverdid."

Iraiseduponmyelbow,facingDill'soutline."It'snoreasontorun off. They don't get around to doin'what they say they'regonnadohalfthetime...."

"Thatwasn'tit,he-theyjustwasn'tinterestedinme."

ThiswastheweirdestreasonforflightIhadeverheard."Howcome?"

"Well,theystayedgoneallthetime,andwhentheywerehome,even,they'dgetoffinaroombythemselves."

"What'dtheydointhere?"

"Nothin', just sittin'and readin'-but theydidn'twantmewith'em."

I pushed the pillow to the headboard and sat up. "You knowsomething?Iwasfixin'torunofftonightbecausetheretheyallwere.Youdon'twant'emaroundyouallthetime,Dill-"

Dillbreathedhispatientbreath,ahalf-sigh.

"-good night, Atticus's gone all day and sometimes half thenightandoffinthelegislatureandIdon'tknowwhat-youdon'twant 'emaroundall the time,Dill,youcouldn'tdoanything iftheywere."

"That'snotit."

AsDillexplained,IfoundmyselfwonderingwhatlifewouldbeifJemweredifferent,evenfromwhathewasnow;whatIwoulddoifAtticusdidnotfeelthenecessityofmypresence,helpandadvice. Why, he couldn't get along a day without me. EvenCalpurnia couldn't get along unless Iwas there. They neededme.

"Dill, youain't tellingme right- your folks couldn't dowithoutyou.Theymustbejustmeantoyou.Tellyouwhattodoaboutthat-"

Dill'svoicewentonsteadilyinthedarkness:"Thethingis,whatI'm tryin' to say is- theydogetona lotbetterwithoutme, Ican'thelpthemany.Theyain'tmean.TheybuymeeverythingIwant, but it's now-you've-got-it-go-play-with-it. You've got aroomfulof things.I-got-you-that-book-so-go-read-it."Dill triedtodeepenhisvoice. "You'renotaboy.Boysgetoutandplaybaseball with other boys, they don't hang around the houseworryin'theirfolks."

Dill'svoicewashisownagain:"Oh,theyain'tmean.Theykissyou and hug you good night and goodmornin' and good-byeandtellyoutheyloveyou-Scout,let'sgetusababy."

"Where?"

There was a man Dill had heard of who had a boat that herowedacrosstoafoggyislandwhereallthesebabieswere;youcouldorderone-

"That'sa lie.AuntysaidGoddrops 'emdown thechimney.Atleastthat'swhatIthinkshesaid."Foronce,Aunty'sdictionhadnotbeentooclear.

"Wellthatain'tso.Yougetbabiesfromeachother.Butthere'sthisman,too-hehasall thesebabiesjustwaitin'towakeup,hebreatheslifeinto'em...."

Dillwasoffagain.Beautifulthingsfloatedaroundinhisdreamyhead.Hecouldreadtwobookstomyone,buthepreferredthemagicofhisown inventions.Hecouldaddandsubtract fasterthanlightning,buthepreferredhisowntwilightworld,aworldwherebabies slept,waiting to begathered likemorning lilies.Hewasslowlytalkinghimselftosleepandtakingmewithhim,but in the quietness of his foggy island there rose the fadedimageofagrayhousewithsadbrowndoors.

"Dill?"

"Mm?"

"WhydoyoureckonBooRadley'sneverrunoff?"

Dillsighedalongsighandturnedawayfromme.

"Maybehedoesn'thaveanywheretorunoffto...."

15

After many telephone calls, much pleading on behalf of thedefendant, and a long forgiving letter fromhismother, itwasdecidedthatDillcouldstay.Wehadaweekofpeacetogether.Afterthat,little,itseemed.Anightmarewasuponus.

It began one evening after supper. Dill was over; AuntAlexandrawasinherchairinthecorner,Atticuswasinhis;Jemand Iwereon the floor reading. Ithadbeenaplacidweek: Ihad minded Aunty; Jem had outgrown the treehouse, buthelpedDillandmeconstructanewropeladderfor it;Dillhadhitupona foolproofplan tomakeBooRadleycomeoutatnocost to ourselves (place a trail of lemon drops from the backdoortothefrontyardandhe'dfollowit,likeanant).Therewasaknockonthefrontdoor,JemanswereditandsaiditwasMr.HeckTate.

"Well,askhimtocomein,"saidAtticus.

"Ialreadydid.There'ssomemenoutsideintheyard,theywantyoutocomeout."

InMaycomb,grownmenstoodoutsideinthefrontyardforonlytworeasons:deathandpolitics.Iwonderedwhohaddied.JemandIwenttothefrontdoor,butAtticuscalled,"Gobackinthehouse."

Jemturnedoutthelivingroomlightsandpressedhisnosetoawindow screen. Aunt Alexandra protested. "Just for a second,Aunty,let'sseewhoitis,"hesaid.

Dilland I tookanotherwindow.AcrowdofmenwasstandingaroundAtticus.Theyallseemedtobetalkingatonce.

"...movin' him to the county jail tomorrow," Mr. Tate wassaying,"Idon'tlookforanytrouble,butIcan'tguaranteetherewon'tbeany...."

"Don'tbefoolish,Heck,"Atticussaid."ThisisMaycomb."

"...saidIwasjustuneasy."

"Heck, we've gotten one postponement of this case just tomake sure there's nothing to be uneasy about. This isSaturday," Atticus said. "Trial'll probably be Monday. You cankeep him one night, can't you? I don't think anybody inMaycomb'llbegrudgemeaclient,withtimesthishard."

TherewasamurmurofgleethatdiedsuddenlywhenMr.LinkDeassaid,"Nobodyaroundhere'suptoanything, it'sthatOldSarumbunch I'mworriedabout... can't youget a-what is it,Heck?"

"Changeofvenue,"saidMr.Tate."Notmuchpointinthat,nowisit?"

Atticus said something inaudible. I turned to Jem,whowavedmetosilence.

"-besides,"Atticuswassaying,"you'renotscaredofthatcrowd,areyou?"

"...knowhowtheydowhentheygetshinniedup."

"Theydon'tusuallydrinkonSunday,theygotochurchmostoftheday..."Atticussaid.

"Thisisaspecialoccasion,though..."someonesaid.

TheymurmuredandbuzzeduntilAuntysaid ifJemdidn'tturnon the livingroom lights he would disgrace the family. Jemdidn'thearher.

"-don'tseewhyyoutoucheditinthefirstplace,"Mr.LinkDeaswassaying."You'vegoteverythingtolosefromthis,Atticus.Imeaneverything."

"Doyoureallythinkso?"

ThiswasAtticus'sdangerousquestion."Doyoureallythinkyouwant to move there, Scout?" Bam, bam, bam, and thecheckerboardwassweptcleanofmymen."Doyoureallythinkthat, son?Then read this." Jemwould struggle the rest of aneveningthroughthespeechesofHenryW.Grady.

"Link,thatboymightgotothechair,buthe'snotgoingtillthetruth'stold."Atticus'svoicewaseven."Andyouknowwhatthetruthis."

There was a murmur among the group of men, made moreominouswhenAtticusmovedbacktothebottomfrontstepandthemendrewnearertohim.

SuddenlyJemscreamed,"Atticus,thetelephone'sringing!"

Themen jumped a little and scattered; they were people wesaweveryday:merchants, in-townfarmers;Dr.Reynoldswasthere;sowasMr.Avery.

"Well,answerit,son,"calledAtticus.

Laughter broke them up. When Atticus switched on theoverhead light in the livingroomhe found Jemat thewindow,paleexceptforthevividmarkofthescreenonhisnose.

"Whyonearthareyouallsittinginthedark?"heasked.

Jemwatchedhimgotohischairandpickuptheeveningpaper.I sometimes think Atticus subjected every crisis of his life totranquilevaluationbehindTheMobileRegister,TheBirminghamNewsandTheMontgomeryAdvertiser.

"Theywereafter you,weren't they?" Jemwent tohim. "Theywantedtogetyou,didn'tthey?"

Atticus lowered the paper and gazed at Jem. "What have youbeen reading?"heasked.Thenhesaidgently, "Noson, thosewereourfriends."

"Itwasn'ta-agang?"Jemwaslookingfromthecornersofhiseyes.

Atticus tried tostifleasmilebutdidn'tmake it. "No,wedon'thavemobsandthatnonsenseinMaycomb.I'veneverheardofaganginMaycomb."

"KuKluxgotaftersomeCatholicsonetime."

"NeverheardofanyCatholicsinMaycombeither,"saidAtticus,"you're confusing that with something else. Way back aboutnineteen-twenty there was a Klan, but it was a politicalorganization more than anything. Besides, they couldn't findanybodytoscare.TheyparadedbyMr.SamLevy'shouseonenight,butSamjuststoodonhisporchandtold'emthingshadcome toaprettypass,he'dsold 'em theverysheetson theirbacks. Sam made 'em so ashamed of themselves they wentaway."

The Levy familymet all criteria for being Fine Folks: they didthebesttheycouldwiththesensetheyhad,andtheyhadbeenliving on the same plot of ground in Maycomb for fivegenerations.

"TheKuKlux'sgone,"saidAtticus."It'llnevercomeback."

IwalkedhomewithDillandreturnedintimetooverhearAtticussaying toAunty, "...in favorofSouthernwomanhoodasmuchasanybody,butnotforpreservingpolitefictionattheexpenseof human life," a pronouncement thatmademe suspect theyhadbeenfussingagain.

I sought Jemand foundhim in his room, on thebeddeep inthought."Havetheybeenatit?"Iasked.

"Sort of. She won't let him alone about Tom Robinson. Shealmost said Atticus was disgracin' the family. Scout... I'mscared."

"Scared'awhat?"

"Scared about Atticus. Somebody might hurt him." Jempreferred to remain mysterious; all he would say to myquestionswasgoonandleavehimalone.

Next daywasSunday. In the interval betweenSundaySchooland Church when the congregation stretched its legs, I sawAtticusstandingintheyardwithanotherknotofmen.Mr.HeckTatewaspresent,andIwonderedifhehadseenthelight.Henever went to church. Even Mr. Underwood was there. Mr.Underwoodhadnouse foranyorganizationbutTheMaycombTribune,ofwhichhewasthesoleowner,editor,andprinter.Hisdays were spent at his linotype, where he refreshed himselfoccasionallyfromanever-presentgallonjugofcherrywine.Herarelygatherednews;peoplebroughtittohim.Itwassaidthathemade up every edition of TheMaycomb Tribune out of hisown head and wrote it down on the linotype. This wasbelievable. Something must have been up to haul Mr.Underwoodout.

I caught Atticus coming in the door, and he said that they'dmovedTomRobinsontotheMaycombjail.Healsosaid,moretohimself than tome, that if they'd kept him there in the firstplacetherewouldn'thavebeenanyfuss.Iwatchedhimtakehisseatonthethirdrowfromthefront,andIheardhimrumble,"NearermyGodtothee,"somenotesbehindtherestofus.HeneversatwithAunty,Jemandme.Helikedtobebyhimselfinchurch.

The fake peace that prevailed on Sundays was made more

irritatingbyAuntAlexandra'spresence.Atticuswouldfleetohisofficedirectlyafterdinner,whereifwesometimeslookedinonhim,wewouldfindhimsittingbackinhisswivelchairreading.AuntAlexandracomposedherselfforatwo-hournapanddaredus to make any noise in the yard, the neighborhood wasresting.Jeminhisoldagehadtakentohisroomwithastackoffootballmagazines. So Dill and I spent our Sundays creepingaroundinDeer'sPasture.

ShootingonSundayswasprohibited,soDillandIkickedJem'sfootballaroundthepasture forawhile,whichwasno fun.Dillasked if I'd like to have a poke at BooRadley. I said I didn'tthink it'd be nice to bother him, and spent the rest of theafternoon filling Dill in on last winter's events. He wasconsiderablyimpressed.

Wepartedat suppertime, andafter ourmeal Jemand Iweresettlingdowntoaroutineevening,whenAtticusdidsomethingthatinterestedus:hecameintothelivingroomcarryingalongelectricalextensioncord.Therewasalightbulbontheend.

"I'mgoingoutforawhile,"hesaid."Youfolks'llbeinbedwhenIcomeback,soI'llsaygoodnightnow."

Withthat,heputhishatonandwentoutthebackdoor.

"He'stakin'thecar,"saidJem.

Our father had a few peculiarities: one was, he never atedesserts; anotherwas that he liked towalk. As far back as Icould remember, there was always a Chevrolet in excellentcondition in thecarhouse,andAtticusputmanymileson it inbusinesstrips,butinMaycombhewalkedtoandfromhisofficefour times a day, covering about twomiles. He said his onlyexercisewaswalking.InMaycomb,ifonewentforawalkwithnodefinitepurposeinmind,itwascorrecttobelieveone'smindincapableofdefinitepurpose.

Lateron,IbademyauntandbrothergoodnightandwaswellintoabookwhenIheardJemrattlingaroundinhisroom.Hisgo-to-bednoisesweresofamiliartomethatIknockedonhisdoor:"Whyain'tyougoingtobed?"

"I'mgoin'downtownforawhile."Hewaschanginghispants.

"Why?It'salmostteno'clock,Jem."

Heknewit,buthewasgoinganyway.

"Then I'm goin' with you. If you say no you're not, I'm goin'anyway,hear?"

Jemsawthathewouldhavetofightmetokeepmehome,andI suppose he thought a fight would antagonize Aunty, so hegaveinwithlittlegrace.

I dressedquickly.Wewaiteduntil Aunty's lightwent out, andwe walked quietly down the back steps. There was no moontonight.

"Dill'llwantacome,"Iwhispered.

"Sohewill,"saidJemgloomily.

We leaped over the driveway wall, cut through Miss Rachel'sside yard andwent to Dill's window. Jemwhistled bob-white.Dill's face appeared at the screen, disappeared, and fiveminutes laterheunhookedthescreenandcrawledout.Anoldcampaigner, he did not speak until we were on the sidewalk."What'sup?"

"Jem's got the look-arounds," an affliction Calpurnia said allboyscaughtathisage.

"I'vejustgotthisfeeling,"Jemsaid,"justthisfeeling."

We went by Mrs. Dubose's house, standing empty and

shuttered,hercamelliasgrownupinweedsandjohnsongrass.Therewereeightmorehousestothepostofficecorner.

The south side of the square was deserted. Giant monkey-puzzle bushes bristled on each corner, and between them anironhitchingrailglistenedunderthestreetlights.Alightshoneinthecountytoilet,otherwisethatsideof thecourthousewasdark. A larger square of stores surrounded the courthousesquare;dimlightsburnedfromdeepwithinthem.

Atticus's office was in the courthouse when he began his lawpractice, but after several years of it he moved to quieterquarters intheMaycombBankbuilding.Whenweroundedthecorner of the square, we saw the car parked in front of thebank."He'sinthere,"saidJem.

Buthewasn't.Hisofficewasreachedbyalonghallway.Lookingdownthehall,weshouldhaveseenAtticusFinch,Attorney-at-Lawinsmallsoberlettersagainstthelightfrombehindhisdoor.Itwasdark.

Jempeeredinthebankdoortomakesure.Heturnedtheknob.Thedoorwaslocked."Let'sgoupthestreet.Maybehe'svisitin'Mr.Underwood."

Mr. Underwood not only ran The Maycomb Tribune office, helived in it. That is, above it. He covered the courthouse andjailhousenewssimplyby lookingouthisupstairswindow.Theofficebuildingwasonthenorthwestcornerofthesquare,andtoreachitwehadtopassthejail.

TheMaycomb jailwas themost venerable andhideousof thecounty's buildings. Atticus said it was like something CousinJoshua St. Clair might have designed. It was certainlysomeone's dream. Starkly out of place in a town of square-facedstoresandsteep-roofedhouses,theMaycombjailwasaminiatureGothicjokeonecellwideandtwocellshigh,completewith tiny battlements and flying buttresses. Its fantasy was

heightenedbyitsredbrickfacadeandthethicksteelbarsatitsecclesiastical windows. It stood on no lonely hill, but waswedged between Tyndal's Hardware Store and The MaycombTribuneoffice.ThejailwasMaycomb'sonlyconversationpiece:itsdetractorssaiditlookedlikeaVictorianprivy;itssupporterssaid it gave the town a good solid respectable look, and nostrangerwouldeversuspectthatitwasfullofniggers.

Aswewalkedupthesidewalk,wesawasolitarylightburninginthe distance. "That's funny," said Jem, "jail doesn't have anoutsidelight."

"Lookslikeit'soverthedoor,"saidDill.

A long extension cord ran between the bars of a second-floorwindowanddownthesideofthebuilding.Inthelightfromitsbarebulb,Atticuswassittingproppedagainstthefrontdoor.Hewas sitting in one of his office chairs, and he was reading,obliviousofthenightbugsdancingoverhishead.

Imadetorun,butJemcaughtme."Don'tgotohim,"hesaid,"hemightnotlikeit.He'sallright,let'sgohome.Ijustwantedtoseewherehewas."

Weweretakingashortcutacrossthesquarewhenfourdustycars came in from the Meridian highway, moving slowly in aline. Theywent around the square, passed the bank building,andstoppedinfrontofthejail.

Nobodygotout.WesawAtticuslookupfromhisnewspaper.Heclosedit,foldeditdeliberately,droppeditinhislap,andpushedhis hat to the back of his head. He seemed to be expectingthem.

"Come on," whispered Jem. We streaked across the square,across the street, until we were in the shelter of the JitneyJungledoor.Jempeekedupthesidewalk."Wecangetcloser,"hesaid.WerantoTyndal'sHardwaredoor-nearenough,atthe

sametimediscreet.

In ones and twos,mengot out of the cars. Shadowsbecamesubstanceaslightsrevealedsolidshapesmovingtowardthejaildoor. Atticus remained where he was. Themen hid him fromview.

"Heinthere,Mr.Finch?"amansaid.

"Heis,"weheardAtticusanswer,"andhe'sasleep.Don'twakehimup."

Inobediencetomyfather, therefollowedwhatI laterrealizedwas a sickeningly comic aspect of an unfunny situation: thementalkedinnear-whispers.

"Youknowwhatwewant,"anothermansaid. "Getaside fromthedoor,Mr.Finch."

"Youcanturnaroundandgohomeagain,Walter,"Atticussaidpleasantly."HeckTate'saroundsomewhere."

"Thehellheis,"saidanotherman."Heck'sbunch'ssodeepinthewoodstheywon'tgetouttillmornin'."

"Indeed?Whyso?"

"Called 'em off on a snipe hunt," was the succinct answer."Didn'tyouthinka'that,Mr.Finch?"

"Thoughtaboutit,butdidn'tbelieveit.Wellthen,"myfather'svoicewasstillthesame,"thatchangesthings,doesn'tit?"

"Itdo,"anotherdeepvoicesaid.Itsownerwasashadow.

"Doyoureallythinkso?"

Thiswas the second time IheardAtticusask thatquestion intwo days, and it meant somebody's man would get jumped.

Thiswastoogoodtomiss.IbrokeawayfromJemandranasfastasIcouldtoAtticus.

Jem shrieked and tried to catchme, but I had a lead onhimandDill.Ipushedmywaythroughdarksmellybodiesandburstintothecircleoflight.

"H-ey,Atticus!"

Ithoughthewouldhaveafinesurprise,buthisfacekilledmyjoy.Aflashofplainfearwasgoingoutofhiseyes,butreturnedwhenDillandJemwriggledintothelight.

Therewasasmellofstalewhiskeyandpigpenabout,andwhenIglancedaround Idiscovered that thesemenwerestrangers.TheywerenotthepeopleIsawlastnight.Hotembarrassmentshot through me: I had leaped triumphantly into a ring ofpeopleIhadneverseenbefore.

Atticusgotupfromhischair,buthewasmovingslowly,likeanoldman.Heput thenewspaperdownverycarefully,adjustingitscreaseswithlingeringfingers.Theyweretremblingalittle.

"Gohome,Jem,"hesaid."TakeScoutandDillhome."

We were accustomed to prompt, if not always cheerfulacquiescence to Atticus's instructions, but from the way hestoodJemwasnotthinkingofbudging.

"Gohome,Isaid."

Jemshookhishead.AsAtticus's fistswent tohiships,sodidJem's, and as they faced each other I could see littleresemblancebetweenthem:Jem'ssoftbrownhairandeyes,hisoval faceand snug-fittingearswereourmother's, contrastingoddlywithAtticus'sgrayingblackhairandsquare-cutfeatures,but they were somehow alike. Mutual defiance made themalike.

"Son,Isaidgohome."

Jemshookhishead.

"I'll send him home," a burly man said, and grabbed Jemroughlybythecollar.HeyankedJemnearlyoffhisfeet.

"Don'tyoutouchhim!" Ikickedthemanswiftly.Barefooted, Iwas surprised to see him fall back in real pain. I intended tokickhisshin,butaimedtoohigh.

"That'lldo,Scout."Atticusputhishandonmyshoulder."Don'tkickfolks.No-"hesaid,asIwaspleadingjustification.

"Ain'tnobodygonnadoJemthatway,"Isaid.

"Allright,Mr.Finch,get'emoutahere,"someonegrowled."Yougotfifteensecondstoget'emoutahere."

In themidst of this strange assembly, Atticus stood trying tomakeJemmindhim."Iain'tgoing,"washissteadyanswertoAtticus'sthreats,requests,andfinally,"PleaseJem,takethemhome."

I was getting a bit tired of that, but felt Jem had his ownreasons for doing as he did, in view of his prospects onceAtticusdidgethimhome.Ilookedaroundthecrowd.Itwasasummer's night, but themenwere dressed,most of them, inoverallsanddenimshirtsbuttoneduptothecollars.Ithoughttheymustbecold-natured,as theirsleeveswereunrolledandbuttonedatthecuffs.Someworehatspulledfirmlydownovertheir ears. They were sullen-looking, sleepy-eyed men whoseemedunusedtolatehours.Isoughtoncemoreforafamiliarface,andatthecenterofthesemi-circleIfoundone.

"Hey,Mr.Cunningham."

Themandidnothearme,itseemed.

"Hey,Mr.Cunningham.How'syourentailmentgettin'along?"

Mr.WalterCunningham's legalaffairswerewell known tome;Atticushadoncedescribedthematlength.Thebigmanblinkedand hooked his thumbs in his overall straps. He seemeduncomfortable; he cleared his throat and looked away. Myfriendlyoverturehadfallenflat.

Mr.Cunninghamworenohat,andthetophalfofhis foreheadwaswhiteincontrasttohissunscorchedface,whichledmetobelievethatheworeonemostdays.Heshiftedhisfeet,cladinheavyworkshoes.

"Don't you remember me, Mr. Cunningham? I'm Jean LouiseFinch.Youbroughtussomehickorynutsonetime,remember?"Ibegantosensethefutilityonefeelswhenunacknowledgedbyachanceacquaintance.

"IgotoschoolwithWalter,"Ibeganagain."He'syourboy,ain'the?Ain'the,sir?"

Mr. Cunninghamwasmoved to a faint nod. He did knowme,afterall.

"He'sinmygrade,"Isaid,"andhedoesrightwell.He'sagoodboy,"Iadded,"arealniceboy.Webroughthimhomefordinneronetime.Maybehetoldyouaboutme,Ibeathimuponetimebuthewasrealniceaboutit.Tellhimheyforme,won'tyou?"

Atticushadsaid itwasthepolitethingtotalktopeopleaboutwhat they were interested in, not about what you wereinterestedin.Mr.Cunninghamdisplayednointerest inhisson,so I tackledhis entailment oncemore in a last-ditch effort tomakehimfeelathome

.

"Entailmentsarebad,"Iwasadvisinghim,whenIslowlyawoketo the fact that I was addressing the entire aggregation. The

menwerealllookingatme,somehadtheirmouthshalf-open.AtticushadstoppedpokingatJem:theywerestandingtogetherbeside Dill. Their attention amounted to fascination. Atticus'smouth,even,washalf-open,anattitudehehadoncedescribedasuncouth.Oureyesmetandheshutit.

"Well, Atticus, I was just sayin' to Mr. Cunningham thatentailments are bad an' all that, but you said not toworry, ittakes a long time sometimes... that you all'd ride it outtogether..."Iwasslowlydryingup,wonderingwhatidiocyIhadcommitted.Entailmentsseemedallrightenoughforlivingroomtalk.

Ibegantofeelsweatgatheringattheedgesofmyhair;Icouldstandanythingbutabunchofpeoplelookingatme.Theywerequitestill.

"What'sthematter?"Iasked.

Atticus said nothing. I looked around and up at Mr.Cunningham,whosefacewasequallyimpassive.Thenhedidapeculiar thing. He squatted down and took me by bothshoulders.

"I'lltellhimyousaidhey,littlelady,"hesaid.

Thenhestraightenedupandwavedabigpaw."Let'sclearout,"hecalled."Let'sgetgoing,boys."

Astheyhadcome, inonesandtwosthemenshuffledbacktotheir ramshackle cars. Doors slammed, engines coughed, andtheyweregone.

I turned to Atticus, but Atticus had gone to the jail and wasleaningagainst itwithhis face to thewall. Iwent tohimandpulledhissleeve."Canwegohomenow?"Henodded,producedhishandkerchief,gavehisfaceagoing-overandblewhisnoseviolently.

"Mr.Finch?"

A soft husky voice came from the darkness above: "Theygone?"

Atticus stepped back and looked up. "They've gone," he said."Getsomesleep,Tom.Theywon'tbotheryouanymore."

Fromadifferentdirection,anothervoicecutcrisplythroughthenight:"You'redamntootin'theywon't.Hadyoucoveredallthetime,Atticus."

Mr.Underwoodandadouble-barreledshotgunwereleaningouthiswindowaboveTheMaycombTribuneoffice.

Itwas longpastmybedtimeandIwasgrowingquitetired; itseemedthatAtticusandMr.Underwoodwouldtalkfortherestof thenight,Mr.Underwoodout thewindowandAtticusupathim. Finally Atticus returned, switched off the light above thejaildoor,andpickeduphischair.

"CanIcarryitforyou,Mr.Finch?"askedDill.Hehadnotsaidawordthewholetime.

"Why,thankyou,son."

Walkingtowardtheoffice,DillandIfellintostepbehindAtticusandJem.Dillwasencumberedby thechair,andhispacewasslower.AtticusandJemwerewellaheadofus,andIassumedthatAtticuswasgivinghimhell fornotgoinghome,butIwaswrong.Astheypassedunderastreetlight,AtticusreachedoutandmassagedJem'shair,hisonegestureofaffection.

16

Jemheardme.Hethrusthisheadaroundtheconnectingdoor.As he came to my bed Atticus's light flashed on. We stayedwherewewereuntil itwentoff;weheardhim turnover,andwewaiteduntilhewasstillagain.

Jemtookmetohisroomandputmeinbedbesidehim."Trytogotosleep,"hesaid,"It'llbealloveraftertomorrow,maybe."

Wehadcomeinquietly,soasnottowakeAunty.Atticuskilledthe engine in the driveway and coasted to the carhouse; wewentinthebackdoorandtoourroomswithoutaword.Iwasvery tired, and was drifting into sleep when the memory ofAtticuscalmly foldinghisnewspaperandpushingbackhishatbecame Atticus standing in the middle of an empty waitingstreet,pushinguphisglasses.The fullmeaningof thenight'seventshitmeandIbegancrying.Jemwasawfullyniceaboutit: foroncehedidn'tremindmethatpeoplenearlynineyearsolddidn'tdothingslikethat.

Everybody's appetitewas delicate thismorning, except Jem's:he ate his way through three eggs. Atticus watched in frankadmiration;AuntAlexandrasippedcoffeeandradiatedwavesofdisapproval.Childrenwhoslippedoutatnightwereadisgraceto the family.Atticus saidhewas rightgladhisdisgraceshadcome along, but Aunty said, "Nonsense, Mr. Underwood wasthereallthetime."

"Youknow, it'safunnythingaboutBraxton,"saidAtticus."HedespisesNegroes,won'thaveonenearhim."

LocalopinionheldMr.Underwoodtobeanintense,profanelittleman, whose father in a fey fit of humor christened BraxtonBragg,anameMr.Underwoodhaddonehisbesttolivedown.

Atticus said naming people after Confederate generals madeslowsteadydrinkers.

Calpurnia was serving Aunt Alexandra more coffee, and sheshookherheadatwhatIthoughtwasapleadingwinninglook."You'restilltoolittle,"shesaid."I'lltellyouwhenyouain't."Isaid itmighthelpmystomach."Allright,"shesaid,andgotacupfromthesideboard.Shepouredonetablespoonfulofcoffeeintoitandfilledthecuptothebrimwithmilk.Ithankedherbysticking outmy tongue at it, and looked up to catch Aunty'swarningfrown.ButshewasfrowningatAtticus.

She waited until Calpurnia was in the kitchen, then she said,"Don'ttalklikethatinfrontofthem."

"Talklikewhatinfrontofwhom?"heasked.

"Like that in front of Calpurnia. You said Braxton UnderwooddespisesNegroesrightinfrontofher."

"Well,I'msureCalknowsit.EverybodyinMaycombknowsit."

Iwas beginning to notice a subtle change inmy father thesedays,thatcameoutwhenhetalkedwithAuntAlexandra.Itwasa quiet digging in, never outright irritation. Therewas a faintstarchinessinhisvoicewhenhesaid,"Anythingfittosayatthetable's fit to say in front of Calpurnia. She knows what shemeanstothisfamily."

"Idon'tthinkit'sagoodhabit,Atticus.Itencouragesthem.Youknow how they talk among themselves. Every thing thathappensinthistown'souttotheQuartersbeforesundown."

Myfatherputdownhisknife."Idon'tknowofanylawthatsaysthey can't talk.Maybe ifwedidn't give themsomuch to talkaboutthey'dbequiet.Whydon'tyoudrinkyourcoffee,Scout?"

Iwasplaying in itwiththespoon."I thoughtMr.Cunninghamwasafriendofours.Youtoldmealongtimeagohewas."

"Hestillis."

"Butlastnighthewantedtohurtyou."

Atticus placed his fork beside his knife and pushed his plateaside. "Mr. Cunningham's basically a goodman," he said, "hejusthashisblindspotsalongwiththerestofus."

Jem spoke. "Don't call that a blind spot.He'da killed you lastnightwhenhefirstwentthere."

"Hemight have hurtme a little," Atticus conceded, "but son,you'llunderstandfolksalittlebetterwhenyou'reolder.Amob'salways made up of people, no matter what. Mr. Cunninghamwaspartofamoblastnight,buthewasstillaman.Everymobinevery littleSoutherntown isalwaysmadeupofpeopleyouknow-doesn'tsaymuchforthem,doesit?"

"I'llsaynot,"saidJem.

"Soittookaneight-year-oldchildtobring'emtotheirsenses,didn'tit?"saidAtticus."Thatprovessomething-thatagangofwild animals can be stopped, simply because they're stillhuman.Hmp,maybeweneedapolice forceofchildren...youchildrenlastnightmadeWalterCunninghamstandinmyshoesforaminute.Thatwasenough."

Well, Ihoped Jemwouldunderstand folksa littlebetterwhenhe was older; I wouldn't. "First day Walter comes back toschool'llbehislast,"Iaffirmed.

"Youwillnottouchhim,"Atticussaidflatly."Idon'twanteitherof you bearing a grudge about this thing, no matter whathappens."

"You see, don't you," said Aunt Alexandra, "what comes ofthingslikethis.Don'tsayIhaven'ttoldyou."

Atticussaidhe'dneversay that,pushedouthischairandgotup."There'sadayahead,soexcuseme.Jem,Idon'twantyouandScoutdowntowntoday,please."

AsAtticusdeparted,Dillcameboundingdownthehall intothediningroom. "It's all over town this morning," he announced,"all about how we held off a hundred folks with our barehands...."

Aunt Alexandra stared him to silence. "It was not a hundredfolks," she said, "and nobody held anybody off. It was just anestofthoseCunninghams,drunkanddisorderly."

"Aw,Aunty,that's justDill'sway,"saidJem.Hesignaledustofollowhim.

"Youallstayintheyardtoday,"shesaid,aswemadeourwaytothefrontporch.

Itwas likeSaturday.People fromthesouthendof thecountypassedourhouseinaleisurelybutsteadystream.

Mr. Dolphus Raymond lurched by on his thoroughbred. "Don'tseehowhestaysinthesaddle,"murmuredJem."Howc'nyoustandtogetdrunk'foreeightinthemorning?"

A wagonload of ladies rattled past us. They wore cottonsunbonnetsanddresseswithlongsleeves.Abeardedmaninawoolhatdrovethem."Yonder'ssomeMennonites,"JemsaidtoDill. "Theydon'thavebuttons."They liveddeep in thewoods,didmost of their trading across the river, and rarely came toMaycomb.Dillwasinterested."They'veallgotblueeyes,"Jemexplained, "and the men can't shave after they marry. Theirwiveslikefor'emtotickle'emwiththeirbeards."

Mr.XBillupsrodebyonamuleandwavedtous."He'safunnyman,"saidJem."X'shisname,nothis initial.Hewas incourtonetimeandtheyaskedhimhisname.HesaidXBillups.Clerk

asked him to spell it and he said X. Asked him again and hesaidX.Theykeptat ittillhewroteXonasheetofpaperandheld itupforeverybodytosee.Theyaskedhimwherehegothis name and he said that's the way his folks signed him upwhenhewasborn."

As the county went by us, Jem gave Dill the histories andgeneral attitudes of the more prominent figures: Mr. TensawJones voted the straight Prohibition ticket; Miss Emily Davisdippedsnuff inprivate;Mr.ByronWallercouldplaytheviolin;Mr.JakeSladewascuttinghisthirdsetofteeth.

Awagonloadofunusuallystern-facedcitizensappeared.Whenthey pointed to Miss Maudie Atkinson's yard, ablaze withsummer flowers, Miss Maudie herself came out on the porch.Therewasanodd thingaboutMissMaudie- onherporch shewastoofarawayforustoseeherfeaturesclearly,butwecouldalways catch her mood by the way she stood. She was nowstandingarmsakimbo,hershouldersdroopingalittle,herheadcocked to one side, her glasses winking in the sunlight. Weknewsheworeagrinoftheuttermostwickedness.

Thedriver of thewagon sloweddownhismules, anda shrill-voicedwomancalledout:"Hethatcometh invanitydepartethindarkness!"

Miss Maudie answered: "A merry heart maketh a cheerfulcountenance!"

I guess that the foot-washers thought that the Devil wasquotingScripture forhisownpurposes,as thedriver speededhis mules. Why they objected to Miss Maudie's yard was amystery, heightened in my mind because for someone whospentall thedaylighthoursoutdoors,MissMaudie'scommandofScripturewasformidable.

"Yougoin' tocourt thismorning?"askedJem.Wehadstrolledover.

"I am not," she said. "I have no businesswith the court thismorning."

"Aren'tyougoin'downtowatch?"askedDill.

"Iamnot.'t'smorbid,watchingapoordevilontrialforhislife.Lookatallthosefolks,it'slikeaRomancarnival."

"Theyhaftatryhiminpublic,MissMaudie,"Isaid."Wouldn'tberightiftheydidn't."

"I'mquiteawareofthat,"shesaid."Justbecause it'spublic,Idon'thavetogo,doI?"

MissStephanieCrawfordcameby.Sheworeahatandgloves."Um,um,um," she said. "Look at all those folks- you'd thinkWilliamJenningsBryanwasspeakin'."

"Andwhereareyougoing,Stephanie?"inquiredMissMaudie.

"TotheJitneyJungle."

Miss Maudie said she'd never seen Miss Stephanie go to theJitneyJungleinahatinherlife.

"Well," saidMissStephanie, "I thought Imight just look inatthecourthouse,toseewhatAtticus'supto."

"Betterbecarefulhedoesn'thandyouasubpoena."

We asked Miss Maudie to elucidate: she said Miss Stephanieseemedtoknowsomuchaboutthecaseshemightaswellbecalledontotestify.

Weheldoffuntilnoon,whenAtticuscamehometodinnerandsaidthey'dspentthemorningpickingthejury.Afterdinner,westoppedbyforDillandwenttotown.

Itwasagalaoccasion.Therewasnoroomatthepublichitching

rail foranotheranimal,mulesandwagonswereparkedunderevery available tree. The courthouse squarewas coveredwithpicnicpartiessittingonnewspapers,washingdownbiscuitandsyrup with warm milk from fruit jars. Some people weregnawing on cold chicken and cold fried pork chops. Themoreaffluent chased their food with drugstore Coca-Cola in bulb-shaped soda glasses. Greasy-faced children popped-the-whipthrough the crowd, and babies lunched at their mothers'breasts.

Inafarcornerofthesquare,theNegroessatquietlyinthesun,diningonsardines,crackers,andthemorevividflavorsofNehiCola.Mr.DolphusRaymondsatwiththem.

"Jem,"saidDill,"he'sdrinkin'outofasack."

Mr. Dolphus Raymond seemed to be so doing: two yellowdrugstorestrawsranfromhismouthtothedepthsofabrownpaperbag.

"Ain'teverseenanybodydothat,"murmuredDill.

"Howdoeshekeepwhat'sinitinit?"

Jemgiggled."He'sgotaCo-Colabottlefullofwhiskeyinthere.That's so's not to upset the ladies. You'll see him sip it allafternoon,he'llstepoutforawhileandfillitbackup."

"Why'shesittin'withthecoloredfolks?"

"Alwaysdoes.Helikes'embetter'nhelikesus,Ireckon.Livesbyhimselfwaydownnear the county line.He'sgot a coloredwomanandallsortsofmixedchillun.Showyousomeof'emifwesee'em."

"Hedoesn'tlookliketrash,"saidDill.

"He'snot,heownsallonesideoftheriverbankdownthere,andhe'sfromarealoldfamilytoboot."

"Thenwhydoeshedolikethat?"

"That'sjusthisway,"saidJem."Theysayhenevergotoverhisweddin'. He was supposed to marry one of the- the Spencerladies,Ithink.Theyweregonnahaveahugeweddin',buttheydidn't-aftertherehearsalthebridewentupstairsandblewherheadoff.Shotgun.Shepulledthetriggerwithhertoes."

"Didtheyeverknowwhy?"

"No,"saidJem,"nobodyeverknewquitewhybutMr.Dolphus.They said it was because she found out about his coloredwoman, he reckoned he could keep her and getmarried too.He'sbeensortadrunkeversince.Youknow,though,he'srealgoodtothosechillun-"

"Jem,"Iasked,"what'samixedchild?"

"Halfwhite,halfcolored.You'veseen'em,Scout.Youknowthatred-kinky-headedonethatdeliversforthedrugstore.He'shalfwhite.They'rerealsad."

"Sad,howcome?"

"They don't belong anywhere. Colored folks won't have 'embecause they're half white; white folks won't have 'em causethey're colored, so they're just in-betweens, don't belonganywhere.ButMr.Dolphus,now,theysayhe'sshippedtwoofhis up north. They don't mind 'em up north. Yonder's one of'em."

AsmallboyclutchingaNegrowoman'shandwalkedtowardus.He lookedallNegro tome:hewas rich chocolatewith flaringnostrilsandbeautiful teeth.Sometimeshewouldskiphappily,andtheNegrowomantuggedhishandtomakehimstop.

Jemwaiteduntiltheypassedus."That'soneofthelittleones,"hesaid.

"Howcanyoutell?"askedDill."Helookedblacktome."

"Youcan'tsometimes,notunlessyouknowwhotheyare.Buthe'shalfRaymond,allright."

"Buthowcanyoutell?"Iasked.

"Itoldyou,Scout,youjusthaftaknowwhotheyare."

"Wellhowdoyouknowweain'tNegroes?"

"UncleJackFinchsayswereallydon'tknow.HesaysasfarashecantracebacktheFinchesweain't,butforallheknowswemightacomestraightoutofEthiopiadurin'theOldTestament."

"Wellifwecameoutdurin'theOldTestamentit'stoolongagotomatter."

"That'swhat I thought," said Jem, "butaroundhereonceyouhaveadropofNegroblood,thatmakesyouallblack.Hey,look-"

Someinvisiblesignalhadmadethelunchersonthesquareriseandscatterbitsofnewspaper,cellophane,andwrappingpaper.Childrencametomothers,babieswerecradledonhipsasmeninsweat-stainedhatscollected their familiesandherded themthrough thecourthousedoors. In the far cornerof thesquarethe Negroes and Mr. Dolphus Raymond stood up and dustedtheir breeches. There were few women and children amongthem,which seemed to dispel the holidaymood. Theywaitedpatientlyatthedoorsbehindthewhitefamilies.

"Let'sgoin,"saidDill.

"Naw,webetterwaittilltheygetin,Atticusmightnotlikeitifheseesus,"saidJem.

The Maycomb County courthouse was faintly reminiscent ofArlington in one respect: the concrete pillars supporting its

south roof were too heavy for their light burden. The pillarswere all that remained standingwhen the original courthouseburnedin1856.Anothercourthousewasbuiltaroundthem.Itisbettertosay,builtinspiteofthem.Butforthesouthporch,theMaycombCountycourthousewasearlyVictorian,presentinganunoffensivevistawhenseenfromthenorth.Fromtheotherside, however, Greek revival columns clashed with a bignineteenth-century clock tower housing a rusty unreliableinstrument,aview indicatingapeopledetermined topreserveeveryphysicalscrapofthepast.

Toreachthecourtroom,onthesecondfloor,onepassedsundrysunlesscountycubbyholes: the taxassessor, the taxcollector,thecountyclerk,thecountysolicitor,thecircuitclerk,thejudgeof probate lived in cool dim hutches that smelled of decayingrecordbooksmingledwitholddampcementandstaleurine.Itwasnecessary to turnonthe lights in thedaytime; therewasalwaysafilmofdustontheroughfloorboards.Theinhabitantsoftheseofficeswerecreaturesoftheirenvironment:littlegray-facedmen,theyseemeduntouchedbywindorsun.

Weknewtherewasacrowd,butwehadnotbargainedforthemultitudes in the first-floorhallway. I got separated from Jemand Dill, but mademy way toward the wall by the stairwell,knowingJemwouldcomeformeeventually. I foundmyself inthemiddleoftheIdlers'Clubandmademyselfasunobtrusiveaspossible.Thiswasagroupofwhite-shirted,khaki-trousered,suspenderedoldmenwhohad spent their livesdoingnothingand passed their twilight days doing same on pine benchesunder the live oaks on the square. Attentive critics ofcourthousebusiness,AtticussaidtheyknewasmuchlawastheChief Justice, from long years of observation. Normally, theywere the court's only spectators, and today they seemedresentfuloftheinterruptionoftheircomfortableroutine.Whenthey spoke, their voices sounded casually important. Theconversationwasaboutmyfather.

"...thinksheknowswhathe'sdoing,"onesaid.

"Oh-hnow,Iwouldn'tsaythat,"saidanother."AtticusFinch'sadeepreader,amightydeepreader."

"Hereadsallright,that'sallhedoes."Theclubsnickered.

"Lemmetellyousomethin'now,Billy,"athirdsaid,"youknowthecourtappointedhimtodefendthisnigger."

"Yeah,butAtticusaimstodefendhim.That'swhatIdon't likeaboutit."

Thiswasnews,newsthatputadifferentlightonthings:Atticushadto,whetherhewantedtoornot. I thought itoddthathehadn'tsaidanythingtousaboutit-wecouldhaveuseditmanytimesindefendinghimandourselves.Hehadto,that'swhyhewasdoingit,equaledfewerfightsandlessfussing.Butdidthatexplain the town's attitude? The court appointed Atticus todefend him. Atticus aimed to defend him. That's what theydidn'tlikeaboutit.Itwasconfusing.

TheNegroes,havingwaitedforthewhitepeopletogoupstairs,began to come in. "Whoa now, just a minute," said a clubmember,holdinguphiswalkingstick."Justdon'tstartupthemtherestairsyetawhile."

Theclubbeganitsstiff-jointedclimbandranintoDillandJemontheirwaydownlookingforme.TheysqueezedpastandJemcalled,"Scout,comeon,thereain'taseatleft.We'llhaftastandup."

"Lookathere,now."hesaidirritably,astheblackpeoplesurgedupstairs. The oldmen ahead of themwould takemost of thestanding room.Wewereoutof luckand itwasmy fault, Jeminformedme.Westoodmiserablybythewall.

"Can'tyouallgetin?"

ReverendSykeswaslookingdownatus,blackhatinhand.

"Hey,Reverend,"saidJem."Naw,Scoutheremessedusup."

"Well,let'sseewhatwecando."

ReverendSykesedgedhiswayupstairs.Inafewmomentshewasback."There'snotaseatdownstairs.Doyouallreckonit'llbeallrightifyouallcametothebalconywithme?"

"Gosh yes," said Jem. Happily, we sped ahead of ReverendSykes to the courtroom floor. There, we went up a coveredstaircaseandwaitedatthedoor.ReverendSykescamepuffingbehind us, and steered us gently through the black people inthe balcony. Four Negroes rose and gave us their front-rowseats.

TheColoredbalconyranalongthreewallsofthecourtroomlikeasecond-storyveranda,andfromitwecouldseeeverything.

Thejurysattotheleft,underlongwindows.Sunburned,lanky,they seemed tobeall farmers, but thiswasnatural: townfolkrarelysatonjuries,theywereeitherstruckorexcused.Oneortwoofthejurylookedvaguelylikedressed-upCunninghams.Atthisstagetheysatstraightandalert.

Thecircuitsolicitorandanotherman,AtticusandTomRobinsonsat at tableswith their backs to us. Therewas a brownbookand some yellow tablets on the solicitor's table; Atticus'swasbare.

Just inside the railing that divided the spectators from thecourt, the witnesses sat on cowhide-bottomed chairs. Theirbacksweretous.

JudgeTaylorwasonthebench,lookinglikeasleepyoldshark,hispilotfishwritingrapidlybelowinfrontofhim.JudgeTaylorlookedlikemostjudgesIhadeverseen:amiable,white-haired,slightly ruddy-faced,hewasamanwho ranhis courtwithanalarming informality- he sometimes propped his feet up, he

often cleaned his fingernails with his pocket knife. In longequityhearings,especiallyafterdinner,hegavetheimpressionofdozing,an impressiondispelled foreverwhena lawyeroncedeliberatelypushedapileofbooks to the floor inadesperateeffort towakehimup.Withoutopeninghiseyes,JudgeTaylormurmured, "Mr. Whitley, do that again and it'll cost you onehundreddollars."

Hewasaman learned in the law,andalthoughheseemedtotake his job casually, in reality he kept a firm grip on anyproceedingsthatcamebeforehim.OnlyoncewasJudgeTaylorever seen at a dead standstill in open court, and theCunninghamsstoppedhim.OldSarum,theirstampinggrounds,was populated by two families separate and apart in thebeginning, but unfortunately bearing the same name. TheCunninghamsmarriedtheConinghamsuntilthespellingofthenameswasacademic-academicuntilaCunninghamdisputedaConingham over land titles and took to the law. During acontroversyof thischaracter, JeemsCunninghamtestified thathismotherspelleditCunninghamondeedsandthings,butshewasreallyaConingham,shewasanuncertainspeller,aseldomreader,andwasgiventolookingfarawaysometimeswhenshesat on the front gallery in the evening. After nine hours oflisteningtotheeccentricitiesofOldSarum'sinhabitants,JudgeTaylor threw the case out of court. When asked upon whatgrounds, Judge Taylor said, "Champertous connivance," anddeclaredhe hoped toGod the litigantswere satisfied by eachhavinghad theirpublic say.Theywere.Thatwasall theyhadwantedinthefirstplace.

JudgeTaylorhadoneinterestinghabit.Hepermittedsmokinginhis courtroom but did not himself indulge: sometimes, if onewaslucky,onehadtheprivilegeofwatchinghimputalongdrycigarintohismouthandmunchitslowlyup.Bitbybitthedeadcigarwould disappear, to reappear some hours later as a flatslick mess, its essence extracted and mingling with JudgeTaylor's digestive juices. I once askedAtticus howMrs. Taylor

stoodtokisshim,butAtticussaidtheydidn'tkissmuch.

Thewitness standwas to the right of JudgeTaylor, andwhenwegottoourseatsMr.HeckTatewasalreadyonit.

17

"Jem,"Isaid,"arethosetheEwellssittin'downyonder?"

"Hush,"saidJem,"Mr.HeckTate'stestifyin'."

Mr. Tate had dressed for the occasion. He wore an ordinarybusinesssuit,whichmadehim looksomehow likeeveryotherman: gone were his high boots, lumber jacket, and bullet-studded belt. From thatmoment he ceased to terrifyme. Hewas sitting forward in the witness chair, his hands claspedbetweenhisknees,listeningattentivelytothecircuitsolicitor.

The solicitor, aMr.Gilmer,was notwell known to us.HewasfromAbbottsville;wesawhimonlywhencourtconvened,andthatrarely,forcourtwasofnospecialinteresttoJemandme.A balding, smooth-faced man, he could have been anywherebetweenfortyandsixty.Althoughhisbackwastous,weknewhe had a slight cast in one of his eyes which he used to hisadvantage:heseemedtobelookingatapersonwhenhewasactually doing nothing of the kind, thus hewas hell on juriesand witnesses. The jury, thinking themselves under closescrutiny,paidattention;sodidthewitnesses,thinkinglikewise.

"...inyourownwords,Mr.Tate,"Mr.Gilmerwassaying.

"Well," saidMr.Tate, touchinghisglassesandspeaking tohisknees,"Iwascalled-"

"Couldyousay it tothejury,Mr.Tate?Thankyou.Whocalledyou?"

Mr.Tatesaid,"IwasfetchedbyBob-byMr.BobEwellyonder,onenight-"

"Whatnight,sir?"

Mr.Tatesaid,"ItwasthenightofNovembertwenty-first.Iwasjust leavingmyoffice togohomewhenB-Mr.Ewell came in,veryexcitedhewas,andsaidgetouttohishousequick,somenigger'drapedhisgirl."

"Didyougo?"

"Certainly.GotinthecarandwentoutasfastasIcould."

"Andwhatdidyoufind?"

"Foundher lyingon the floor in themiddleof the front room,oneontherightasyougoin.Shewasprettywellbeatup,butIheavedhertoherfeetandshewashedherfaceinabucketinthecornerandsaidshewasallright.IaskedherwhohurtherandshesaiditwasTomRobinson-"

Judge Taylor, who had been concentrating on his fingernails,lookedupasifhewereexpectinganobjection,butAtticuswasquiet.

"-askedherifhebeatherlikethat,shesaidyeshehad.Askedher ifhe tookadvantageofherandshesaidyeshedid.SoIwent down to Robinson's house and brought him back. Sheidentifiedhimastheone,soItookhimin.That'salltherewastoit."

"Thankyou,"saidMr.Gilmer.

JudgeTaylorsaid,"Anyquestions,Atticus?"

"Yes,"saidmyfather.Hewassittingbehindhistable;hischairwasskewedtooneside,hislegswerecrossedandonearmwasrestingonthebackofhischair.

"Did you call a doctor, Sheriff? Did anybody call a doctor?"askedAtticus.

"Nosir,"saidMr.Tate.

"Didn'tcalladoctor?"

"Nosir,"repeatedMr.Tate.

"Whynot?"TherewasanedgetoAtticus'svoice.

"WellIcantellyouwhyIdidn't.Itwasn'tnecessary,Mr.Finch.Shewasmightybangedup.Something sho'happened, itwasobvious."

"Butyoudidn'tcalladoctor?Whileyouweretheredidanyonesendforone,fetchone,carryhertoone?"

"Nosir-"

JudgeTaylorbrokein."He'sansweredthequestionthreetimes,Atticus.Hedidn'tcalladoctor."

Atticussaid,"Ijustwantedtomakesure,Judge,"andthejudgesmiled.

Jem's hand, which was resting on the balcony rail, tightenedaround it. He drew in his breath suddenly. Glancing below, Isawnocorrespondingreaction,andwonderedifJemwastryingto be dramatic. Dill was watching peacefully, and so wasReverendSykesbesidehim."Whatisit?"Iwhispered,andgotaterse,"Sh-h!"

"Sheriff,"Atticuswassaying,"yousayshewasmightybangedup.Inwhatway?"

"Well-"

"Justdescribeherinjuries,Heck."

"Well, she was beaten around the head. There was alreadybruises comin' on her arms, and it happened about thirty

minutesbefore-"

"Howdoyouknow?"

Mr.Tategrinned."Sorry,that'swhattheysaid.Anyway,shewaspretty bruised upwhen I got there, and she had a black eyecomin'."

"Whicheye?"

Mr.Tateblinkedandranhishandsthroughhishair."Let'ssee,"hesaidsoftly,thenhelookedatAtticusasifheconsideredthequestionchildish."Can'tyouremember?"Atticusasked.

Mr.Tatepointedtoaninvisiblepersonfiveinchesinfrontofhimandsaid,"Herleft."

"Waitaminute,Sheriff,"saidAtticus."Wasitherleftfacingyouorherleftlookingthesamewayyouwere?"

Mr.Tatesaid,"Ohyes,that'dmakeitherright.Itwasherrighteye,Mr. Finch. I remember now, shewas bunged up on thatsideofherface...."

Mr.Tateblinkedagain,asifsomethinghadsuddenlybeenmadeplaintohim.ThenheturnedhisheadandlookedaroundatTomRobinson.Asifbyinstinct,TomRobinsonraisedhishead.

SomethinghadbeenmadeplaintoAtticusalso,anditbroughthimtohisfeet."Sheriff,pleaserepeatwhatyousaid."

"Itwasherrighteye,Isaid."

"No..." Atticus walked to the court reporter's desk and bentdownto the furiouslyscribblinghand. Itstopped, flippedbackthe shorthand pad, and the court reporter said, "'Mr. Finch. Iremembernowshewasbungeduponthatsideoftheface.'"

AtticuslookedupatMr.Tate."Whichsideagain,Heck?"

"Therightside,Mr.Finch,butshehadmorebruises-youwantahearabout'em?"

Atticus seemed to be bordering on another question, but hethought better of it and said, "Yes, what were her otherinjuries?" As Mr. Tate answered, Atticus turned and looked atTom Robinson as if to say this was something they hadn'tbargainedfor.

"...herarmswerebruised,andsheshowedmeherneck.Thereweredefinitefingermarksonhergullet-"

"Allaroundherthroat?Atthebackofherneck?"

"I'dsaytheywereallaround,Mr.Finch."

"Youwould?"

"Yes sir, she had a small throat, anybody could'a reachedarounditwith-"

"Just answer the question yes or no, please, Sheriff," saidAtticusdryly,andMr.Tatefellsilent.

Atticussatdownandnoddedtothecircuitsolicitor,whoshookhisheadatthejudge,whonoddedtoMr.Tate,whorosestifflyandsteppeddownfromthewitnessstand.

Below us, heads turned, feet scraped the floor, babies wereshifted to shoulders, anda fewchildren scamperedoutof thecourtroom. The Negroes behind us whispered softly amongthemselves; Dill was asking Reverend Sykes what it was allabout,butReverendSykessaidhedidn'tknow.So far, thingswere utterly dull: nobody had thundered, there were noarguments betweenopposing counsel, therewasnodrama; agrave disappointment to all present, it seemed. Atticus wasproceeding amiably, as if he were involved in a title dispute.With his infinite capacity for calming turbulent seas, he couldmakearapecaseasdryasasermon.Gonewastheterror in

mymindofstalewhiskeyandbarnyardsmells,ofsleepy-eyedsullenmen, of a husky voice calling in the night, "Mr. Finch?Theygone?"Ournightmarehadgonewithdaylight,everythingwouldcomeoutallright.

AllthespectatorswereasrelaxedasJudgeTaylor,exceptJem.Hismouthwastwistedintoapurposefulhalf-grin,andhiseyeshappy about, and he said something about corroboratingevidence,whichmademesurehewasshowingoff.

"...RobertE.LeeEwell!"

Inanswertotheclerk'sboomingvoice,alittlebantamcockofaman rose and strutted to the stand, the back of his neckreddeningatthesoundofhisname.Whenheturnedaroundtotaketheoath,wesawthathisfacewasasredashisneck.Wealso saw no resemblance to his namesake. A shock of wispynew-washedhairstoodupfromhisforehead;hisnosewasthin,pointed,andshiny;hehadnochintospeakof-itseemedtobepartofhiscrepeyneck.

"-sohelpmeGod,"hecrowed.

EverytownthesizeofMaycombhadfamiliesliketheEwells.Noeconomicfluctuationschangedtheirstatus-peopleliketheEwellslivedasguestsofthecountyinprosperityaswellasinthedepthsofadepression.Notruantofficerscouldkeeptheirnumerousoffspringinschool;nopublichealthofficercouldfreethemfromcongenitaldefects,variousworms,andthediseasesindigenoustofilthysurroundings.

Maycomb'sEwellslivedbehindthetowngarbagedumpinwhatwas once a Negro cabin. The cabin's plank walls weresupplementedwithsheetsof corrugated iron, its roof shingledwith tin cans hammered flat, so only its general shapesuggested its original design: square, with four tiny roomsopening onto a shotgun hall, the cabin rested uneasily uponfour irregular lumps of limestone. Its windows were merely

open spaces in the walls, which in the summertime werecovered with greasy strips of cheesecloth to keep out thevarmintsthatfeastedonMaycomb'srefuse.

The varmints had a lean time of it, for the Ewells gave thedump a thorough gleaning every day, and the fruits of theirindustry (those thatwerenoteaten)made theplotofgroundaround the cabin look like the playhouse of an insane child:whatpassedforafencewasbitsoftree-limbs,broomsticksandtool shafts, all tipped with rusty hammer-heads, snaggle-toothedrakeheads,shovels,axesandgrubbinghoes,heldonwith pieces of barbed wire. Enclosed by this barricade was adirtyyardcontainingtheremainsofaModel-TFord(onblocks),adiscardeddentist'schair,anancienticebox,pluslesseritems:oldshoes,worn-outtableradios,pictureframes,andfruitjars,underwhichscrawnyorangechickenspeckedhopefully.

Onecornerof theyard, though,bewilderedMaycomb.Againstthefence, ina line,weresixchipped-enamelslop jarsholdingbrilliantredgeraniums,caredforastenderlyasiftheybelongedtoMissMaudieAtkinson,hadMissMaudiedeignedtopermitageranium on her premises. People said they were MayellaEwell's.

Nobodywasquite surehowmanychildrenwereon theplace.Some people said six, others said nine; there were alwaysseveral dirty-faced ones at the windows when anyone passedby.NobodyhadoccasiontopassbyexceptatChristmas,whenthe churches delivered baskets, and when the mayor ofMaycomb asked us to please help the garbage collector bydumpingourowntreesandtrash.

AtticustookuswithhimlastChristmaswhenhecompliedwiththemayor'srequest.Adirtroadranfromthehighwaypastthedump, down to a small Negro settlement some five hundredyardsbeyondtheEwells'.Itwasnecessaryeithertobackouttothehighwayorgothefull lengthoftheroadandturnaround;mostpeopleturnedaround intheNegroes' frontyards.Inthe

frostyDecemberdusk, theircabins lookedneatandsnugwithpale blue smoke rising from the chimneys and doorwaysglowingamberfromthefiresinside.Thereweredelicioussmellsabout:chicken,baconfryingcrispasthetwilightair.JemandIdetected squirrel cooking, but it took an old countryman likeAtticus to identify possum and rabbit, aromas that vanishedwhenwerodebackpasttheEwellresidence.

Allthelittlemanonthewitnessstandhadthatmadehimanybetterthanhisnearestneighborswas,thatifscrubbedwithlyesoapinveryhotwater,hisskinwaswhite.

"Mr.RobertEwell?"askedMr.Gilmer.

"That'sm'name,cap'n,"saidthewitness.

Mr. Gilmer's back stiffened a little, and I felt sorry for him.Perhaps I'd better explain something now. I've heard thatlawyers'children,onseeingtheirparentsincourtintheheatofargument,get thewrong idea: theythinkopposingcounsel tobe thepersonalenemiesof theirparents, theysufferagonies,and are surprised to see them often go out arm-in-arm withtheir tormenters during the first recess. This was not true ofJemandme.Weacquirednotraumasfromwatchingourfatherwin or lose. I'm sorry that I can't provide any drama in thisrespect; if Idid, itwouldnotbe true.Wecould tell,however,whendebatebecamemoreacrimonious thanprofessional,butthiswas fromwatching lawyersother thanour father. IneverheardAtticusraisehisvoiceinmylife,excepttoadeafwitness.Mr.Gilmerwasdoinghisjob,asAtticuswasdoinghis.Besides,Mr. Ewell was Mr. Gilmer's witness, and he had no businessbeingrudetohimofallpeople.

"AreyouthefatherofMayellaEwell?"wasthenextquestion.

"Well,ifIain'tIcan'tdonothingaboutitnow,herma'sdead,"wastheanswer.

Judge Taylor stirred. He turned slowly in his swivel chair andlookedbenignlyat thewitness. "Areyou the fatherofMayellaEwell?" he asked, in a way that made the laughter below usstopsuddenly.

"Yessir,"Mr.Ewellsaidmeekly.

JudgeTaylorwentonintonesofgoodwill:"Thisthefirsttimeyou'veeverbeenincourt?Idon'trecalleverseeingyouhere."At thewitness's affirmative nod he continued, "Well, let's getsomething straight. There will be no more audibly obscenespeculationsonanysubjectfromanybodyinthiscourtroomaslongasI'msittinghere.Doyouunderstand?"

Mr.Ewellnodded,butIdon'tthinkhedid.JudgeTaylorsighedandsaid,"Allright,Mr.Gilmer?"

"Thankyou,sir.Mr.Ewell,wouldyoutellusinyourownwordswhat happened on the evening of November twenty-first,please?"

Jemgrinnedandpushedhishairback.Just-in-your-ownwordswas Mr. Gilmer's trademark. We often wondered who else'swordsMr.Gilmerwasafraidhiswitnessmightemploy.

"Well, thenightofNovembertwenty-oneIwascomin' in fromthewoodswithaloado'kindlin'andjustasIgottothefenceIheardMayellascreamin'likeastuckhoginsidethehouse-"

HereJudgeTaylorglancedsharplyatthewitnessandmusthavedecided his speculations devoid of evil intent, for he subsidedsleepily.

"Whattimewasit,Mr.Ewell?"

"Just'foresundown.Well,Iwassayin'Mayellawasscreamin'fitto beat Jesus-" another glance from the bench silenced Mr.Ewell.

"Yes?Shewasscreaming?"saidMr.Gilmer.

Mr. Ewell looked confusedly at the judge. "Well, Mayella wasraisin'thisholyracketsoIdroppedm'loadandrunasfastasIcouldbutIrunintoth'fence,butwhenIgotdistangledIrunupto th' window and I seen-" Mr. Ewell's face grew scarlet. HestoodupandpointedhisfingeratTomRobinson."-Iseenthatblackniggeryonderruttin'onmyMayella!"

SoserenewasJudgeTaylor'scourt,thathehadfewoccasionsto use his gavel, but he hammered fully fiveminutes. Atticuswasonhisfeetatthebenchsayingsomethingtohim,Mr.HeckTate as first officer of the county stood in the middle aislequellingthepackedcourtroom.Behindus,therewasanangrymuffledgroanfromthecoloredpeople.

Reverend Sykes leaned across Dill and me, pulling at Jem'selbow. "Mr. Jem," he said, "you better take Miss Jean Louisehome.Mr.Jem,youhearme?"

Jem turned his head. "Scout, go home. Dill, you'n'Scout gohome."

"You gotta make me first," I said, remembering Atticus'sblesseddictum.

Jemscowled furiously atme, then said toReverendSykes, "Ithinkit'sokay,Reverend,shedoesn'tunderstandit.

"

Iwasmortallyoffended."Imostcertainlydo,Ic'nunderstandanythingyoucan."

"Awhush.Shedoesn'tunderstand it,Reverend,sheain'tnineyet."

ReverendSykes'sblackeyeswereanxious."Mr.Finchknowyouall are here? This ain't fit for Miss Jean Louise or you boys

either."

Jemshookhishead."Hecan'tseeusthisfaraway.It'sallright,Reverend."

IknewJemwouldwin,becauseIknewnothingcouldmakehimleavenow.DillandIweresafe,forawhile:Atticuscouldseeusfromwherehewas,ifhelooked.

AsJudgeTaylorbangedhisgavel,Mr.Ewellwassittingsmuglyinthewitnesschair,surveyinghishandiwork.Withonephrasehehadturnedhappypicknickersintoasulky,tense,murmuringcrowd, being slowly hypnotized by gavel taps lessening inintensityuntiltheonlysoundinthecourtroomwasadimpink-pink-pink:thejudgemighthavebeenrappingthebenchwithapencil.

Inpossessionofhiscourtoncemore,JudgeTaylorleanedbackin his chair. He looked suddenlyweary; his agewas showing,andIthoughtaboutwhatAtticushadsaid-heandMrs.Taylordidn'tkissmuch-hemusthavebeennearlyseventy.

"There has been a request," Judge Taylor said, "that thiscourtroombe clearedof spectators, or at least ofwomenandchildren,arequestthatwillbedeniedforthetimebeing.Peoplegenerallyseewhattheylookfor,andhearwhattheylistenfor,andtheyhavetherighttosubjecttheirchildrentoit,butIcanassureyouofonething:youwillreceivewhatyouseeandhearinsilenceoryouwillleavethiscourtroom,butyouwon'tleaveituntil thewholeboilingof you comebeforemeon contemptcharges. Mr. Ewell, you will keep your testimony within theconfinesofChristianEnglishusage,ifthatispossible.Proceed,Mr.Gilmer."

Mr.Ewellremindedmeofadeaf-mute.Iwassurehehadneverheard the words Judge Taylor directed at him- his mouthstruggledsilentlywiththem-buttheirimportregisteredonhisface. Smugness faded from it, replaced by a dogged

earnestness that fooledJudgeTaylornotatall:as longasMr.Ewellwason thestand, the judgekepthiseyesonhim,as ifdaringhimtomakeafalsemove.

Mr. Gilmer and Atticus exchanged glances. Atticus was sittingdownagain,his fist restedonhischeekandwecouldnotseehis face.Mr. Gilmer looked rather desperate. A question fromJudge Taylor made him relax: "Mr. Ewell, did you see thedefendanthavingsexualintercoursewithyourdaughter?"

"Yes,Idid."

The spectatorswere quiet, but the defendant said something.Atticuswhisperedtohim,andTomRobinsonwassilent.

"Yousayyouwereatthewindow?"askedMr.Gilmer.

"Yessir."

"Howfarisitfromtheground?"

"'boutthreefoot."

"Didyouhaveaclearviewoftheroom?"

"Yessir."

"Howdidtheroomlook?"

"Well,itwasallslungabout,liketherewasafight."

"Whatdidyoudowhenyousawthedefendant?"

"Well,Irunaroundthehousetogetin,butherunoutthefrontdoorjustaheadofme.Isawedwhohewas,allright.IwastoodistractedaboutMayellatorunafter'im.Iruninthehouseandshewaslyin'onthefloorsquallin'-"

"Thenwhatdidyoudo?"

"Why,IrunforTatequickasIcould.Iknowedwhoitwas,allright, liveddownyonderinthatnigger-nest,passedthehouseevery day. Jedge, I've asked this county for fifteen years toclean out that nest down yonder, they're dangerous to livearound'sidesdevaluin'myproperty-"

"Thankyou,Mr.Ewell,"saidMr.Gilmerhurriedly.

The witness made a hasty descent from the stand and ransmackintoAtticus,whohadrisentoquestionhim.JudgeTaylorpermittedthecourttolaugh.

"Just a minute, sir," said Atticus genially. "Could I ask you aquestionortwo?"

Mr.Ewellbackedupintothewitnesschair,settledhimself,andregardedAtticuswithhaughtysuspicion,anexpressioncommonto Maycomb County witnesses when confronted by opposingcounsel.

"Mr. Ewell," Atticus began, "folks were doing a lot of runningthatnight.Let'ssee,yousayyourantothehouse,yourantothewindow,youraninside,yourantoMayella,youranforMr.Tate.Didyou,duringallthisrunning,runforadoctor?"

"Wadn'tnoneedto.Iseenwhathappened."

"But there's one thing I don't understand," said Atticus."Weren'tyouconcernedwithMayella'scondition?"

"Imostpositivelywas,"saidMr.Ewell."Iseenwhodoneit."

"No,Imeanherphysicalcondition.Didyounotthinkthenatureofherinjurieswarrantedimmediatemedicalattention?"

"What?"

"Didn'tyouthinksheshouldhavehadadoctor,immediately?"

Thewitnesssaidheneverthoughtof it,hehadnevercalledadoctortoanyofhis'ninhislife,andifhehaditwouldhavecosthimfivedollars."Thatall?"heasked.

"Not quite," said Atticus casually. "Mr. Ewell, you heard thesheriff'stestimony,didn'tyou?"

"How'sthat?"

"You were in the courtroom when Mr. Heck Tate was on thestand,weren'tyou?Youheardeverythinghesaid,didn'tyou?"

Mr.Ewellconsideredthemattercarefully,andseemedtodecidethatthequestionwassafe.

"Yes,"hesaid.

"DoyouagreewithhisdescriptionofMayella'sinjuries?"

"How'sthat?"

Atticus looked around at Mr. Gilmer and smiled. Mr. Ewellseemeddeterminednottogivethedefensethetimeofday.

"Mr. Tate testified that her right eye was blackened, that shewasbeatenaroundthe-"

"Ohyeah,"saidthewitness."IholdwitheverythingTatesaid."

"Youdo?"askedAtticusmildly."Ijustwanttomakesure."Hewent to the court reporter, said something, and the reporterentertained us for some minutes by reading Mr. Tate'stestimonyas if itwere stock-market quotations: "...which eyeherleftohyesthat'dmakeitherrightitwasherrighteyeMr.FinchI remembernowshewasbunged."He flippedthepage."UponthatsideofthefaceSheriffpleaserepeatwhatyousaiditwasherrighteyeIsaid-"

"Thankyou,Bert,"saidAtticus."Youheard itagain,Mr.Ewell.

Do you have anything to add to it? Do you agree with thesheriff?"

"I holds with Tate. Her eye was blacked and she wasmightybeatup."

The little man seemed to have forgotten his previoushumiliation from the bench. It was becoming evident that hethought Atticus an easy match. He seemed to grow ruddyagain; his chest swelled, and once more he was a red littlerooster.Ithoughthe'dbursthisshirtatAtticus'snextquestion:

"Mr.Ewell,canyoureadandwrite?"

Mr. Gilmer interrupted. "Objection," he said. "Can't see whatwitness's literacy has to do with the case,irrelevant'n'immaterial."

Judge Taylor was about to speak but Atticus said, "Judge, ifyou'llallowthequestionplusanotheroneyou'llsoonsee."

"Allright,let'ssee,"saidJudgeTaylor,"butmakesurewesee,Atticus.Overruled."

Mr. Gilmer seemed as curious as the rest of us as to whatbearingthestateofMr.Ewell'seducationhadonthecase.

"I'll repeat the question," said Atticus. "Can you read andwrite?"

"Imostpositivelycan."

"Willyouwriteyournameandshowus?"

"I most positively will. How do you think I sign my reliefchecks?"

Mr. Ewell was endearing himself to his fellow citizens. Thewhispersandchucklesbelowusprobablyhadtodowithwhata

cardhewas.

Iwasbecomingnervous.Atticusseemedtoknowwhathewasdoing-butitseemedtomethathe'dgonefrog-stickingwithoutalight.Never,never,never,oncross-examinationaskawitnessaquestionyoudon'talreadyknowtheanswerto,wasatenetIabsorbed with my baby-food. Do it, and you'll often get anansweryoudon'twant,ananswerthatmightwreckyourcase.

Atticuswasreachingintotheinsidepocketofhiscoat.Hedrewout an envelope, then reached into his vest pocket andunclippedhisfountainpen.Hemovedleisurely,andhadturnedso that he was in full view of the jury. He unscrewed thefountain-pencapandplaceditgentlyonhistable.Heshookthepen a little, then handed it with the envelope to thewitness."Wouldyouwriteyournameforus?"heasked."Clearlynow,sothejurycanseeyoudoit.

"

Mr. Ewell wrote on the back of the envelope and looked upcomplacently to see JudgeTaylor staringathimas ifheweresome fragrant gardenia in full bloomon thewitness stand, toseeMr.Gilmerhalf-sitting,half-standingathis table.The jurywaswatchinghim,onemanwasleaningforwardwithhishandsovertherailing.

"What'ssointerestin'?"heasked.

"You're left-handed, Mr. Ewell," said Judge Taylor. Mr. Ewellturned angrily to the judge and said he didn't see what hisbeingleft-handedhadtodowithit,thathewasaChrist-fearingman and Atticus Finch was taking advantage of him. Trickinglawyers like Atticus Finch took advantage of him all the timewiththeirtrickingways.Hehadtoldthemwhathappened,he'dsayitagainandagain-whichhedid.NothingAtticusaskedhimafterthatshookhisstory,thathe'dlookedthroughthewindow,then ran theniggeroff, then ran for thesheriff.Atticus finally

dismissedhim.

Mr.Gilmer asked him onemore question. "About yourwritingwithyourlefthand,areyouambidextrous,Mr.Ewell?"

"I most positively am not, I can use one hand good as theother.One hand good as the other," he added, glaring at thedefensetable.

Jem seemed to be having a quiet fit. He was pounding thebalconyrailsoftly,andoncehewhispered,"We'vegothim."

Ididn'tthinkso:Atticuswastryingtoshow,itseemedtome,thatMr.EwellcouldhavebeatenupMayella.ThatmuchIcouldfollow.Ifherrighteyewasblackedandshewasbeatenmostlyontherightsideoftheface,itwouldtendtoshowthataleft-handed person did it. Sherlock Holmes and Jem Finch wouldagree.ButTomRobinsoncouldeasilybeleft-handed,too.LikeMr.HeckTate,I imaginedapersonfacingme,wentthroughaswift mental pantomime, and concluded that he might haveheld her with his right hand and pounded her with his left. Ilooked down at him. His back was to us, but I could see hisbroadshouldersandbull-thickneck.Hecouldeasilyhavedoneit.IthoughtJemwascountinghischickens.

18

Butsomeonewasboomingagain.

"MayellaVioletEwell-!"

A young girl walked to the witness stand. As she raised herhandandsworethattheevidenceshegavewouldbethetruth,thewholetruth,andnothingbutthetruthsohelpherGod,sheseemedsomehowfragile-looking,butwhenshesatfacingusinthewitnesschairshebecamewhatshewas,athick-bodiedgirlaccustomedtostrenuouslabor.

InMaycombCounty, itwaseasyto tellwhensomeonebathedregularly, as opposed to yearly lavations: Mr. Ewell had ascalded look; as if an overnight soaking had deprived him ofprotectivelayersofdirt,hisskinappearedtobesensitivetotheelements. Mayella looked as if she tried to keep clean, and IwasremindedoftherowofredgeraniumsintheEwellyard.

Mr.GilmeraskedMayellatotellthejuryinherownwordswhathappenedontheeveningofNovembertwenty-firstoflastyear,justinherownwords,please.

Mayellasatsilently.

"Wherewereyouatduskon that evening?"beganMr.Gilmerpatiently.

"Ontheporch."

"Whichporch?"

"Ain'tbutone,thefrontporch."

"Whatwereyoudoingontheporch?"

"Nothin'."

JudgeTaylorsaid,"Justtelluswhathappened.Youcandothat,can'tyou?"

Mayella stared at him and burst into tears. She covered hermouthwithherhandsandsobbed.JudgeTaylorlethercryforawhile, then he said, "That's enough now. Don't be 'fraid ofanybodyhere,aslongasyoutellthetruth.Allthisisstrangetoyou,Iknow,butyou'venothingtobeashamedofandnothingtofear.Whatareyouscaredof?"

Mayella said something behind her hands. "What was that?"askedthejudge.

"Him,"shesobbed,pointingatAtticus.

"Mr.Finch?"

She nodded vigorously, saying, "Don'twant him doin'me likehedonePapa,tryin'tomakehimoutlefthanded..."

JudgeTaylorscratchedhisthickwhitehair.Itwasplainthathehad never been confrontedwith a problemof this kind. "Howoldareyou?"heasked.

"Nineteen-and-a-half,"Mayellasaid.

Judge Taylor cleared his throat and tried unsuccessfully tospeakinsoothingtones."Mr.Finchhasnoideaofscaringyou,"he growled, "and if he did, I'm here to stop him. That's onethingI'msittingupherefor.Nowyou'reabiggirl,soyoujustsitupstraightandtell the-telluswhathappenedtoyou.Youcandothat,can'tyou?"

IwhisperedtoJem,"Hasshegotgoodsense?"

Jemwassquintingdownat thewitnessstand."Can't tellyet,"hesaid."She'sgotenoughsensetogetthejudgesorryforher,butshemightbejust-oh,Idon'tknow."

Mollified,MayellagaveAtticusafinalterrifiedglanceandsaidtoMr.Gilmer,"Wellsir,Iwasontheporchand-andhecamealongand,yousee, therewas thisoldchiffarobe in theyardPapa'dbroughtintochopupforkindlin'-PapatoldmetodoitwhilehewasoffinthewoodsbutIwadn'tfeelin'strongenoughthen,sohecameby-"

"Whois'he'?"

Mayella pointed to Tom Robinson. "I'll have to ask you to bemorespecific,please,"saidMr.Gilmer."Thereportercan'tputdowngesturesverywell."

"That'nyonder,"shesaid."Robinson."

"Thenwhathappened?"

"Isaidcomehere,nigger,andbustupthischiffarobeforme,Igottanickelforyou.Hecouldadoneiteasyenough,hecould.Sohecomeintheyardan'IwentinthehousetogethimthenickelandIturnedaroundan'foreIknewithewasonme.Justrunupbehindme,hedid.Hegotme round theneck, cussin'mean'sayin'dirt-Ifought'n'hollered,buthehadmeroundtheneck.Hehitmeaginan'agin-"

Mr.GilmerwaitedforMayellatocollectherself:shehadtwistedher handkerchief into a sweaty rope; when she opened it towipeherfaceitwasamassofcreasesfromherhothands.Shewaited for Mr. Gilmer to ask another question, but when hedidn't,shesaid,"-hechunkedmeontheflooran'chokedme'ntookadvantageofme."

"Didyouscream?"askedMr.Gilmer."Didyouscreamandfightback?"

"ReckonIdid,holleredforallIwasworth,kickedandholleredloudasIcould."

"Thenwhathappened?"

"Idon'tremembertoogood,butnextthingIknewPapawasintherooma'standingovermehollerin'whodoneit,whodoneit?Then I sorta fainted an' the next thing I knew Mr. Tate waspullin'meupoffathefloorandleadin'metothewaterbucket."

ApparentlyMayella'srecitalhadgivenherconfidence,butitwasnotherfather'sbrashkind:therewassomethingstealthyabouthers,likeasteady-eyedcatwithatwitchytail.

"Yousayyoufoughthimoffashardasyoucould?Foughthimtoothandnail?"askedMr.Gilmer.

"Ipositivelydid,"Mayellaechoedherfather.

"Youarepositivethathetookfulladvantageofyou?"

Mayella's face contorted, and I was afraid that shewould cryagain.Instead,shesaid,"Hedonewhathewasafter."

Mr. Gilmer called attention to the hot day bywiping his headwithhishand."That'sallforthetimebeing,"hesaidpleasantly,"but you stay there. I expect big bad Mr. Finch has somequestionstoaskyou."

"State will not prejudice the witness against counsel for thedefense,"murmured Judge Taylor primly, "at least not at thistime."

Atticus got up grinning but instead of walking to the witnessstand,heopenedhis coatandhookedhis thumbs inhisvest,then he walked slowly across the room to the windows. Helooked out, but didn't seem especially interested in what hesaw, then he turned and strolled back to the witness stand.From long years of experience, I could tell he was trying to

cometoadecisionaboutsomething.

"MissMayella,"hesaid,smiling,"Iwon'ttrytoscareyouforawhile,notyet.Let'sjustgetacquainted.Howoldareyou?"

"Said I was nineteen, said it to the judge yonder." Mayellajerkedherheadresentfullyatthebench.

"Soyoudid, so youdid,ma'am.You'll have tobearwithme,MissMayella,I'mgettingalongandcan'trememberaswellasIusedto.Imightaskyouthingsyou'vealreadysaidbefore,butyou'llgivemeananswer,won'tyou?Good."

I could see nothing inMayella's expression to justify Atticus'sassumptionthathehadsecuredherwholeheartedcooperation.Shewaslookingathimfuriously.

"Won't answer a word you say long as you keep on mockin'me,"shesaid.

"Ma'am?"askedAtticus,startled.

"Long'syoukeeponmakin'funo'me."

JudgeTaylorsaid, "Mr.Finch isnotmaking funofyou.What'sthematterwithyou?"

Mayella looked fromunder lowered eyelids atAtticus, but shesaid to the judge: "Long's he keeps on callin' me ma'am ansayin' Miss Mayella. I don't hafta take his sass, I ain't calledupontotakeit."

Atticusresumedhisstroll to thewindowsand let JudgeTaylorhandle this one. Judge Taylor was not the kind of figure thatever evokedpity, but I did feel a pang for himashe tried toexplain. "That's justMr. Finch'sway," he toldMayella. "We'vedonebusinessinthiscourtforyearsandyears,andMr.Finchisalways courteous to everybody. He's not trying tomock you,he'stryingtobepolite.That'sjusthisway."

The judge leaned back. "Atticus, let's get on with theseproceedings,and let therecordshowthat thewitnesshasnotbeensassed,herviewstothecontrary."

Iwondered if anybody had ever called her "ma'am," or "MissMayella"inherlife;probablynot,asshetookoffensetoroutinecourtesy.Whatonearthwasherlifelike?Isoonfoundout.

"Yousayyou'renineteen,"Atticusresumed."Howmanysistersandbrothershaveyou?"Hewalkedfromthewindowsbacktothestand.

"Seb'm," she said, and I wondered if they were all like thespecimenIhadseenthefirstdayIstartedtoschool.

"Youtheeldest?Theoldest?"

"Yes."

"Howlonghasyourmotherbeendead?"

"Don'tknow-longtime."

"Didyouevergotoschool?"

"Read'n'writegoodasPapayonder."

MayellasoundedlikeaMr.JingleinabookIhadbeenreading.

"Howlongdidyougotoschool?"

"Twoyear-threeyear-dunno."

Slowly but surely I began to see the pattern of Atticus'squestions: from questions that Mr. Gilmer did not deemsufficiently irrelevant or immaterial to object to, Atticus wasquietlybuildingupbeforethejuryapictureoftheEwells'homelife.Thejurylearnedthefollowingthings:theirreliefcheckwasfar from enough to feed the family, and there was strong

suspicionthatPapadrankitupanyway-hesometimeswentoffin theswamp fordaysandcamehomesick; theweatherwasseldom cold enough to require shoes, but when it was, youcould make dandy ones from strips of old tires; the familyhauled itswater in buckets froma spring that ran out at oneendofthedump-theykeptthesurroundingareaclearoftrash-anditwaseverybodyforhimselfasfaraskeepingcleanwent:ifyouwantedtowashyouhauledyourownwater;theyoungerchildrenhadperpetualcoldsandsufferedfromchronicground-itch;therewasaladywhocamearoundsometimesandaskedMayella why she didn't stay in school- she wrote down theanswer;with twomembers of the family reading andwriting,therewasnoneedfortherestof themto learn-Papaneededthemathome.

"Miss Mayella," said Atticus, in spite of himself, "a nineteen-year-oldgirllikeyoumusthavefriends.Whoareyourfriends?"

Thewitnessfrownedasifpuzzled."Friends?"

"Yes, don't you know anyone near your age, or older, oryounger?Boysandgirls?Justordinaryfriends?"

Mayella's hostility, which had subsided to grudging neutrality,flaredagain."Youmakin'funo'meagin,Mr.Finch?"

Atticusletherquestionanswerhis.

"Doyouloveyourfather,MissMayella?"washisnext.

"Lovehim,whatchamean?"

"Imean,ishegoodtoyou,isheeasytogetalongwith?"

"Hedoestollable,'ceptwhen-"

"Exceptwhen?"

Mayella looked at her father, who was sitting with his chair

tippedagainsttherailing.Hesatupstraightandwaitedforhertoanswer.

"Exceptwhennothin',"saidMayella."Isaidhedoestollable."

Mr.Ewellleanedbackagain.

"Except when he's drinking?" asked Atticus so gently thatMayellanodded.

"Doesheevergoafteryou?"

"Howyoumean?"

"Whenhe's-riled,hasheeverbeatenyou?"

Mayella looked around, down at the court reporter, up at thejudge."Answerthequestion,MissMayella,"saidJudgeTaylor.

"My paw's never touched a hair o'my head in my life," shedeclaredfirmly."Henevertouchedme."

Atticus'sglasseshadslippedalittle,andhepushedthemuponhis nose. "We've had a good visit, Miss Mayella, and now Iguess we'd better get to the case. You say you asked TomRobinsontocomechopupa-whatwasit?"

"Achiffarobe,aolddresserfullofdrawersononeside."

"WasTomRobinsonwellknowntoyou?"

"Whaddyamean?"

"Imeandidyouknowwhohewas,wherehelived?"

Mayellanodded. "I knowedwhohewas,hepassed thehouseeveryday."

"Was this the first time you asked him to come inside thefence?"

Mayellajumpedslightlyatthequestion.Atticuswasmakinghisslow pilgrimage to the windows, as he had been doing: hewouldaskaquestion,thenlookout,waitingforananswer.Hedidnotseeherinvoluntaryjump,butitseemedtomethatheknew she had moved. He turned around and raised hiseyebrows."Was-"hebeganagain.

"Yesitwas."

"Didn'tyoueveraskhimtocomeinsidethefencebefore?"

Shewaspreparednow."Ididnot,Icertainlydidnot."

"Onedidnot'senough,"saidAtticusserenely."Youneveraskedhimtodooddjobsforyoubefore?"

"I mighta," conceded Mayella. "There was several niggersaround."

"Canyourememberanyotheroccasions?"

"No."

"All right,now towhathappened.YousaidTomRobinsonwasbehindyouintheroomwhenyouturnedaround,thatright?"

"Yes."

"Yousaidhe'gotyouaroundtheneckcussingandsayingdirt'-isthatright?"

"'t'sright."

Atticus'smemoryhadsuddenlybecomeaccurate."Yousay 'hecaughtmeandchokedmeandtookadvantageofme'- is thatright?"

"That'swhatIsaid."

"Doyourememberhimbeatingyouabouttheface?"

Thewitnesshesitated.

"Youseemsureenough thathe chokedyou.All this timeyouwerefightingback,remember?You'kickedandholleredasloudas you could.' Do you remember him beating you about theface?

"

Mayellawassilent.Sheseemed tobe trying togetsomethingcleartoherself.IthoughtforamomentshewasdoingMr.HeckTate'sandmytrickofpretendingtherewasapersoninfrontofus.SheglancedatMr.Gilmer.

"It's an easy question,MissMayella, so I'll try again. Do yourememberhimbeatingyouabouttheface?"Atticus'svoicehadlostitscomfortableness;hewasspeakinginhisarid,detachedprofessional voice. "Do you remember him beating you abouttheface?"

"No,Idon'trecollectifhehitme.ImeanyesIdo,hehitme."

"Wasyourlastsentenceyouranswer?"

"Huh? Yes, he hit- I just don't remember, I just don'tremember...itallhappenedsoquick."

Judge Taylor looked sternly at Mayella. "Don't you cry, youngwoman-"hebegan,butAtticussaid, "Lethercry if shewantsto,Judge.We'vegotallthetimeintheworld."

MayellasniffedwrathfullyandlookedatAtticus."I'llansweranyquestion you got- getme up here an'mockme,will you? I'llansweranyquestionyougot-"

"That's fine," said Atticus. "There're only a few more. MissMayella,not tobe tedious, you've testified that thedefendant

hit you, grabbed you around the neck, choked you, and tookadvantage of you. I want you to be sure you have the rightman.Willyouidentifythemanwhorapedyou?"

"Iwill,that'shimrightyonder."

Atticus turned to the defendant. "Tom, stand up. Let MissMayella have a good long look at you. Is this theman, MissMayella?"

TomRobinson'spowerfulshouldersrippledunderhisthinshirt.Herosetohisfeetandstoodwithhisrighthandonthebackofhischair.He lookedoddlyoffbalance,but itwasnot fromtheway he was standing. His left arm was fully twelve inchesshorterthanhisright,andhungdeadathisside.Itendedinasmall shriveled hand, and from as far away as the balcony Icouldseethatitwasnousetohim.

"Scout,"breathedJem."Scout,look!Reverend,he'scrippled!"

ReverendSykes leanedacrossmeandwhispered to Jem. "Hegotitcaughtinacottongin,caughtitinMr.DolphusRaymond'scottonginwhenhewasaboy...liketobledtodeath...toreallthemusclesloosefromhisbones-"

Atticussaid,"Isthisthemanwhorapedyou?"

"Itmostcertainlyis."

Atticus'snextquestionwasonewordlong."How?"

Mayellawasraging."Idon'tknowhowhedoneit,buthedoneit-IsaiditallhappenedsofastI-"

"Now let'sconsider thiscalmly-"beganAtticus,butMr.Gilmerinterrupted with an objection: he was not irrelevant orimmaterial,butAtticuswasbrowbeatingthewitness.

JudgeTaylorlaughedoutright."Ohsitdown,Horace,he'sdoing

nothing of the sort. If anything, the witness's browbeatingAtticus."

Judge Taylor was the only person in the courtroom wholaughed.Eventhebabieswerestill,andIsuddenlywonderediftheyhadbeensmotheredattheirmothers'breasts.

"Now," said Atticus, "Miss Mayella, you've testified that thedefendantchokedandbeatyou-youdidn'tsaythathesneakedup behind you and knocked you cold, but you turned aroundand therehewas-"Atticuswasbackbehindhis table, andheemphasizedhiswordsby tappinghis knuckles on it. "-do youwishtoreconsideranyofyourtestimony?"

"Youwantmetosaysomethingthatdidn'thappen?"

"Noma'am,Iwantyoutosaysomethingthatdidhappen.Tellusoncemore,please,whathappened?"

"Itold'jawhathappened."

"You testified that you turned around and there he was. Hechokedyouthen?"

"Yes."

"Thenhereleasedyourthroatandhityou?"

"Isaidhedid."

"Heblackedyourlefteyewithhisrightfist?"

"Iduckedandit-itglanced,that'swhatitdid.Iduckedanditglancedoff."Mayellahadfinallyseenthelight.

"You'rebecomingsuddenlyclearonthispoint.Awhileagoyoucouldn'tremembertoowell,couldyou?"

"Isaidhehitme."

"All right.Hechokedyou,hehityou, thenherapedyou, thatright?"

"Itmostcertainlyis."

"You're a strong girl, what were you doing all the time, juststandingthere?"

"Itold'jaIhollered'n'kicked'n'fought-"

Atticus reached up and took off his glasses, turned his goodright eye to the witness, and rained questions on her. JudgeTaylorsaid,"Onequestionatatime,Atticus.Givethewitnessachancetoanswer."

"Allright,whydidn'tyourun?"

"Itried..."

"Triedto?Whatkeptyoufromit?"

"I-heslungmedown.That'swhathedid,heslungmedown'ngotontopofme."

"Youwerescreamingallthistime?"

"Icertainlywas."

"Then why didn't the other children hear you? Where werethey?Atthedump?"

"Wherewerethey?"

Noanswer.

"Why didn't your screams make them come running? Thedump'scloserthanthewoods,isn'tit?"

Noanswer.

"Ordidn'tyouscreamuntilyousawyourfatherinthewindow?Youdidn'tthinktoscreamuntilthen,didyou?"

Noanswer.

"DidyouscreamfirstatyourfatherinsteadofatTomRobinson?Wasthatit?"

Noanswer.

"Whobeatyouup?TomRobinsonoryourfather?"

Noanswer

.

"Whatdidyour fathersee inthewindow,thecrimeofrapeorthebestdefensetoit?Whydon'tyoutellthetruth,child,didn'tBobEwellbeatyouup?"

When Atticus turned away from Mayella he looked like hisstomach hurt, but Mayella's facewas amixture of terror andfury.Atticussatdownwearilyandpolishedhisglasseswithhishandkerchief.

SuddenlyMayella became articulate. "I got somethin' to say,"shesaid.

Atticus raised his head. "Do you want to tell us whathappened?"

But she did not hear the compassion in his invitation. "I gotsomethin' to say an' then I ain't gonna say no more. Thatnigger yonder took advantage of me an' if you fine fancygentlemendon'twantadonothin'aboutitthenyou'reallyellowstinkin'cowards,stinkin'cowards,thelotofyou.Yourfancyairsdon'tcometonothin'-yourma'amin'andMissMayellerin'don'tcometonothin',Mr.Finch-"

Thensheburstintorealtears.Hershouldersshookwithangrysobs. She was as good as her word. She answered no morequestions, evenwhenMr.Gilmer tried to get her back on thetrack. I guess if shehadn't been sopoor and ignorant, JudgeTaylorwouldhaveputherunder the jail for thecontemptshehadshowneverybodyinthecourtroom.Somehow,Atticushadhitherhardinawaythatwasnotcleartome,butitgavehimnopleasure todoso.Hesatwithhisheaddown,andIneversawanybodyglareat anyonewith thehatredMayella showedwhensheleftthestandandwalkedbyAtticus'stable.

WhenMr.GilmertoldJudgeTaylorthatthestaterested,JudgeTaylorsaid,"It'stimewealldid.We'lltaketenminutes."

AtticusandMr.Gilmermetinfrontofthebenchandwhispered,then they left the courtroom by a door behind the witnessstand,whichwasasignalforusalltostretch.IdiscoveredthatI had been sitting on the edge of the long bench, and I wassomewhatnumb.Jemgotupandyawned,Dilldidlikewise,andReverendSykeswipedhisfaceonhishat.Thetemperaturewasaneasyninety,hesaid.

Mr.BraxtonUnderwood,whohadbeensittingquietlyinachairreservedforthePress,soakinguptestimonywithhisspongeofabrain,allowedhisbittereyestoroveoverthecoloredbalcony,andtheymetmine.Hegaveasnortandlookedaway.

"Jem,"Isaid,"Mr.Underwood'sseenus."

"That'sokay.Hewon'ttellAtticus,he'lljustputitonthesocialside of the Tribune." Jem turned back to Dill, explaining, Isuppose, the finer points of the trial to him, but I wonderedwhat theywere. There had beenno lengthy debates betweenAtticusandMr.Gilmeronanypoints;Mr.Gilmerseemedtobeprosecutingalmost reluctantly;witnesseshadbeen ledby thenose as asses are, with few objections. But Atticus had oncetoldusthatinJudgeTaylor'scourtanylawyerwhowasastrictconstructionist on evidence usually wound up receiving strict

instructions from the bench. He distilled this forme tomeanthatJudgeTaylormightlooklazyandoperateinhissleep,buthewasseldomreversed,andthatwastheproofofthepudding.Atticussaidhewasagoodjudge.

PresentlyJudgeTaylorreturnedandclimbedintoh

isswivelchair.Hetookacigarfromhisvestpocketandexamineditthoughtfully.IpunchedDill.Havingpassedthejudge'sinspection,thecigarsufferedaviciousbite."Wecomedownsometimestowatchhim,"Iexplained."It'sgonnatakehimtherestoftheafternoon,now.Youwatch."Unawareofpublicscrutinyfromabove,JudgeTaylordisposedoftheseveredendbypropellingitexpertlytohislipsandsaying,"Fhluck!"Hehitaspittoonsosquarelywecouldhearitslosh."Bethewashellwithaspitball,"murmuredDill.

Asa rule,a recessmeantageneralexodus,but todaypeopleweren't moving. Even the Idlers who had failed to shameyoungermenfromtheirseatshadremainedstandingalongthewalls.IguessMr.HeckTatehadreservedthecountytoilet forcourtofficials.

AtticusandMr.Gilmerreturned,andJudgeTaylorlookedathiswatch."It'sgettin'ontofour,"hesaid,whichwasintriguing,asthecourthouseclockmusthavestruckthehouratleasttwice.Ihadnothearditorfeltitsvibrations.

"Shall we try to wind up this afternoon?" asked Judge Taylor."How'boutit,Atticus?"

"Ithinkwecan,"saidAtticus.

"Howmanywitnessesyougot?"

"One."

"Well,callhim."

19

ThomasRobinsonreachedaround,ranhisfingersunderhisleftarmandliftedit.HeguidedhisarmtotheBibleandhisrubber-like left hand sought contact with the black binding. As heraisedhisrighthand,theuselessoneslippedofftheBibleandhit the clerk's table. He was trying again when Judge Taylorgrowled,"That'lldo,Tom."Tomtooktheoathandsteppedintothewitnesschair.Atticusveryquicklyinducedhimtotellus:

Tomwas twenty-fiveyearsof age;hewasmarriedwith threechildren;hehadbeen in troublewith the lawbefore:heoncereceivedthirtydaysfordisorderlyconduct.

"Itmusthavebeendisorderly,"saidAtticus."Whatdiditconsistof?"

"Gotinafightwithanotherman,hetriedtocutme."

"Didhesucceed?"

"Yessuh,a little,notenoughtohurt.Yousee,I-"Tommovedhisleftshoulder.

"Yes,"saidAtticus."Youwerebothconvicted?"

"Yes suh, I had to serve 'cause I couldn't pay the fine.Otherfellowpaidhis'n."

Dill leanedacrossmeandasked JemwhatAtticuswasdoing.JemsaidAtticuswasshowingthejurythatTomhadnothingtohide.

"WereyouacquaintedwithMayellaVioletEwell?"askedAtticus.

"Yes suh, I had to pass her place goin' to and from the fieldeveryday."

"Whosefield?"

"IpicksforMr.LinkDeas."

"WereyoupickingcottoninNovember?"

"Nosuh,Iworksinhisyardfallan'wintertime.Iworksprettysteady for him all year round, he's got a lot of pecan trees'nthings."

"You say you had to pass the Ewell place to get to and fromwork.Isthereanyotherwaytogo?"

"Nosuh,none'sIknowof."

"Tom,didsheeverspeaktoyou?"

"Why,yessuh, I'd tipm'hatwhenI'dgoby,andonedaysheaskedmetocomeinsidethefenceandbustupachiffarobeforher."

"Whendidsheaskyoutochopupthe-thechiffarobe?"

"Mr.Finch,itwaswaylastspring.Irememberitbecauseitwaschoppin' timeand Ihadmyhoewithme. I said Ididn'thavenothin'butthishoe,butshesaidshehadahatchet.Shegiveme the hatchet and I broke up the chiffarobe. She said, 'Ireckon I'll hafta give you a nickel, won't I?' an' I said, 'Noma'am, there ain't no charge.' Then I went home. Mr. Finch,thatwaswaylastspring,wayoverayearago."

"Didyouevergoontheplaceagain?"

"Yessuh."

"When?"

"Well,Iwentlotsoftimes."

JudgeTaylorinstinctivelyreachedforhisgavel,butlethishandfall.Themurmurbelowusdiedwithouthishelp.

"Underwhatcircumstances?"

"Please,suh?"

"Whydidyougoinsidethefencelotsoftimes?"

Tom Robinson's forehead relaxed. "She'd call me in, suh.Seemed like every time I passed by yonder she'd have somelittlesomethin' forme todo-choppin'kindlin', totin'water forher.Shewateredthemredflowerseveryday-"

"Wereyoupaidforyourservices?"

"Nosuh,notaftersheofferedmeanickelthefirsttime.Iwasglad to do it, Mr. Ewell didn't seem to help her none, andneitherdidthechillun,andIknowedshedidn'thavenonickelstospare."

"Whereweretheotherchildren?"

"Theywasalwaysaround,allovertheplace.They'dwatchmework,someof'em,someof'em'dsetinthewindow."

"WouldMissMayellatalktoyou?"

"Yessir,shetalkedtome."

AsTomRobinsongavehistestimony,itcametomethatMayellaEwell must have been the loneliest person in the world. ShewasevenlonelierthanBooRadley,whohadnotbeenoutofthehouse in twenty-five years. When Atticus asked had she anyfriends, she seemed not to know what he meant, then shethoughthewasmakingfunofher.Shewasassad,Ithought,aswhat Jemcalledamixedchild:whitepeoplewouldn'thave

anythingtodowithherbecauseshelivedamongpigs;Negroeswouldn'thaveanythingtodowithherbecauseshewaswhite.Shecouldn't live likeMr.DolphusRaymond,whopreferredthecompanyofNegroes, because shedidn't owna riverbankandshewasn'tfromafineoldfamily.Nobodysaid,"That'sjusttheirway,"abouttheEwells.MaycombgavethemChristmasbaskets,welfare money, and the back of its hand. Tom Robinson wasprobablytheonlypersonwhowaseverdecenttoher.Butshesaid he took advantage of her, and when she stood up shelookedathimasifheweredirtbeneathherfeet.

"Did you ever," Atticus interrupted my meditations, "at anytime, go on the Ewell property- did you ever set foot on theEwellpropertywithoutanexpressinvitationfromoneofthem?"

"Nosuh,Mr.Finch,Ineverdid.Iwouldn'tdothat,suh."

Atticussometimessaid thatonewaytotellwhetherawitnesswaslyingortellingthetruthwastolistenratherthanwatch:Iappliedhis test- Tomdenied it three times inonebreath,butquietly,withnohintofwhininginhisvoice,andIfoundmyselfbelievinghiminspiteofhisprotestingtoomuch.Heseemedtobea respectableNegro,anda respectableNegrowouldnevergoupintosomebody'syardofhisownvolition.

"Tom, what happened to you on the evening of Novembertwenty-firstoflastyear?"

Below us, the spectators drew a collective breath and leanedforward.Behindus,theNegroesdidthesame.

Tomwasablack-velvetNegro,notshiny,butsoftblackvelvet.Thewhitesofhiseyesshoneinhisface,andwhenhespokewesawflashesofhisteeth.Ifhehadbeenwhole,hewouldhavebeenafinespecimenofaman.

"Mr.Finch,"hesaid,"Iwasgoin'homeasusualthatevenin',an'whenIpassedtheEwellplaceMissMayellawereontheporch,

like she said shewere. It seemed real quiet like, an' I didn'tquiteknowwhy.Iwasstudyin'why, justpassin'by,whenshesaysformetocomethereandhelpheraminute.Well,Iwentinsidethefencean'lookedaroundforsomekindlin'toworkon,but Ididn'tseenone,andshesays, 'Naw,Igotsomethin' foryou to do in the house. Th' old door's off its hinges an' fall'scomin' on pretty fast.' I said you got a screwdriver, MissMayella?Shesaidshesho'had.Well, Iwentup thestepsan'shemotionedmetocomeinside,andIwentinthefrontrooman' looked at the door. I said Miss Mayella, this door look allright. I pulled it back'n forth and those hinges was all right.Thensheshetthedoor inmyface.Mr.Finch,Iwaswonderin'whyitwassoquietlike,an'itcometomethatthereweren'tachileon theplace,notaoneof 'em,and I saidMissMayella,wherethechillun?"

Tom'sblackvelvetskinhadbeguntoshine,andheranhishandoverhisface.

"Isaywherethechillun?"hecontinued,"an'shesays-shewaslaughin', sort of- she says they all gone to town to get icecreams.Shesays, 'tookmeaslapyeartosaveseb'mnickels,butIdoneit.Theyallgonetotown.'"

Tom'sdiscomfortwasnotfromthehumidity."Whatdidyousaythen,Tom?"askedAtticus.

"Isaidsomethin'like,whyMissMayella,that'srightsmarto'youto treat 'em. An' she said, 'You think so?' I don't think sheunderstoodwhatIwasthinkin'-Imeantitwassmartofhertosavelikethat,an'niceofhertotreatem."

"Iunderstandyou,Tom.Goon,"saidAtticus.

"Well,IsaidIbestbegoin',Icouldn'tdonothin'forher,an'shesaysohyes I could, an' I askherwhat, and she says to juststeponthatchairyonderan'gitthatboxdownfromontopofthechiffarobe."

"Notthesamechiffarobeyoubustedup?"askedAtticus.

Thewitnesssmiled."Nawsuh,anotherone.Mostastallastheroom.SoIdonewhatshetoldme,an'Iwasjustreachin'whenthenextthingIknowsshe-she'dgrabbedmeroundthelegs,grabbedmeroundth' legs,Mr.Finch.ShescaredmesobadIhoppeddownan'turnedthechairover-thatwastheonlything,onlyfurniture,'sturbedinthatroom,Mr.Finch,whenIleftit.Iswear'foreGod."

"Whathappenedafteryouturnedthechairover?"

TomRobinsonhadcometoadeadstop.HeglancedatAtticus,thenatthejury,thenatMr.Underwoodsittingacrosstheroom.

"Tom,you'resworntotellthewholetruth.Willyoutellit?"

Tomranhishandnervouslyoverhismouth.

"Whathappenedafterthat?"

"Answerthequestion,"saidJudgeTaylor.One-thirdofhiscigarhadvanished.

"Mr.Finch,Igotdownoffathatchairan'turnedaroundan'shesortajumpedonme."

"Jumpedonyou?Violently?"

"No suh, she- she hugged me. She hugged me round thewaist."

ThistimeJudgeTaylor'sgavelcamedownwithabang,andasitdidtheoverheadlightswentoninthecourtroom.Darknesshadnot come, but the afternoon sun had left thewindows. JudgeTaylorquicklyrestoredorder.

"Thenwhatdidshedo?"

vThewitnessswallowedhard."Shereachedupan'kissedme'sideofth'face.Shesayssheneverkissedagrownmanbeforean'shemightaswellkissanigger.Shesayswhatherpapadotoherdon'tcount.Shesays,'Kissmeback,nigger.'IsayMissMayellalemmeoutaherean'triedtorunbutshegotherbacktothedooran'I'dahadtopushher.Ididn'twantaharmher,Mr.Finch,an'Isaylemmepass,butjustwhenIsayitMr.Ewellyonderholleredthroughth'window."

"Whatdidhesay?"

Tom Robinson swallowed again, and his eyes widened."Somethin'not fittin' tosay-not fittin' for these folks'nchilluntohear-"

"Whatdidhesay,Tom?Youmusttellthejurywhathesaid."

vTomRobinsonshuthiseyestight."Hesaysyougoddamnwhore,I'llkillya."

"Thenwhathappened?"

"Mr.Finch,Iwasrunnin'sofastIdidn'tknowwhathappened."

"Tom,didyourapeMayellaEwell?"

"Ididnot,suh."

"Didyouharmherinanyway?"

"Ididnot,suh."

"Didyouresistheradvances?"

"Mr. Finch, I tried. I tried to 'thout bein' ugly to her. I didn'twantabeugly,Ididn'twantapushherornothin'."

It occurred to me that in their own way, Tom Robinson'smannerswereasgoodasAtticus's.Untilmyfatherexplainedit

to me later, I did not understand the subtlety of Tom'spredicament: he would not have dared strike a white womanunderanycircumstancesandexpecttolivelong,sohetookthefirstopportunitytorun-asuresignofguilt.

"Tom,gobackoncemoretoMr.Ewell,"saidAtticus."Didhesayanythingtoyou?"

"Not anything, suh. He mighta said somethin', but I weren'tthere-"

"That'lldo,"Atticuscutinsharply."Whatyoudidhear,whowashetalkingto?"

"Mr.Finch,heweretalkin'andlookin'atMissMayella."

"Thenyouran?"

"Isho'did,suh."

"Whydidyourun?"

"Iwasscared,suh."

"Whywereyouscared?"

"Mr.Finch,ifyouwasaniggerlikeme,you'dbescared,too."

Atticussatdown.Mr.Gilmerwasmakinghiswaytothewitnessstand, but before he got there Mr. Link Deas rose from theaudienceandannounced:

"Ijustwantthewholelotofyoutoknowonethingrightnow.That boy'sworked forme eight years an' I ain't had a specko'troubleoutahim.Notaspeck."

"Shut your mouth, sir!" Judge Taylor was wide awake androaring. He was also pink in the face. His speech wasmiraculouslyunimpairedbyhiscigar."LinkDeas,"heyelled,"if

youhaveanythingyouwant tosayyoucansay itunderoathandatthepropertime,butuntilthenyougetoutofthisroom,you hearme? Get out of this room, sir, you hearme? I'll bedamnedifI'lllistentothiscaseagain!"

Judge Taylor looked daggers at Atticus, as if daring him tospeak,butAtticushadduckedhisheadandwas laughing intohis lap. I remembered something he had said about JudgeTaylor'sexcathedraremarkssometimesexceedinghisduty,butthatfewlawyerseverdidanythingaboutthem.IlookedatJem,butJemshookhishead."Itain'tlikeoneofthejurymengotupandstartedtalking,"hesaid."Ithinkit'dbedifferentthen.Mr.Linkwasjustdisturbin'thepeaceorsomething."

Judge Taylor told the reporter to expunge anything hehappened to havewritten down after Mr. Finch if youwere anigger like me you'd be scared too, and told the jury todisregard the interruption. He looked suspiciously down themiddleaisleandwaited,Isuppose, forMr.LinkDeastoeffecttotaldeparture.Thenhesaid,"Goahead,Mr.Gilmer."

"You were given thirty days once for disorderly conduct,Robinson?"askedMr.Gilmer.

"Yessuh."

"What'dtheniggerlooklikewhenyougotthroughwithhim?"

"Hebeatme,Mr.Gilmer."

"Yes,butyouwereconvicted,weren'tyou?"

Atticus raisedhishead."Itwasamisdemeanorand it's in therecord,Judge."Ithoughthesoundedtired.

"Witness'llanswer,though,"saidJudgeTaylor,justaswearily.

"Yessuh,Igotthirtydays."

IknewthatMr.GilmerwouldsincerelytellthejurythatanyonewhowasconvictedofdisorderlyconductcouldeasilyhavehaditinhishearttotakeadvantageofMayellaEwell,thatwastheonlyreasonhecared.Reasonslikethathelped.

"Robinson, you're pretty good at busting up chiffarobes andkindlingwithonehand,aren'tyou?"

"Yes,suh,Ireckonso."

"Strongenoughtochokethebreathoutofawomanandslinghertothefloor?"

"Ineverdonethat,suh."

"Butyouarestrongenoughto?"

"Ireckonso,suh."

"Hadyoureyeonheralongtime,hadn'tyou,boy?"

"Nosuh,Ineverlookedather."

"Then you were mighty polite to do all that chopping andhaulingforher,weren'tyou,boy?"

"Iwasjusttryin'tohelpherout,suh."

"That was mighty generous of you, you had chores at homeafteryourregularwork,didn'tyou?"

"Yessuh."

"Whydidn'tyoudotheminsteadofMissEwell's?"

"Idone'emboth,suh."

"Youmusthavebeenprettybusy.Why?"

"Whywhat,suh?"

"Whywereyousoanxioustodothatwoman'schores?"

TomRobinsonhesitated,searching forananswer."Looked likeshedidn'thavenobodytohelpher,likeIsays-"

"WithMr.Ewellandsevenchildrenontheplace,boy?"

"Well,Isaysitlookedliketheyneverhelphernone-"

"Youdidallthischoppingandworkfromsheergoodness,boy?"

"Triedtohelpher,Isays."

Mr. Gilmer smiled grimly at the jury. "You're a mighty goodfellow,itseems-didallthisfornotonepenny?"

"Yes, suh. I felt right sorry forher, she seemed to trymore'ntherestof'em-"

"You felt sorry for her, you felt sorry for her?" Mr. Gilmerseemedreadytorisetotheceiling.

Thewitness realized hismistake and shifted uncomfortably inthe chair. But the damage was done. Below us, nobody likedTomRobinson'sanswer.Mr.Gilmerpausedalongtimetoletitsinkin.

"Nowyouwentby thehouseasusual, lastNovember twenty-first," he said, "and she asked you to come in and bust up achiffarobe?"

"Nosuh."

"Doyoudenythatyouwentbythehouse?"

"No suh- she said she had somethin' forme to do inside thehouse-"

"Shesayssheaskedyoutobustupachiffarobe,isthatright?"

"Nosuh,itain't."

"Thenyousayshe'slying,boy?"

Atticuswasonhis feet,butTomRobinsondidn'tneedhim. "Idon't say she's lyin', Mr. Gilmer, I say she's mistaken in hermind."

To the next ten questions, as Mr. Gilmer reviewed Mayella'sversion of events, the witness's steady answer was that shewasmistakeninhermind.

"Didn'tMr.Ewellrunyouofftheplace,boy?"

"Nosuh,Idon'tthinkhedid."

"Don'tthink,whatdoyoumean?"

"ImeanIdidn'tstaylongenoughforhimtorunmeoff."

"You'reverycandidaboutthis,whydidyourunsofast?"

"IsaysIwasscared,suh."

"Ifyouhadaclearconscience,whywereyouscared?"

"LikeIsaysbefore,itweren'tsafeforanyniggertobeina-fixlikethat."

"Butyouweren't ina fix-youtestifiedthatyouwereresistingMissEwell.Wereyousoscaredthatshe'dhurtyou,youran,abigbucklikeyou?"

"Nosuh,I'sscaredI'dbeincourt,justlikeIamnow."

"Scared of arrest, scared you'd have to face up to what youdid?"

"Nosuh,scaredI'dhaftafaceuptowhatIdidn'tdo."

"Areyoubeingimpudenttome,boy?"

"Nosuh,Ididn'tgotobe."

ThiswasasmuchasIheardofMr.Gilmer'scross-examination,becauseJemmademetakeDillout.ForsomereasonDillhadstartedcryingandcouldn'tstop;quietlyat first, thenhissobswereheardbyseveralpeopleinthebalcony.JemsaidifIdidn'tgowithhimhe'dmakeme,andReverendSykessaidI'dbettergo,soIwent.Dillhadseemedtobeallrightthatday,nothingwrongwithhim,but Iguessedhehadn't fully recovered fromrunningaway.

"Ain'tyoufeelinggood?"Iasked,whenwereachedthebottomofthestairs.

Dill tried to pull himself together as we ran down the southsteps. Mr. Link Deas was a lonely figure on the top step."Anythinghappenin',Scout?"heaskedaswewentby."Nosir,"Iansweredovermyshoulder."Dillhere,he'ssick."

"Comeonoutunderthetrees,"Isaid."Heatgotyou,Iexpect."Wechosethefattestliveoakandwesatunderit.

"ItwasjusthimIcouldn'tstand,"Dillsaid.

"Who,Tom?"

"That oldMr. Gilmer doin' him thataway, talking so hateful tohim-"

"Dill,that'shisjob.Why,ifwedidn'thaveprosecutors-well,wecouldn'thavedefenseattorneys,Ireckon."

Dillexhaledpatiently."Iknowallthat,Scout.Itwasthewayhesaiditmademesick,plainsick."

"He'ssupposedtoactthatway,Dill,hewascross-"

"Hedidn'tactthatwaywhen-"

"Dill,thosewerehisownwitnesses."

"Well, Mr. Finch didn't act that way to Mayella and old manEwellwhenhecross-examinedthem.Thewaythatmancalledhim'boy'allthetimean'sneeredathim,an'lookedaroundatthejuryeverytimeheanswered-"

"Well,Dill,afterallhe'sjustaNegro."

"Idon'tcareonespeck.Itain'tright,somehowitain'trighttodo 'em thatway.Hasn't anybodygot any business talkin' likethat-itjustmakesmesick."

"That's just Mr. Gilmer's way, Dill, he does 'em all that way.You'veneverseenhimgetgood'ndownononeyet.Why,when-well,todayMr.Gilmerseemedtomelikehewasn'thalftrying.Theydo'emallthatway,mostlawyers,Imean."

"Mr.Finchdoesn't."

"He'snotanexample,Dill,he's-" Iwas trying togrope inmymemoryforasharpphraseofMissMaudieAtkinson's.Ihadit:"He'sthesameinthecourtroomasheisonthepublicstreets."

"That'snotwhatImean,"saidDill.

"I know what you mean, boy," said a voice behind us. Wethought it came from the tree-trunk, but it belonged to Mr.Dolphus Raymond. He peered around the trunk at us. "Youaren'tthin-hided,itjustmakesyousick,doesn'tit?"

20

"Comeon roundhere, son, I got something that'll settle yourstomach."

As Mr. Dolphus Raymond was an evil man I accepted hisinvitation reluctantly, but I followed Dill. Somehow, I didn'tthink Atticus would like it if we became friendly with Mr.Raymond,andIknewAuntAlexandrawouldn't.

"Here," he said, offering Dill his paper sackwith straws in it."Takeagoodsip,it'llquietenyou."

Dillsuckedonthestraws,smiled,andpulledatlength.

"Hee hee," said Mr. Raymond, evidently taking delight incorruptingachild.

"Dill,youwatchout,now,"Iwarned.

Dill released the straws and grinned. "Scout, it's nothing butCoca-Cola."

Mr.Raymondsatupagainstthetree-trunk.Hehadbeen lyingonthegrass."Youlittlefolkswon'ttellonmenow,willyou?It'druinmyreputationifyoudid."

"You mean all you drink in that sack's Coca-Cola? Just plainCoca-Cola?"

"Yesma'am,"Mr.Raymondnodded.I likedhissmell: itwasofleather, horses, cottonseed. He wore the only English ridingbootsIhadeverseen."That'sallIdrink,mostofthetime."

"Thenyou justpretendyou'rehalf-? Ibegyourpardon,sir," I

caughtmyself."Ididn'tmeantobe-"

Mr.Raymondchuckled,notatalloffended,andItriedtoframeadiscreetquestion:"Whydoyoudolikeyoudo?"

"Wh- oh yes, you mean why do I pretend? Well, it's verysimple,"hesaid."Somefolksdon't- likethewayI live.NowIcouldsaythehellwith'em,Idon'tcareiftheydon'tlikeit.Idosay Idon't care if theydon't like it, rightenough-but Idon'tsaythehellwith'em,see?"

DillandIsaid,"Nosir."

"I trytogive 'emareason,yousee.Ithelps folks if theycanlatchontoareason.WhenIcometotown,whichisseldom,ifIweavealittleanddrinkoutofthissack,folkscansayDolphusRaymond's in the clutches of whiskey- that's why he won'tchangehisways.Hecan'thelphimself,that'swhyhelivesthewayhedoes."

"Thatain'thonest,Mr.Raymond,makingyourselfoutbadder'nyouarealready-"

"It ain't honest but it'smighty helpful to folks. Secretly, MissFinch,I'mnotmuchofadrinker,butyouseetheycouldnever,neverunderstandthatI livelikeIdobecausethat'sthewayIwanttolive."

Ihada feeling that I shouldn'tbehere listening to this sinfulmanwhohadmixedchildrenanddidn'tcarewhoknewit,buthe was fascinating. I had never encountered a being whodeliberatelyperpetratedfraudagainsthimself.Butwhyhadheentrusteduswithhisdeepestsecret?Iaskedhimwhy.

"Becauseyou're childrenandyou canunderstand it," he said,"andbecauseIheardthatone-"

HejerkedhisheadatDill:"Thingshaven'tcaughtupwiththatone'sinstinctyet.Lethimgetalittleolderandhewon'tgetsick

and cry. Maybe things'll strike him as being- not quite right,say,buthewon'tcry,notwhenhegetsafewyearsonhim."

"Cryaboutwhat,Mr.Raymond?"Dill'smalenesswasbeginningtoassertitself.

"Cry about the simple hell people give other people- withouteven thinking. Cry about the hell white people give coloredfolks,withoutevenstoppingtothinkthatthey'repeople,too."

"Atticus says cheatin' a coloredman is ten times worse thancheatin' a whiteman," I muttered. "Says it's the worst thingyoucando."

Mr. Raymond said, "I don't reckon it's- Miss Jean Louise, youdon'tknowyourpa'snotarun-of-the-millman,it'lltakeafewyearsforthattosinkin-youhaven'tseenenoughoftheworldyet. You haven't even seen this town, but all you gotta do isstepbackinsidethecourthouse."

Which reminded me that we were missing nearly all of Mr.Gilmer's cross-examination. I looked at the sun, and it wasdropping fast behind the store-tops on the west side of thesquare.Betweentwofires,IcouldnotdecidewhichIwantedtojump into: Mr. Raymond or the 5th Judicial Circuit Court."C'mon,Dill,"Isaid."Youallright,now?"

"Yeah. Glad t've metcha, Mr. Raymond, and thanks for thedrink,itwasmightysettlin'."

Weracedbacktothecourthouse,upthesteps,uptwoflightsofstairs, and edged our way along the balcony rail. ReverendSykeshadsavedourseats.

Thecourtroomwasstill,andagainIwonderedwherethebabieswere. JudgeTaylor's cigarwasabrownspeck in thecenterofhismouth;Mr.Gilmerwaswritingononeoftheyellowpadsonhis table, trying to outdo the court reporter,whose handwas

jerkingrapidly."Shoot,"Imuttered,"wemissedit."

Atticus was halfway through his speech to the jury. He hadevidently pulled some papers from his briefcase that restedbesidehischair,becausetheywereonhistable.TomRobinsonwastoyingwiththem.

"...absence of any corroborative evidence, this man wasindictedonacapitalchargeandisnowontrialforhislife...."

IpunchedJem."Howlong'shebeenatit?"

"He'sjustgoneovertheevidence,"Jemwhispered,"andwe'regonna win, Scout. I don't see how we can't. He's been at it'bout fiveminutes.Hemade it as plain and easy as-well, asI'daexplainedittoyou.Youcould'veunderstoodit,even."

"DidMr.Gilmer-?"

"Sh-h.Nothingnew,justtheusual.Hushnow."

We looked down again. Atticus was speaking easily, with thekind of detachment he used when he dictated a letter. Hewalked slowly up and down in front of the jury, and the juryseemedtobeattentive:theirheadswereup,andtheyfollowedAtticus'sroutewithwhatseemedtobeappreciation.IguessitwasbecauseAtticuswasn'tathunderer.

Atticuspaused, thenhedid somethinghedidn't ordinarilydo.Heunhitchedhiswatchandchainandplacedthemonthetable,saying,"Withthecourt'spermission-"

Judge Taylor nodded, and then Atticus did something I neversaw him do before or since, in public or in private: heunbuttonedhisvest,unbuttonedhiscollar,loosenedhistie,andtookoffhiscoat.Heneverloosenedascrapofhisclothinguntilhe undressed at bedtime, and to Jem and me, this was theequivalent of him standing before us stark naked. Weexchangedhorrifiedglances.

Atticusputhishandsinhispockets,andashereturnedtothejury, I saw his gold collar button and the tips of his pen andpencilwinkinginthelight.

"Gentlemen," he said. Jem and I again looked at each other:Atticusmighthavesaid, "Scout."Hisvoicehad lost itsaridity,itsdetachment,andhewastalkingtothejuryas if theywerefolksonthepostofficecorner.

"Gentlemen,"hewassaying,"Ishallbebrief,butIwouldliketousemyremainingtimewithyoutoremindyouthatthiscaseisnotadifficultone, it requiresnominutesiftingofcomplicatedfacts,butitdoesrequireyoutobesurebeyondallreasonabledoubtastotheguiltofthedefendant.Tobeginwith,thiscaseshouldneverhavecometotrial.Thiscaseisassimpleasblackandwhite.

"Thestatehasnotproducedoneiotaofmedicalevidencetotheeffect that the crime TomRobinson is chargedwith ever tookplace.Ithasreliedinsteaduponthetestimonyoftwowitnesseswhoseevidencehasnotonlybeencalled intoseriousquestionon cross-examination, but has been flatly contradicted by thedefendant. The defendant is not guilty, but somebody in thiscourtroomis.

"Ihavenothingbutpityinmyheartforthechiefwitnessforthestate, butmypity doesnot extend so far as to her putting aman'slifeatstake,whichshehasdoneinanefforttogetridofherownguilt.

"Isayguilt,gentlemen,becauseitwasguiltthatmotivatedher.Shehascommittednocrime,shehasmerelybrokenarigidandtime-honored code of our society, a code so severe thatwhoever breaks it is hounded from ourmidst as unfit to livewith. She is the victim of cruel poverty and ignorance, but Icannotpityher:sheiswhite.Sheknewfullwelltheenormityofher offense, but because her desires were stronger than the

code she was breaking, she persisted in breaking it. Shepersisted,andhersubsequentreactionissomethingthatallofushaveknownatonetimeoranother.Shedidsomethingeverychild has done- she tried to put the evidence of her offenseawayfromher.But inthiscaseshewasnochildhidingstolencontraband:shestruckoutathervictim-ofnecessityshemustput him away from her- he must be removed from herpresence, from this world. Shemust destroy the evidence ofheroffense.

"Whatwastheevidenceofheroffense?TomRobinson,ahumanbeing. She must put Tom Robinson away from her. TomRobinsonwasherdailyreminderofwhatshedid.Whatdidshedo?ShetemptedaNegro.

"Shewaswhite,andshetemptedaNegro.Shedidsomethingthatinoursocietyisunspeakable:shekissedablackman.NotanoldUncle,butastrongyoungNegroman.Nocodematteredto her before she broke it, but it came crashing downon herafterwards.

"Her father saw it, and the defendant has testified as to hisremarks.Whatdidher fatherdo?Wedon'tknow,but there iscircumstantial evidence to indicate that Mayella Ewell wasbeaten savagely by someone who led almost exclusively withhisleft.WedoknowinpartwhatMr.Ewelldid:hedidwhatanyGod-fearing, persevering, respectable white man would dounder the circumstances- he swore out a warrant, no doubtsigningitwithhislefthand,andTomRobinsonnowsitsbeforeyou, having taken the oath with the only good hand hepossesses-hisrighthand.

"And so a quiet, respectable, humble Negro who had theunmitigatedtemerityto'feelsorry'forawhitewomanhashadtoputhiswordagainst twowhitepeople's. Ineednotremindyou of their appearance and conduct on the stand- you sawthem for yourselves. The witnesses for the state, with theexception of the sheriff of Maycomb County, have presented

themselves to you gentlemen, to this court, in the cynicalconfidencethattheirtestimonywouldnotbedoubted,confidentthat you gentlemen would go along with them on theassumption- the evil assumption- that all Negroes lie, that allNegroes are basically immoral beings, that all Negromen arenot to be trusted around our women, an assumption oneassociateswithmindsoftheircaliber.

"Which,gentlemen,weknow is in itself a lie asblackasTomRobinson's skin, a lie I do not have to point out to you. Youknowthe truth,and the truth is this:someNegroes lie,someNegroes are immoral, someNegromen are not to be trustedaroundwomen-blackorwhite.Butthisisatruththatappliestothehumanraceandtonoparticularraceofmen.Thereisnotaperson in this courtroom who has never told a lie, who hasneverdonean immoral thing,and there isnoman livingwhohasneverlookeduponawomanwithoutdesire."

Atticuspausedandtookouthishandkerchief.Thenhetookoffhisglassesandwipedthem,andwesawanother"first":wehadneverseenhimsweat-hewasoneof thosemenwhose facesneverperspired,butnowitwasshiningtan.

"Onemore thing, gentlemen, before I quit. Thomas Jeffersononce said that all men are created equal, a phrase that theYankees and the distaff side of the Executive branch inWashingtonarefondofhurlingatus.Thereisatendencyinthisyearofgrace,1935,forcertainpeopletousethisphraseoutofcontext,tosatisfyallconditions.ThemostridiculousexampleIcan think of is that the people who run public educationpromotethestupidandidlealongwiththeindustrious-becauseallmenare created equal, educatorswill gravely tell you, thechildren left behind suffer terrible feelings of inferiority. Weknowallmenarenotcreatedequal in thesensesomepeoplewouldhaveus believe- somepeople are smarter thanothers,somepeoplehavemoreopportunitybecausethey'rebornwithit,somemenmakemoremoneythanothers,someladiesmakebettercakes thanothers-somepeopleareborngiftedbeyond

thenormalscopeofmostmen.

"But there is one way in this country in which all men arecreated equal- there is one human institution that makes apaupertheequalofaRockefeller, thestupidmantheequalofan Einstein, and the ignorant man the equal of any collegepresident.Thatinstitution,gentlemen,isacourt.ItcanbetheSupremeCourtoftheUnitedStatesorthehumblestJ.P.courtintheland,orthishonorablecourtwhichyouserve.Ourcourtshave their faults, as does any human institution, but in thiscountryourcourtsarethegreat levelers,and inourcourtsallmenarecreatedequal.

"I'mno idealist to believe firmly in the integrity of our courtsand in the jury system- that is no ideal tome, it is a living,workingreality.Gentlemen,acourtisnobetterthaneachmanofyousittingbeforemeonthisjury.Acourtisonlyassoundasitsjury,andajuryisonlyassoundasthemenwhomakeitup.Iamconfidentthatyougentlemenwill reviewwithoutpassiontheevidenceyouhaveheard,cometoadecision,andrestorethisdefendanttohisfamily.InthenameofGod,doyourduty."

Atticus's voice had dropped, and as he turned away from thejury he said something I did not catch. He said it more tohimselfthantothecourt.IpunchedJem."What'dhesay?"

"'InthenameofGod,believehim,'Ithinkthat'swhathesaid."

Dill suddenly reached over me and tugged at Jem. "Lookayonder!"

We followed his finger with sinking hearts. Calpurnia wasmaking her way up the middle aisle, walking straight towardAtticus.

21

She stopped shyly at the railing and waited to get JudgeTaylor'sattention.Shewasinafreshapronandshecarriedanenvelopeinherhand.

JudgeTaylorsawherandsaid,"It'sCalpurnia,isn'tit?"

"Yes sir," she said. "Could I just pass this note to Mr. Finch,pleasesir?Ithasn'tgotanythingtodowith-withthetrial."

Judge Taylor nodded and Atticus took the envelope fromCalpurnia.Heopened it, read itscontentsandsaid,"Judge,I-thisnote is frommysister.Shesaysmychildrenaremissing,haven'tturnedupsincenoon...I...couldyou-"

"I know where they are, Atticus." Mr. Underwood spoke up."They're right up yonder in the colored balcony- been theresincepreciselyone-eighteenP.M."

Our father turned around and looked up. "Jem, come downfromthere,"hecalled.ThenhesaidsomethingtotheJudgewedidn't hear.We climbedacrossReverendSykesandmadeourwaytothestaircase.

Atticus and Calpurnia met us downstairs. Calpurnia lookedpeeved,butAtticuslookedexhausted.

Jemwasjumpinginexcitement."We'vewon,haven'twe?"

"I've no idea," said Atticus shortly. "You've been here allafternoon?GohomewithCalpurnia andget your supper- andstayhome."

"Aw, Atticus, let us come back," pleaded Jem. "Please let us

heartheverdict,pleasesir."

"Thejurymightbeoutandbackinaminute,wedon'tknow-"butwe could tell Atticuswas relenting. "Well, you've heard itall, so youmight aswell hear the rest. Tell youwhat, youallcan come back when you've eaten your supper- eat slowly,now,youwon'tmissanything important-and if the jury's stillout,youcanwaitwithus.ButIexpectit'llbeoverbeforeyougetback."

"Youthinkthey'llacquithimthatfast?"askedJem.

Atticusopenedhismouthtoanswer,butshutitandleftus.

IprayedthatReverendSykeswouldsaveourseatsforus,butstoppedprayingwhenIrememberedthatpeoplegotupandleftin droveswhen the jurywas out- tonight, they'd overrun thedrugstore,theO.K.Cafeandthehotel,thatis,unlesstheyhadbroughttheirsupperstoo.

Calpurniamarchedushome:"-skineveryoneofyoualive,thevery idea, you children listenin' to all that! Mister Jem, don'tyou know better'n to take your little sister to that trial? MissAlexandra'llabsolutelyhaveastrokeofparalysiswhenshefindsout!Ain'tfittin'forchildrentohear...."

Thestreetlightswereon,andweglimpsedCalpurnia'sindignantprofileaswepassedbeneaththem."MisterJem,Ithoughtyouwasgettin'somekindaheadonyourshoulders-theveryidea,she's your little sister! The very idea, sir! You oughta beperfectlyashamedofyourself-ain'tyougotanysenseatall?"

Iwasexhilarated.SomanythingshadhappenedsofastIfeltitwouldtakeyearstosortthemout,andnowherewasCalpurniagivingherprecious Jemdown the country-whatnewmarvelswouldtheeveningbring?

Jemwaschuckling."Don'tyouwanttohearaboutit,Cal?"

"Hushyourmouth,sir!Whenyououghtabehangin'yourheadinshameyougoalong laughin'-"CalpurniarevivedaseriesofrustythreatsthatmovedJemto littleremorse,andshesailedupthefrontstepswithherclassic,"IfMr.Finchdon'twearyouout,Iwill-getinthathouse,sir!"

Jem went in grinning, and Calpurnia nodded tacit consent tohavingDillintosupper."YouallcallMissRachelrightnowandtell her where you are," she told him. "She's run distractedlookin' for you- you watch out she don't ship you back toMeridianfirstthinginthemornin'."

AuntAlexandrametusandnearly faintedwhenCalpurniatoldherwherewewere.IguessithurtherwhenwetoldherAtticussaidwe could go back, because she didn't say aword duringsupper. She just rearranged food on her plate, looking at itsadly while Calpurnia served Jem, Dill and me with avengeance.Calpurniapouredmilk,dishedoutpotatosaladandham,muttering,"'shamedofyourselves,"invaryingdegreesofintensity."Nowyoualleatslow,"washerfinalcommand.

Reverend Sykes had saved our places. We were surprised tofind thatwehadbeengonenearly anhour, andwere equallysurprised to find thecourtroomexactlyaswehad left it,withminor changes: the jury box was empty, the defendant wasgone; Judge Taylor had been gone, but he reappeared as wewereseatingourselves.

"Nobody'smoved,hardly,"saidJem.

"They moved around some when the jury went out," saidReverendSykes. "Themenfolk down there got thewomenfolktheirsuppers,andtheyfedtheirbabies."

"Howlonghavetheybeenout?"askedJem.

"'bout thirtyminutes.Mr.FinchandMr.Gilmerdidsomemoretalkin',andJudgeTaylorchargedthejury."

"Howwashe?"askedJem.

"Whatsay?Oh,hedidrightwell.Iain'tcomplainin'onebit-hewasmightyfair-minded.Hesortasaidifyoubelievethis,thenyou'llhavetoreturnoneverdict,but ifyoubelievethis,you'llhavetoreturnanotherone.Ithoughthewasleanin'alittletoourside-"ReverendSykesscratchedhishead.

Jem smiled. "He's not supposed to lean, Reverend, but don'tfret, we've won it," he said wisely. "Don't see how any jurycouldconvictonwhatweheard-"

"Nowdon'tyoubesoconfident,Mr.Jem,Iain'teverseenanyjurydecideinfavorofacoloredmanoverawhiteman...."ButJemtookexceptiontoReverendSykes,andweweresubjectedtoalengthyreviewoftheevidencewithJem'sideasonthelawregardingrape:itwasn'trapeifsheletyou,butshehadtobeeighteen- in Alabama, that is- and Mayella was nineteen.Apparently you had to kick and holler, you had to beoverpoweredandstompedon,preferablyknockedstonecold.Ifyouwereundereighteen,youdidn'thavetogothroughallthis.

"Mr. Jem,"ReverendSykesdemurred, "thisain'tapolite thingforlittleladiestohear..."

"Aw, she doesn't know what we're talkin' about," said Jem."Scout,thisistoooldforyou,ain'tit?"

"It most certainly is not, I know every word you're saying."Perhaps Iwas tooconvincing,because Jemhushedandneverdiscussedthesubjectagain.

"Whattimeisit,Reverend?"heasked.

"Gettin'ontowardeight."

IlookeddownandsawAtticusstrollingaroundwithhishandsinhispockets:hemadeatourofthewindows,thenwalkedbytherailing over to the jury box. He looked in it, inspected Judge

Taylor on his throne, then went back to where he started. Icaughthiseyeandwavedtohim.Heacknowledgedmysalutewithanod,andresumedhistour.

Mr. Gilmer was standing at the windows talking to Mr.Underwood.Bert,thecourtreporter,waschain-smoking:hesatbackwithhisfeetonthetable.

But the officers of the court, the ones present- Atticus, Mr.Gilmer,JudgeTaylorsoundasleep,andBert,weretheonlyoneswhose behavior seemed normal. I had never seen a packedcourtroom so still. Sometimes a baby would cry out fretfully,and a child would scurry out, but the grown people sat as iftheywereinchurch.Inthebalcony,theNegroessatandstoodarounduswithbiblicalpatience.

The old courthouse clock suffered its preliminary strain andstruckthehour,eightdeafeningbongsthatshookourbones.

When it bonged eleven times I was past feeling: tired fromfighting sleep, I allowedmyself a short nap against ReverendSykes's comfortable arm and shoulder. I jerked awake andmade an honest effort to remain so, by looking down andconcentrating on the heads below: there were sixteen baldones, fourteenmen that could pass for redheads, forty headsvarying between brown and black, and- I rememberedsomething Jem had once explained to me when he wentthroughabriefperiodofpsychicalresearch:hesaid ifenoughpeople- a stadium full, maybe- were to concentrate on onething, suchas settinga tree afire in thewoods, that the treewould igniteof itsownaccord.Itoyedwiththe ideaofaskingeveryone below to concentrate on setting Tom Robinson free,butthoughtiftheywereastiredasI,itwouldn'twork.

Dillwassoundasleep,hisheadonJem'sshoulder,andJemwasquiet.

"Ain'titalongtime?"Iaskedhim.

"Sureis,Scout,"hesaidhappily.

"Well,fromthewayyouputit,it'djusttakefiveminutes."

Jem raised his eyebrows. "There are things you don'tunderstand,"hesaid,andIwastoowearytoargue.

But Imusthavebeen reasonablyawake,or Iwouldnothavereceivedthe impressionthatwascreeping intome.Itwasnotunlike one I had lastwinter, and I shivered, though thenightwas hot. The feeling grew until the atmosphere in thecourtroomwas exactly the same as a cold Februarymorning,when the mockingbirds were still, and the carpenters hadstopped hammering on Miss Maudie's new house, and everywooddoor intheneighborhoodwasshutastightasthedoorsoftheRadleyPlace.Adeserted,waiting,emptystreet,andthecourtroomwaspackedwithpeople.A steaming summernightwasnodifferentfromawintermorning.Mr.HeckTate,whohadentered the courtroomandwas talking toAtticus,mighthavebeen wearing his high boots and lumber jacket. Atticus hadstopped his tranquil journey and had put his foot onto thebottom rung of a chair; as he listened to what Mr. Tate wassaying, he ran his hand slowly up and down his thigh. IexpectedMr.Tatetosayanyminute,"Takehim,Mr.Finch...."

ButMr.Tatesaid,"Thiscourtwillcometoorder,"inavoicethatrangwithauthority,andtheheadsbelowusjerkedup.Mr.TatelefttheroomandreturnedwithTomRobinson.HesteeredTomtohisplacebesideAtticus, and stood there. JudgeTaylorhadrousedhimselftosuddenalertnessandwassittingupstraight,lookingattheemptyjurybox.

Whathappenedafterthathadadreamlikequality:inadreamIsaw the jury return, moving like underwater swimmers, andJudge Taylor's voice came from far away andwas tiny. I sawsomethingonlyalawyer'schildcouldbeexpectedtosee,couldbeexpectedtowatchfor,anditwaslikewatchingAtticuswalkintothestreet,raisearifletohisshoulderandpullthetrigger,

butwatchingallthetimeknowingthatthegunwasempty.

A jury never looks at a defendant it has convicted, andwhenthisjurycamein,notoneofthemlookedatTomRobinson.TheforemanhandedapieceofpapertoMr.Tatewhohandedittotheclerkwhohandedittothejudge....

I shut my eyes. Judge Taylor was polling the jury: "Guilty...guilty...guilty...guilty..."IpeekedatJem:hishandswerewhitefrom gripping the balcony rail, and his shoulders jerked as ifeach"guilty"wasaseparatestabbetweenthem.

Judge Taylor was saying something. His gavel was in his fist,buthewasn'tusingit.Dimly,IsawAtticuspushingpapersfromthe table into his briefcase. He snapped it shut, went to thecourt reporter and said something, nodded toMr.Gilmer, andthenwent to TomRobinson andwhispered something to him.AtticusputhishandonTom'sshoulderashewhispered.Atticustook his coat off the back of his chair and pulled it over hisshoulder.Thenheleftthecourtroom,butnotbyhisusualexit.Hemust havewanted to go home the shortway, because hewalkedquicklydown themiddleaisle toward the southexit. Ifollowedthetopofhisheadashemadehiswaytothedoor.Hedidnotlookup.

Someonewaspunchingme,butIwasreluctanttotakemyeyesfrom the people below us, and from the image of Atticus'slonelywalkdowntheaisle.

"MissJeanLouise?"

I lookedaround.Theywerestanding.Allaroundusandinthebalconyontheoppositewall,theNegroesweregettingtotheirfeet.ReverendSykes'svoicewasasdistantasJudgeTaylor's:

"MissJeanLouise,standup.Yourfather'spassin'."

22

ItwasJem'sturntocry.Hisfacewasstreakedwithangrytearsaswemadeourwaythroughthecheerfulcrowd."Itain'tright,"hemuttered,allthewaytothecornerofthesquarewherewefound Atticus waiting. Atticus was standing under the streetlight looking as though nothing had happened: his vest wasbuttoned, his collar and tie were neatly in place, his watch-chainglistened,hewashisimpassiveselfagain.

"Itain'tright,Atticus,"saidJem.

"Noson,it'snotright."

Wewalkedhome.

AuntAlexandrawaswaitingup.Shewasinherdressinggown,and I could have sworn she had on her corset underneath it."I'msorry,brother,"shemurmured.HavingneverheardhercallAtticus"brother"before,IstoleaglanceatJem,buthewasnotlistening.Hewould lookupatAtticus, thendownat the floor,andIwondered ifhethoughtAtticussomehowresponsible forTomRobinson'sconviction.

"Isheallright?"Auntyasked,indicatingJem.

"He'll be sopresently," saidAtticus. "Itwasa little too strongforhim."Our father sighed. "I'mgoing tobed," he said. "If Idon'twakeupinthemorning,don'tcallme."

"Ididn'tthinkitwiseinthefirstplacetoletthem-"

"This is their home, sister," said Atticus. "We've made it thiswayforthem,theymightaswelllearntocopewithit."

"Buttheydon'thavetogotothecourthouseandwallowinit-"

"It'sjustasmuchMaycombCountyasmissionaryteas."

"Atticus-"AuntAlexandra'seyeswereanxious."YouarethelastpersonIthoughtwouldturnbitteroverthis."

"I'mnotbitter,justtired.I'mgoingtobed."

"Atticus-"saidJembleakly.

Heturnedinthedoorway."What,son?"

"Howcouldtheydoit,howcouldthey?"

"Idon'tknow,buttheydidit.They'vedoneitbeforeandtheydidittonightandthey'lldoitagainandwhentheydoit-seemsthatonlychildrenweep.Goodnight."

Butthingsarealwaysbetterinthemorning.AtticusroseathisusualungodlyhourandwasinthelivingroombehindtheMobileRegisterwhenwe stumbled in. Jem'smorning face posed thequestionhissleepylipsstruggledtoask.

"It'snottimetoworryyet,"Atticusreassuredhim,aswewentto the diningroom. "We're not through yet. There'll be anappeal, you can count on that. Gracious alive, Cal, what's allthis?"Hewasstaringathisbreakfastplate.

Calpurnia said, "Tom Robinson's daddy sent you along thischickenthismorning.Ifixedit."

"YoutellhimI'mproudtogetit-bettheydon'thavechickenforbreakfastattheWhiteHouse.Whatarethese?"

"Rolls,"saidCalpurnia."Estelledownatthehotelsent'em."

Atticuslookedupather,puzzled,andshesaid,"Youbetterstepouthereandseewhat'sinthekitchen,Mr.Finch."

We followed him. The kitchen table was loaded with enoughfood to bury the family: hunksof salt pork, tomatoes, beans,even scuppernongs. Atticus grinned when he found a jar ofpickledpigs'knuckles."ReckonAunty'll letmeeattheseinthediningroom?"

Calpurniasaid,"Thiswasall 'roundthebackstepswhenIgotherethismorning.They-they'preciatewhatyoudid,Mr.Finch.They-theyaren'toversteppin'themselves,arethey?"

Atticus'seyesfilledwithtears.Hedidnotspeakforamoment."TellthemI'mverygrateful,"hesaid."Tellthem-tellthemtheymustneverdothisagain.Timesaretoohard...."

Heleftthekitchen,wentinthediningroomandexcusedhimselftoAuntAlexandra,putonhishatandwenttotown.

We heard Dill's step in the hall, so Calpurnia left Atticus'suneatenbreakfastonthetable.Betweenrabbit-bitesDilltoldusofMissRachel'sreactiontolastnight,whichwas:ifamanlikeAtticusFinchwantstobutthisheadagainstastonewallit'shishead.

"I'dagothertold,"growledDill,gnawingachickenleg,"butshedidn't lookmuchliketellin'thismorning.Saidshewasuphalfthe night wonderin' where I was, said she'da had the sheriffaftermebuthewasatthehearing."

"Dill,you'vegottostopgoin'offwithouttellin'her,"saidJem."Itjustaggravatesher."

Dillsighedpatiently."ItoldhertillIwasblueinthefacewhereIwasgoin'-she'sjustseein'toomanysnakesinthecloset.Betthat woman drinks a pint for breakfast everymorning- knowshedrinkstwoglassesfull.Seenher."

"Don't talk like that, Dill," said Aunt Alexandra. "It's notbecomingtoachild.It's-cynical."

"Iain'tcynical,MissAlexandra.Tellin'thetruth'snotcynical,isit?"

"Thewayyoutellit,itis."

Jem'seyesflashedather,buthesaidtoDill,"Let'sgo.Youcantakethatrunnerwithyou."

Whenwewenttothefrontporch,MissStephanieCrawfordwasbusy telling it to Miss Maudie Atkinson and Mr. Avery. Theylooked around at us and went on talking. Jem made a feralnoiseinhisthroat.Iwishedforaweapon.

"I hate grown folks lookin' at you," saidDill. "Makes you feellikeyou'vedonesomething."

MissMaudieyelledforJemFinchtocomethere.

Jemgroanedandheavedhimselfup fromtheswing."We'llgowithyou,"Dillsaid.

Miss Stephanie's nose quivered with curiosity. She wanted toknowwhoallgaveuspermissiontogotocourt-shedidn'tseeus but it was all over town thismorning thatwewere in theColored balcony. Did Atticus put us up there as a sort of-?Wasn't it right close up there with all those-? Did Scoutunderstand all the-? Didn't itmake usmad to see our daddybeat?

"Hush,Stephanie."MissMaudie'sdictionwasdeadly. "I'venotgotallthemorningtopassontheporch-JemFinch,Icalledtofindoutifyouandyourcolleaguescaneatsomecake.Gotupatfivetomakeit,soyoubettersayyes.Excuseus,Stephanie.Goodmorning,Mr.Avery."

There was a big cake and two little ones on Miss Maudie'skitchentable.Thereshouldhavebeenthree littleones.ItwasnotlikeMissMaudietoforgetDill,andwemusthaveshownit.Butweunderstoodwhen she cut from thebig cake andgave

theslicetoJem.

Asweate,wesensedthatthiswasMissMaudie'swayofsayingthatasfarasshewasconcerned,nothinghadchanged.Shesatquietlyinakitchenchair,watchingus.

Suddenlyshespoke:"Don'tfret,Jem.Thingsareneverasbadastheyseem."

Indoors, when Miss Maudie wanted to say something lengthyshespreadherfingersonherkneesandsettledherbridgework.Thisshedid,andwewaited.

"Isimplywanttotellyouthattherearesomemeninthisworldwhowereborn todoourunpleasant jobs forus.Your father'soneofthem."

"Oh,"saidJem."Well."

"Don't you oh well me, sir," Miss Maudie replied, recognizingJem's fatalistic noises, "you are not old enough to appreciatewhatIsaid."

Jem was staring at his half-eaten cake. "It's like bein' acaterpillar in a cocoon, that's what it is," he said. "Likesomethin'asleepwrappedupinawarmplace.IalwaysthoughtMaycomb folks were the best folks in the world, least that'swhattheyseemedlike."

"We're thesafest folks in theworld,"saidMissMaudie."We'resorarelycalledontobeChristians,butwhenweare,we'vegotmenlikeAtticustogoforus."

Jem grinned ruefully. "Wish the rest of the county thoughtthat."

"You'dbesurprisedhowmanyofusdo."

"Who?" Jem's voice rose. "Who in this town did one thing to

helpTomRobinson,justwho?"

"Hiscoloredfriendsforonething,andpeoplelikeus.PeoplelikeJudge Taylor. People likeMr. Heck Tate. Stop eating and startthinking, Jem.Did iteverstrikeyou that JudgeTaylornamingAtticustodefendthatboywasnoaccident?ThatJudgeTaylormighthavehadhisreasonsfornaminghim?"

This was a thought. Court-appointed defenses were usuallygiven toMaxwellGreen,Maycomb's latest addition to thebar,who needed the experience. Maxwell Green should have hadTomRobinson'scase.

"You think about that," Miss Maudie was saying. "It was noaccident. Iwassittin' thereon theporch lastnight,waiting. Iwaitedandwaitedtoseeyouallcomedownthesidewalk,andasIwaitedIthought,AtticusFinchwon'twin,hecan'twin,buthe's the onlyman in these partswho can keep a jury out solong in a case like that. And I thought tomyself, well, we'remakingastep-it'sjustababy-step,butit'sastep."

"'t's all right to talk like that- can't any Christian judges an'lawyersmakeup forheathen juries," Jemmuttered. "Soon's Igetgrown-"

"That'ssomethingyou'llhavetotakeupwithyourfather,"MissMaudiesaid.

WewentdownMissMaudie'scoolnewsteps intothesunshineand found Mr. Avery and Miss Stephanie Crawford still at it.Theyhadmoveddownthesidewalkandwerestandinginfrontof Miss Stephanie's house. Miss Rachel was walking towardthem.

"IthinkI'llbeaclownwhenIgetgrown,"saidDill.

JemandIstoppedinourtracks.

"Yessir,aclown,"hesaid."Thereain'tonethinginthisworldI

candoabout folks except laugh, so I'mgonna join the circusandlaughmyheadoff."

"Yougotitbackwards,Dill,"saidJem."Clownsaresad,it'sfolksthatlaughatthem."

"WellI'mgonnabeanewkindofclown.I'mgonnastandinthemiddleoftheringandlaughatthefolks.Justlookayonder,"hepointed. "Everyoneof 'emoughtabe ridin'broomsticks.AuntRachelalreadydoes."

MissStephanieandMissRachelwerewavingwildlyatus, inawaythatdidnotgivethelietoDill'sobservation.

"Ohgosh,"breathedJem."Ireckonit'dbeuglynottosee'em."

Something was wrong. Mr. Avery was red in the face from asneezing spell and nearly blew us off the sidewalk when wecame up. Miss Stephanie was trembling with excitement, andMissRachelcaughtDill'sshoulder."Yougetoninthebackyardandstaythere,"shesaid."There'sdangera'comin'."

"'smatter?"Iasked.

"Ain'tyouheardyet?It'sallovertown-"

AtthatmomentAuntAlexandracametothedoorandcalledus,but shewas too late. ItwasMiss Stephanie's pleasure to tellus: this morning Mr. Bob Ewell stopped Atticus on the postoffice corner, spat in his face, and told him he'd get him if ittooktherestofhislife.

23

"IwishBobEwellwouldn'tchewtobacco,"wasallAtticussaidaboutit.

According to Miss Stephanie Crawford, however, Atticus wasleavingthepostofficewhenMr.Ewellapproachedhim,cursedhim, spat on him, and threatened to kill him.Miss Stephanie(who,bythetimeshehadtoldittwicewasthereandhadseenit all- passing by from the Jitney Jungle, she was)- MissStephanie said Atticus didn't bat an eye, just took out hishandkerchief and wiped his face and stood there and let Mr.Ewellcallhimnameswildhorsescouldnotbringhertorepeat.Mr.Ewellwasaveteranofanobscurewar; thatplusAtticus'speacefulreactionprobablypromptedhimtoinquire,"Tooproudtofight,younigger-lovin'bastard?"MissStephaniesaidAtticussaid,"No,tooold,"puthishandsinhispocketsandstrolledon.Miss Stephanie said you had to hand it to Atticus Finch, hecouldberightdrysometimes.

JemandIdidn'tthinkitentertaining.

"After all, though," I said, "he was the deadest shot in thecountyonetime.Hecould-"

"You know hewouldn't carry a gun, Scout. He ain't even gotone-"saidJem."Youknowhedidn'tevenhaveonedownatthejailthatnight.Hetoldmehavin'agunaround'saninvitationtosomebodytoshootyou."

"Thisisdifferent,"Isaid."Wecanaskhimtoborrowone."

Wedid,andhesaid,"Nonsense."

DillwasoftheopinionthatanappealtoAtticus'sbetternature

mightwork: after all,wewould starve ifMr. Ewell killed him,besides be raised exclusively by Aunt Alexandra, and we allknew the first thing she'd do before Atticus was under thegroundgoodwouldbetofireCalpurnia.JemsaiditmightworkifIcriedandflungafit,beingyoungandagirl.Thatdidn'tworkeither.

Butwhenhenoticedusdraggingaroundtheneighborhood,noteating, taking little interest in our normal pursuits, Atticusdiscovered how deeply frightened we were. He tempted Jemwithanewfootballmagazineonenight;whenhesawJemflipthe pages and toss it aside, he said, "What's bothering you,son?"

Jemcametothepoint:"Mr.Ewell."

"Whathashappened?"

"Nothing's happened.We're scared for you, andwe think yououghtadosomethingabouthim."

Atticussmiledwryly."Dowhat?Puthimunderapeacebond?"

"Whenamansayshe'sgonnagetyou,lookslikehemeansit."

"Hemeantitwhenhesaidit,"saidAtticus."Jem,seeifyoucanstandinBobEwell'sshoesaminute.Idestroyedhislastshredofcredibilityatthattrial,ifhehadanytobeginwith.Themanhadtohavesomekindofcomeback,hiskindalwaysdoes.SoifspittinginmyfaceandthreateningmesavedMayellaEwelloneextrabeating,that'ssomethingI'llgladlytake.HehadtotakeitoutonsomebodyandI'dratheritbemethanthathousefulofchildrenoutthere.Youunderstand?"

Jemnodded.

Aunt Alexandra entered the room as Atticus was saying, "Wedon'thaveanythingtofearfromBobEwell,hegotitalloutofhissystemthatmorning."

"Iwouldn'tbesosureofthat,Atticus,"shesaid."Hiskind'ddoanythingtopayoffagrudge.Youknowhowthosepeopleare."

"WhatonearthcouldEwelldotome,sister?"

"Something furtive," Aunt Alexandra said. "Youmay count onthat."

"Nobody hasmuch chance to be furtive inMaycomb," Atticusanswered.

Afterthat,wewerenotafraid.Summerwasmeltingaway,andwemadethemostofit.Atticusassuredusthatnothingwouldhappen to Tom Robinson until the higher court reviewed hiscase,andthatTomhadagoodchanceofgoingfree,oratleastof having a new trial.Hewas at Enfield Prison Farm, seventymilesawayinChesterCounty.IaskedAtticusifTom'swifeandchildrenwereallowedtovisithim,butAtticussaidno.

"Ifheloseshisappeal,"Iaskedoneevening,"what'llhappentohim?"

"He'll go to the chair," said Atticus, "unless the Governorcommutes his sentence. Not time to worry yet, Scout.We'vegotagoodchance."

Jemwas sprawled on the sofa reading PopularMechanics. Helookedup."Itain'tright.Hedidn'tkillanybodyevenifhewasguilty.Hedidn'ttakeanybody'slife."

"Youknowrape'sacapitaloffenseinAlabama,"saidAtticus.

"Yessir, but the jury didn't have to give him death- if theywantedtotheycould'vegavehimtwentyyears."

"Given,"saidAtticus."TomRobinson'sacoloredman,Jem.Nojury in this part of theworld's going to say, 'We think you'reguilty, but not very,' on a charge like that. It was either a

straightacquittalornothing."

Jemwas shaking his head. "I know it's not right, but I can'tfigure out what's wrong- maybe rape shouldn't be a capitaloffense...."

Atticus dropped his newspaper beside his chair. He said hedidn'thaveanyquarrelwiththerapestatute,nonewhatever,buthedidhavedeepmisgivingswhenthestateaskedforandthe jury gave a death penalty on purely circumstantialevidence.Heglancedatme,sawIwas listening,andmade iteasier. "-I mean, before a man is sentenced to death formurder, say, thereshouldbeoneor twoeye-witnesses.Someoneshouldbeable tosay, 'Yes, Iwas thereandsawhimpullthetrigger.'"

"But lots of folks have been hung- hanged- on circumstantialevidence,"saidJem.

"Iknow,and lotsof 'emprobablydeserved it, too-but in theabsence of eye-witnesses there's always a doubt, some timesonly the shadowof a doubt. The law says 'reasonable doubt,'but I think a defendant's entitled to the shadow of a doubt.There'salways thepossibility,nomatterhow improbable, thathe'sinnocent."

"Thenitallgoesbacktothejury,then.Weoughtadoawaywithjuries."Jemwasadamant.

Atticustriedhardnottosmilebutcouldn'thelpit."You'reratherhard on us, son. I thinkmaybe theremight be a betterway.Changethelaw.Changeitsothatonlyjudgeshavethepoweroffixingthepenaltyincapitalcases."

"ThengouptoMontgomeryandchangethelaw."

"You'dbesurprisedhowhardthat'dbe.Iwon't livetoseethelawchanged,andifyoulivetoseeityou'llbeanoldman."

This was not good enough for Jem. "No sir, they oughta doaway with juries. He wasn't guilty in the first place and theysaidhewas."

"Ifyouhadbeenonthat jury,son,andelevenotherboys likeyou,Tomwouldbeafreeman,"saidAtticus."Sofarnothinginyourlifehasinterferedwithyourreasoningprocess.Thosearetwelvereasonablemenineverydaylife,Tom'sjury,butyousawsomethingcomebetweenthemandreason.Yousawthesamethingthatnightinfrontofthejail.Whenthatcrewwentaway,theydidn'tgoasreasonablemen,theywentbecausewewerethere. There's something in our world that makes men losetheir heads- they couldn't be fair if they tried. In our courts,whenit'sawhiteman'swordagainstablackman's,thewhitemanalwayswins.They'reugly,butthosearethefactsoflife."

"Doesn'tmakeitright,"saidJemstolidly.Hebeathisfistsoftlyonhisknee."Youjustcan'tconvictamanonevidencelikethat-youcan't."

"Youcouldn't,but theycouldanddid.Theolderyougrowthemoreofityou'llsee.Theoneplacewhereamanoughttogetasquaredeal is inacourtroom,beheanycoloroftherainbow,butpeoplehaveawayofcarryingtheirresentmentsrightintoajurybox.Asyougrowolder,you'll seewhitemencheatblackmeneverydayofyour life,but letmetellyousomethinganddon'tyouforgetit-wheneverawhitemandoesthattoablackman,nomatterwhoheis,howrichheis,orhowfineafamilyhecomesfrom,thatwhitemanistrash."

Atticus was speaking so quietly his last word crashed on ourears.Ilookedup,andhisfacewasvehement."There'snothingmoresickening tomethana low-gradewhitemanwho'll takeadvantageofaNegro'signorance.Don'tfoolyourselves-it'salladdingupandoneofthesedayswe'regoingtopaythebillforit.Ihopeit'snotinyouchildren'stime."

Jem was scratching his head. Suddenly his eyes widened.

"Atticus," he said, "why don't people like us andMissMaudieeversitonjuries?YouneverseeanybodyfromMaycombonajury-theyallcomefromoutinthewoods."

Atticus leaned back in his rocking-chair. For some reason helookedpleasedwithJem."Iwaswonderingwhenthat'doccurtoyou," he said. "There are lots of reasons. For one thing,MissMaudiecan'tserveonajurybecauseshe'sawoman-"

"YoumeanwomeninAlabamacan't-?"Iwasindignant.

"Ido. Iguess it's toprotectour frail ladies fromsordid caseslikeTom's.Besides,"Atticusgrinned,"Idoubtifwe'devergetacomplete case tried- the ladies'd be interrupting to askquestions."

JemandIlaughed.MissMaudieonajurywouldbeimpressive.I thought of old Mrs. Dubose in her wheelchair- "Stop thatrapping, John Taylor, I want to ask this man something."Perhapsourforefatherswerewise.

Atticuswassaying,"Withpeoplelikeus-that'sourshareofthebill.Wegenerallygetthejurieswedeserve.OurstoutMaycombcitizensaren'tinterested,inthefirstplace.Inthesecondplace,they'reafraid.Then,they're-"

"Afraid,why?"askedJem.

"Well,what if-say,Mr.LinkDeashadtodecidetheamountofdamages to award, say, Miss Maudie, when Miss Rachel ranover her with a car. Link wouldn't like the thought of losingeitherlady'sbusinessathisstore,wouldhe?SohetellsJudgeTaylorthathecan'tserveonthejurybecausehedoesn'thaveanybodytokeepstoreforhimwhilehe'sgone.SoJudgeTaylorexcuseshim.Sometimesheexcuseshimwrathfully."

"What'dmakehim think either oneof 'em'd stop tradingwithhim?"Iasked.

Jem said, "Miss Rachel would, Miss Maudie wouldn't. But ajury'svote'ssecret,Atticus."

Our father chuckled. "You've many more miles to go, son. Ajury'svote'ssupposedtobesecret.Servingonajuryforcesamantomakeuphismindanddeclarehimselfaboutsomething.Mendon'tliketodothat.Sometimesit'sunpleasant."

"Tom'sjurysho'madeupitsmindinahurry,"Jemmuttered.

Atticus'sfingerswenttohiswatchpocket."Noitdidn't,"hesaid,moretohimselfthantous."Thatwastheonethingthatmademe think, well, thismay be the shadow of a beginning. Thatjurytookafewhours.Aninevitableverdict,maybe,butusuallyit takes 'em just a fewminutes. This time-" he broke off andlookedatus."Youmightliketoknowthattherewasonefellowwhotookconsiderablewearingdown- inthebeginninghewasrarin'foranoutrightacquittal."

"Who?"Jemwasastonished.

Atticus'seyestwinkled."It'snotformetosay,butI'll tellyouthismuch.HewasoneofyourOldSarumfriends..."

"One of the Cunninghams?" Jem yelped. "One of- I didn'trecognizeanyof'em...you'rejokin'."HelookedatAtticusfromthecornersofhiseyes.

"Oneoftheirconnections.Onahunch,Ididn'tstrikehim.Justonahunch.Could've,butIdidn't."

"GollyMoses," Jem said reverently. "Oneminute they're tryin'to kill him and the next they're tryin' to turn him loose... I'llneverunderstandthosefolksaslongasIlive."

Atticus said you just had to know 'em. He said theCunninghams hadn't taken anything from or off of anybodysincetheymigratedtotheNewWorld.Hesaidtheotherthingabout themwas, onceyouearned their respect theywere for

youtoothandnail.Atticussaidhehadafeeling,nothingmorethan a suspicion, that they left the jail that night withconsiderablerespectfortheFinches.Thentoo,hesaid,ittookathunderbolt plus another Cunningham to make one of themchangehismind."Ifwe'dhadtwoofthatcrowd,we'd'vehadahungjury."

Jemsaidslowly,"Youmeanyouactuallyputonthejuryamanwhowanted to kill you the night before?How could you takesucharisk,Atticus,howcouldyou?"

"Whenyouanalyzeit,therewaslittlerisk.There'snodifferencebetween one man who's going to convict and another manwho's going to convict, is there? There's a faint differencebetweenamanwho'sgoingtoconvictandamanwho'salittledisturbedinhismind, isn'tthere?Hewastheonlyuncertaintyonthewholelist."

"WhatkinwasthatmantoMr.WalterCunningham?"Iasked.

Atticus rose, stretched and yawned. It was not even ourbedtime, but we knew he wanted a chance to read hisnewspaper. He picked it up, folded it, and tapped my head."Let'sseenow,"hedronedtohimself."I'vegot it.Doublefirstcousin."

"Howcanthatbe?"

"Two sistersmarried two brothers. That's all I'll tell you- youfigureitout."

ItorturedmyselfanddecidedthatifImarriedJemandDillhada sister whom he married our children would be double firstcousins. "Gee minetti, Jem," I said, when Atticus had gone,"they'refunnyfolks.'dyouhearthat,Aunty?"

AuntAlexandrawashookingarugandnotwatchingus,butshewas listening.Shesat inherchairwithherworkbasketbeside

it, her rug spread across her lap. Why ladies hooked woolenrugsonboilingnightsneverbecamecleartome.

"Iheardit,"shesaid.

IrememberedthedistantdisastrousoccasionwhenIrushedtoyoungWalterCunningham'sdefense.NowIwasglad I'ddoneit."Soon'sschoolstartsI'mgonnaaskWalterhometodinner,"Iplanned,havingforgottenmyprivateresolvetobeathimupthenexttimeIsawhim."Hecanstayoversometimesafterschool,too.AtticuscoulddrivehimbacktoOldSarum.Maybehecouldspendthenightwithussometime,okay,Jem?"

"We'll seeabout that,"AuntAlexandrasaid,adeclaration thatwith her was always a threat, never a promise. Surprised, Iturnedtoher."Whynot,Aunty?They'regoodfolks."

Shelookedatmeoverhersewingglasses."JeanLouise,thereisnodoubtinmymindthatthey'regoodfolks.Butthey'renotourkindoffolks."

Jemsays,"Shemeansthey'reyappy,Scout."

"What'sayap?"

"Aw,tacky.Theylikefiddlin'andthingslikethat."

"WellIdotoo-"

"Don'tbesilly,JeanLouise,"saidAuntAlexandra."Thethingis,you can scrubWalter Cunningham till he shines, you can puthim in shoes and a new suit, but he'll never be like Jem.Besides, there's a drinking streak in that family a mile wide.Finchwomenaren'tinterestedinthatsortofpeople."

"Aun-ty,"saidJem,"sheain'tnineyet."

"Shemayaswelllearnitnow."

AuntAlexandrahadspoken.Iwasremindedvividlyofthe lasttimeshehadputherfootdown.Ineverknewwhy.ItwaswhenI was absorbed with plans to visit Calpurnia's house- I wascurious, interested;Iwantedtobeher"company,"toseehowshelived,whoherfriendswere.Imightaswellhavewantedtosee the other side of the moon. This time the tactics weredifferent,butAuntAlexandra'saimwasthesame.Perhapsthiswaswhyshehadcometo livewithus- tohelpuschooseourfriends.IwouldholdheroffaslongasIcould:"Ifthey'regoodfolks,thenwhycan'tIbenicetoWalter?"

"Ididn'tsaynottobenicetohim.Youshouldbefriendlyandpolite to him, you should be gracious to everybody, dear. Butyoudon'thavetoinvitehimhome."

"Whatifhewaskintous,Aunty?"

"Thefactisthatheisnotkintous,butifhewere,myanswerwouldbethesame."

"Aunty," Jem spoke up, "Atticus says you can choose yourfriends but you sho' can't choose your family, an' they're stillkintoyounomatterwhetheryouacknowledge'emornot,anditmakesyoulookrightsillywhenyoudon't."

"That'syourfatheralloveragain,"saidAuntAlexandra,"andIstill say that JeanLouisewillnot inviteWalterCunningham tothishouse.IfhewereherdoublefirstcousinonceremovedhewouldstillnotbereceivedinthishouseunlesshecomestoseeAtticusonbusiness.Nowthatisthat."

She had said Indeed Not, but this time she would give herreasons:"ButIwanttoplaywithWalter,Aunty,whycan'tI?"

She tookoffherglassesandstaredatme. "I'll tell youwhy,"shesaid."Because-he-is-trash,that'swhyyoucan'tplaywithhim. I'll not have you around him, picking up his habits andlearningLord-knows-what.You'reenoughofaproblemtoyour

fatherasitis."

Idon'tknowwhatIwouldhavedone,butJemstoppedme.Hecaughtmeby the shoulders, put his armaroundme, and ledmesobbinginfurytohisbedroom.Atticusheardusandpokedhisheadaroundthedoor."'sallright,sir,"Jemsaidgruffly,"'snotanything."Atticuswentaway.

"Haveachew,Scout."JemdugintohispocketandextractedaTootsie Roll. It took a fewminutes to work the candy into acomfortablewadinsidemyjaw.

Jemwasrearrangingtheobjectsonhisdresser.Hishairstuckupbehindanddown in front,and Iwondered if itwouldeverlooklikeaman's-maybeifheshaveditoffandstartedover,hishair would grow back neatly in place. His eyebrows werebecomingheavier,andInoticedanewslimnessabouthisbody.Hewasgrowingtaller.

When he looked around, hemust have thought I would startcryingagain,forhesaid,"Showyousomethingifyouwon'ttellanybody."Isaidwhat.Heunbuttonedhisshirt,grinningshyly.

"Wellwhat?"

"Wellcan'tyouseeit?"

"Wellno."

"Wellit'shair."

"Where?"

"There.Rightthere."

Hehadbeenacomforttome,soIsaiditlookedlovely,butIdidn'tseeanything."It'srealnice,Jem."

"Undermyarms,too,"hesaid."Goin'outforfootballnextyear.

Scout,don'tletAuntyaggravateyou."

It seemed only yesterday that he was telling me not toaggravateAunty.

"You know she's not used to girls," said Jem, "leastways, notgirls likeyou.She'stryingtomakeyoua lady.Can'tyoutakeupsewin'orsomethin'?"

"Hellno.Shedoesn'tlikeme,that'sallthereistoit,andIdon'tcare. It was her callin'Walter Cunningham trash that gotmegoin',Jem,notwhatshesaidaboutbeingaproblemtoAtticus.Wegotthatallstraightonetime,IaskedhimifIwasaproblemandhesaidnotmuchofone,atmostonethathecouldalwaysfigureout,andnottoworrymyheadasecondaboutbotherin'him.Naw,itwasWalter-thatboy'snottrash,Jem.Heain'tliketheEwells."

Jem kicked off his shoes and swung his feet to the bed. Hepropped himself against a pillow and switched on the readinglight. "You know something, Scout? I've got it all figured out,now.I'vethoughtaboutitalotlatelyandI'vegotitfiguredout.There's four kinds of folks in the world. There's the ordinarykind like us and the neighbors, there's the kind like theCunninghamsoutinthewoods,thekindliketheEwellsdownatthedump,andtheNegroes."

"What about the Chinese, and the Cajuns down yonder inBaldwinCounty?"

"ImeaninMaycombCounty.Thethingabout it is,ourkindoffolks don't like the Cunninghams, the Cunninghams don't liketheEwells,andtheEwellshateanddespisethecoloredfolks."

ItoldJemifthatwasso,thenwhydidn'tTom'sjury,madeupoffolksliketheCunninghams,acquitTomtospitetheEwells?"

Jemwavedmyquestionawayasbeinginfantile.

"Youknow,"hesaid,"I'veseenAtticuspathisfootwhenthere'sfiddlin'ontheradio,andhelovespotliquorbetter'nanymanIeversaw-"

"ThenthatmakesusliketheCunninghams,"Isaid."Ican'tseewhyAunty-"

"No, lemme finish- it does, but we're still different somehow.Atticus said one time the reason Aunty's so hipped on thefamilyisbecauseallwe'vegot'sbackgroundandnotadimetoournames."

"WellJem,Idon'tknow-AtticustoldmeonetimethatmostofthisOldFamilystuff'sfoolishnessbecauseeverybody'sfamily'sjust as old as everybody else's. I said did that include thecoloredfolksandEnglishmenandhesaidyes."

"Background doesn'tmeanOld Family," said Jem. "I think it'show long your family's been readin' and writin'. Scout, I'vestudiedthisrealhardandthat'stheonlyreasonIcanthinkof.Somewherealongwhen theFincheswere inEgyptoneof 'emmusthavelearnedahieroglyphicortwoandhetaughthisboy."Jemlaughed."ImagineAuntybeingproudhergreat-grandaddycouldreadan'write-ladiespickfunnythingstobeproudof."

"WellI'mgladhecould,orwho'dataughtAtticusandthem,andifAtticuscouldn'tread,youandme'dbeinafix.Idon'tthinkthat'swhatbackgroundis,Jem."

"Well then, how do you explain why the Cunninghams aredifferent?Mr.Walter canhardly signhisname, I've seenhim.We'vejustbeenreadin'andwritin'longer'ntheyhave."

"No, everybody's gotta learn, nobody's born knowin'. ThatWalter's as smart as he can be, he just gets held backsometimes because he has to stay out and help his daddy.Nothin's wrong with him. Naw, Jem, I think there's just onekindoffolks.Folks."

Jem turned around and punched his pillow. When he settledbackhisfacewascloudy.Hewasgoingintooneofhisdeclines,andIgrewwary.Hisbrowscametogether;hismouthbecameathinline.Hewassilentforawhile.

"That'swhatIthought,too,"hesaidatlast,"whenIwasyourage.Ifthere'sjustonekindoffolks,whycan'ttheygetalongwitheachother?Ifthey'reallalike,whydotheygooutoftheirway to despise each other? Scout, I think I'm beginning tounderstandsomething.IthinkI'mbeginningtounderstandwhyBoo Radley's stayed shut up in the house all this time... it'sbecausehewantstostayinside."

24

Calpurniaworeherstiffeststarchedapron.Shecarriedatrayofcharlotte. She backed up to the swinging door and pressedgently. I admired the ease and gracewithwhich she handledheavy loads of dainty things. So didAuntAlexandra, I guess,becauseshehadletCalpurniaservetoday.

AugustwasonthebrinkofSeptember.DillwouldbeleavingforMeridiantomorrow;todayhewasoffwithJematBarker'sEddy.Jem had discovered with angry amazement that nobody hadeverbotheredtoteachDillhowtoswim,askillJemconsiderednecessary as walking. They had spent two afternoons at thecreek,theysaidtheyweregoinginnakedandIcouldn'tcome,so I divided the lonely hours between Calpurnia and MissMaudie.

Today Aunt Alexandra and hermissionary circle were fightingthe good fight all over the house. From the kitchen, I heardMrs. Grace Merriweather giving a report in the livingroom onthesqualidlivesoftheMrunas,itsoundedliketome.Theyputthe women out in huts when their time came, whatever thatwas;theyhadnosenseoffamily-Iknewthat'ddistressAunty-they subjected children to terrible ordeals when they werethirteen; they were crawling with yaws and earworms, theychewedupandspatoutthebarkofatreeintoacommunalpotandthengotdrunkonit.

Immediatelythereafter,theladiesadjournedforrefreshments.

I didn't knowwhether to go into the diningroom or stay out.AuntAlexandra toldme to join them for refreshments; itwasnot necessary that I attend the business part of themeeting,she said it'd boreme. I was wearingmy pink Sunday dress,

shoes, and a petticoat, and reflected that if I spilled anythingCalpurnia would have to wash my dress again for tomorrow.Thishadbeenabusydayforher.Idecidedtostayout.

"CanIhelpyou,Cal?"Iasked,wishingtobeofsomeservice.

Calpurnia paused in the doorway. "You be still as amouse inthatcorner,"shesaid,"an'youcanhelpme loadupthetrayswhenIcomeback."

Thegentlehumofladies'voicesgrewlouderassheopenedthedoor: "Why, Alexandra, I never saw such charlotte... justlovely...Inevercangetmycrustlikethis,nevercan...who'd'vethoughtof littledewberry tarts...Calpurnia?...who'da thoughtit...anybodytellyouthatthepreacher'swife's...nooo,wellsheis,andthatotheronenotwalkin'yet..."

They became quiet, and I knew they had all been served.Calpurniareturnedandputmymother'sheavysilverpitcheronatray."Thiscoffeepitcher'sacuriosity,"shemurmured,"theydon'tmake'emthesedays."

"CanIcarryitin?"

"Ifyoubecarefulanddon'tdrop it.Set itdownat theendofthetablebyMissAlexandra.Downtherebythecups'nthings.She'sgonnapour."

I tried pressingmy behind against the door as Calpurnia haddone,butthedoordidn'tbudge.Grinning,shehelditopenforme."Carefulnow,it'sheavy.Don'tlookatitandyouwon'tspillit."

My journey was successful: Aunt Alexandra smiled brilliantly."Staywith us, Jean Louise," she said. This was a part of hercampaigntoteachmetobealady.

Itwascustomaryforeverycirclehostesstoinviteherneighborsin for refreshments, be they Baptists or Presbyterians, which

accounted for thepresenceofMissRachel (soberasa judge),Miss Maudie and Miss Stephanie Crawford. Rather nervous, ItookaseatbesideMissMaudieandwonderedwhyladiesputontheir hats to go across the street. Ladies in bunches alwaysfilled me with vague apprehension and a firm desire to beelsewhere, but this feeling was what Aunt Alexandra calledbeing"spoiled."

Theladieswerecoolinfragilepastelprints:mostofthemwereheavily powdered but unrouged; the only lipstick in the roomwasTangeeNatural.CutexNaturalsparkledontheirfingernails,but some of the younger ladies wore Rose. They smelledheavenly. I sat quietly, having conqueredmyhandsby tightlygrippingthearmsofthechair,andwaitedforsomeonetospeaktome.

MissMaudie'sgoldbridgeworktwinkled."You'remightydressedup, Miss Jean Louise," she said, "Where are your britchestoday?"

"Undermydress."

Ihadn'tmeanttobefunny,buttheladieslaughed.Mycheeksgrew hot as I realized my mistake, but Miss Maudie lookedgravelydownatme.Shenever laughedatmeunlessImeanttobefunny.

In the sudden silence that followed, Miss Stephanie Crawfordcalled fromacross the room, "Whatchagoing to bewhenyougrowup,JeanLouise?Alawyer?"

"Nome, I hadn't thought about it..." I answered, grateful thatMiss Stephanie was kind enough to change the subject.Hurriedly I began choosing my vocation. Nurse? Aviator?"Well..."

"Why shoot, I thought you wanted to be a lawyer, you'vealreadycommencedgoingtocourt."

Theladieslaughedagain."ThatStephanie'sacard,"somebodysaid. Miss Stephanie was encouraged to pursue the subject:"Don'tyouwanttogrowuptobealawyer?"

Miss Maudie's hand touched mine and I answered mildlyenough,"Nome,justalady."

MissStephanieeyedmesuspiciously,decidedthat Imeantnoimpertinence,andcontentedherselfwith,"Well,youwon'tgetveryfaruntilyoustartwearingdressesmoreoften."

MissMaudie'shandclosedtightlyonmine,andIsaidnothing.Itswarmthwasenough.

Mrs.GraceMerriweathersatonmy left,andI felt itwouldbepolitetotalktoher.Mr.Merriweather,afaithfulMethodistunderduress, apparently saw nothing personal in singing, "AmazingGrace,howsweetthesound,thatsavedawretchlikeme..."Itwas the general opinion of Maycomb, however, that Mrs.Merriweatherhadsoberedhimupandmadeareasonablyusefulcitizen of him. For certainly Mrs. Merriweather was the mostdevout lady inMaycomb. I searched for a topic of interest toher."Whatdidyouallstudythisafternoon?"Iasked.

"Ohchild,thosepoorMrunas,"shesaid,andwasoff.Fewotherquestionswouldbenecessary.

Mrs. Merriweather's large brown eyes always filled with tearswhensheconsideredtheoppressed."LivinginthatjunglewithnobodybutJ.GrimesEverett,"shesaid."Notawhiteperson'llgonear'embutthatsaintlyJ.GrimesEverett."

Mrs.Merriweather playedher voice like anorgan; everywordshe said received its full measure: "The poverty... thedarkness... the immorality- nobody but J. Grimes Everettknows. You know, when the church gaveme that trip to thecampgroundsJ.GrimesEverettsaidtome-"

"Washethere,ma'am?Ithought-"

"Home on leave. J. Grimes Everett said tome, he said, 'Mrs.Merriweather,youhavenoconception,noconceptionofwhatwearefightingoverthere.'That'swhathesaidtome."

"Yesma'am."

"Isaidtohim,'Mr.Everett,'Isaid, 'theladiesoftheMaycombAlabamaMethodistEpiscopalChurchSoutharebehindyouonehundred percent.' That's what I said to him. And you know,right then and there I made a pledge in my heart. I said tomyself, when I go home I'm going to give a course on theMrunasandbringJ.GrimesEverett'smessagetoMaycombandthat'sjustwhatI'mdoing."

"Yesma'am."

When Mrs. Merriweather shook her head, her black curlsjiggled. "JeanLouise," she said, "youarea fortunategirl. YouliveinaChristianhomewithChristianfolksinaChristiantown.OutthereinJ.GrimesEverett'slandthere'snothingbutsinandsqualor."

"Yesma'am."

"Sinandsqualor-whatwasthat,Gertrude?"Mrs.Merriweatherturnedonherchimesforthe ladysittingbesideher."Ohthat.Well,Ialwayssayforgiveandforget,forgiveandforget.ThingthatchurchoughttodoishelpherleadaChristianlifeforthosechildren fromhere on out. Some of themen ought to go outthereandtellthatpreachertoencourageher."

"Excuse me, Mrs. Merriweather," I interrupted, "are you alltalkingaboutMayellaEwell?"

"May-?No,child.Thatdarky'swife.Tom'swife,Tom-"

"Robinson,ma'am."

Mrs. Merriweather turned back to her neighbor. "There's onething I truly believe, Gertrude," she continued, "but somepeople justdon't see itmyway. Ifwe just let themknowweforgive'em,thatwe'veforgottenit,thenthiswholething'llblowover."

"Ah-Mrs.Merriweather,"Iinterruptedoncemore,"what'llblowover?"

Again, she turned tome.Mrs.Merriweatherwasoneof thosechildlessadultswhofinditnecessarytoassumeadifferenttoneofvoicewhenspeakingtochildren."Nothing,JeanLouise,"shesaid, in stately largo, "the cooks and field hands are justdissatisfied, but they're settling down now- they grumbled allnextdayafterthattrial."

Mrs. Merriweather faced Mrs. Farrow: "Gertrude, I tell youthere's nothing more distracting than a sulky darky. Theirmouthsgodowntohere.Justruinsyourdaytohaveoneof'eminthekitchen.YouknowwhatIsaidtomySophy,Gertrude?Isaid,'Sophy,'Isaid,'yousimplyarenotbeingaChristiantoday.Jesus Christ never went around grumbling and complaining,'andyouknow,itdidhergood.Shetookhereyesoffthatfloorand said, 'Nome, Miz Merriweather, Jesus never went aroundgrumblin'.' I tell you, Gertrude, you never ought to let anopportunitygobytowitnessfortheLord."

I was reminded of the ancient little organ in the chapel atFinch'sLanding.WhenIwasverysmall,andifIhadbeenverygood during the day, Atticus would let me pump its bellowswhilehepickedoutatunewithonefinger.Thelastnotewouldlingeraslongastherewasairtosustainit.Mrs.Merriweatherhad run out of air, I judged, andwas replenishing her supplywhileMrs.Farrowcomposedherselftospeak.

Mrs. Farrowwas a splendidly builtwomanwith pale eyes andnarrowfeet.Shehadafreshpermanentwave,andherhairwasamassoftightgrayringlets.Shewasthesecondmostdevout

lady in Maycomb. She had a curious habit of prefacingeverythingshesaidwithasoftsibilantsound.

"S-s-s Grace," she said, "it's just like I was telling BrotherHutsontheotherday.'S-s-sBrotherHutson,'Isaid,'lookslikewe're fighting a losing battle, a losing battle.' I said, 'S-s-s itdoesn't matter to 'em one bit.We can educate 'em till we'reblueintheface,wecantrytillwedroptomakeChristiansoutof'em,butthere'snoladysafeinherbedthesenights.'Hesaidtome, 'Mrs.Farrow, Idon'tknowwhatwe'recoming todownhere.'S-s-sItoldhimthatwascertainlyafact."

Mrs. Merriweather nodded wisely. Her voice soared over theclink of coffee cups and the soft bovine sounds of the ladiesmunchingtheirdainties."Gertrude,"shesaid,"Itellyouthereare some good butmisguided people in this town. Good, butmisguided. Folks in this townwho think they're doing right, Imean.Nowfarbe it frommetosaywho,butsomeof 'em inthistownthoughttheyweredoingtherightthingawhileback,but all they didwas stir 'em up. That's all they did. Might'velooked like the right thing to do at the time, I'm sure I don'tknow,I'mnotreadinthatfield,butsulky...dissatisfied...Itellyou ifmySophy'dkept itupanotherday I'dhave lethergo.It'sneverenteredthatwoolofhersthattheonlyreasonIkeepher is because this depression's on and she needs her dollarandaquartereveryweekshecangetit."

"Hisfooddoesn'tstickgoingdown,doesit?"

MissMaudiesaidit.Twotightlineshadappearedatthecornersof her mouth. She had been sitting silently beside me, hercoffee cup balanced on one knee. I had lost the thread ofconversation long ago, when they quit talking about TomRobinson's wife, and had contented myself with thinking ofFinch's Landing and the river. Aunt Alexandra had got itbackwards: the business part of the meeting was blood-curdling,thesocialhourwasdreary.

"Maudie, I'm sure I don't know what you mean," said Mrs.Merriweather.

"I'msureyoudo,"MissMaudiesaidshortly.

Shesaidnomore.WhenMissMaudiewasangryherbrevitywasicy.Somethinghadmadeherdeeplyangry,andhergrayeyeswereascoldashervoice.Mrs.Merriweatherreddened,glancedatme,andlookedaway.IcouldnotseeMrs.Farrow.

AuntAlexandragotupfromthetableandswiftlypassedmorerefreshments, neatly engaging Mrs. Merriweather and Mrs.Gates in brisk conversation. When she had them well on theroadwithMrs.Perkins,AuntAlexandrasteppedback.ShegaveMiss Maudie a look of pure gratitude, and I wondered at theworld of women. Miss Maudie and Aunt Alexandra had neverbeenespeciallyclose,andherewasAuntysilentlythankingherforsomething.Forwhat,Iknewnot.IwascontenttolearnthatAuntAlexandracouldbepiercedsufficientlytofeelgratitudeforhelpgiven.Therewasnodoubtaboutit,Imustsoonenterthisworld,whereonitssurfacefragrantladiesrockedslowly,fannedgently,anddrankcoolwater.

But Iwasmore at home inmy father'sworld. People likeMr.HeckTatedidnottrapyouwithinnocentquestionstomakefunof you; even Jem was not highly critical unless you saidsomethingstupid.Ladiesseemedtoliveinfainthorrorofmen,seemed unwilling to approve wholeheartedly of them. But Iliked them.Therewas something about them,nomatter howmuch they cussed and drank and gambled and chewed; nomatterhowundelectabletheywere,therewassomethingaboutthemthatIinstinctivelyliked...theyweren't-

"Hypocrites,Mrs. Perkins, born hypocrites,"Mrs.Merriweatherwas saying. "At leastwedon'thave that sinonour shouldersdownhere.Peopleupthereset'emfree,butyoudon'tsee'emsettin'atthetablewith'em.Atleastwedon'thavethedeceittosayto'emyesyou'reasgoodaswearebutstayawayfromus.

Downherewejustsayyouliveyourwayandwe'll liveours.Ithink that woman, that Mrs. Roosevelt's lost her mind- justplainlosthermindcomingdowntoBirminghamandtryin'tositwith'em.IfIwastheMayorofBirminghamI'd-"

Well,neitherofuswastheMayorofBirmingham,butIwishedIwastheGovernorofAlabamaforoneday:I'dletTomRobinsongosoquicktheMissionarySocietywouldn'thavetimetocatchits breath. Calpurnia was telling Miss Rachel's cook the otherdayhowbadTomwastakingthingsandshedidn'tstoptalkingwhen I came into the kitchen. She said there wasn't a thingAtticuscoulddotomakebeingshutupeasierforhim,thatthelast thinghesaidtoAtticusbeforetheytookhimdowntotheprisoncampwas,"Good-bye,Mr.Finch,thereain'tnothin'youcandonow,sothereain'tnousetryin'."CalpurniasaidAtticustoldherthatthedaytheytookTomtoprisonhejustgaveuphope.ShesaidAtticustriedtoexplainthingstohim,andthathemustdohisbestnottolosehopebecauseAtticuswasdoinghis best to get him free. Miss Rachel's cook asked Calpurniawhydidn't Atticus just say yes, you'll go free, and leave it atthat- seemed like that'd be a big comfort to Tom. Calpurniasaid, "Because you ain't familiar with the law. First thing youlearn when you're in a lawin' family is that there ain't anydefiniteanswerstoanything.Mr.Finchcouldn'tsaysomethin'ssowhenhedoesn'tknowforsureit'sso."

The frontdoorslammedand IheardAtticus's footsteps in thehall. Automatically I wondered what time it was. Not nearlytime for him to be home, and onMissionary Society days heusuallystayeddowntownuntilblackdark.

He stopped in the doorway. His hat was in his hand, and hisfacewaswhite.

"Excuse me, ladies," he said. "Go right ahead with yourmeeting,don't letmedisturbyou.Alexandra, couldyoucometo the kitchen a minute? I want to borrow Calpurnia for awhile."

Hedidn'tgothroughthediningroom,butwentdownthebackhallway and entered the kitchen from the rear door. AuntAlexandra and Imet him. The diningroom door opened againandMissMaudie joined us. Calpurnia had half risen from herchair.

"Cal," Atticus said, "I want you to go with me out to HelenRobinson'shouse-"

"What's the matter?" Aunt Alexandra asked, alarmed by thelookonmyfather'sface.

"Tom'sdead."

AuntAlexandraputherhandstohermouth.

"They shothim," saidAtticus. "Hewas running. Itwasduringtheirexerciseperiod.Theysaidhejustbrokeintoablindravingchargeatthefenceandstartedclimbingover.Rightinfrontofthem-"

"Didn'ttheytrytostophim?Didn'ttheygivehimanywarning?"AuntAlexandra'svoiceshook.

"Oh yes, the guards called to him to stop. They fired a fewshotsintheair,thentokill.Theygothimjustashewentoverthefence.Theysaidifhe'dhadtwogoodarmshe'dhavemadeit,hewasmovingthatfast.Seventeenbulletholesinhim.Theydidn't have to shoot him thatmuch.Cal, Iwant you to comeoutwithmeandhelpmetellHelen."

"Yes sir," shemurmured, fumbling at her apron. Miss MaudiewenttoCalpurniaanduntiedit.

"Thisisthelaststraw,Atticus,"AuntAlexandrasaid.

"Depends on how you look at it," he said. "What was oneNegro, more or less, among two hundred of 'em? He wasn'tTomtothem,hewasanescapingprisoner."

Atticus leaned against the refrigerator, pushed up his glasses,andrubbedhiseyes."Wehadsuchagoodchance,"hesaid."ItoldhimwhatIthought,butIcouldn'tintruthsaythatwehadmorethanagoodchance.IguessTomwastiredofwhitemen'schancesandpreferredtotakehisown.Ready,Cal?"

"Yessir,Mr.Finch."

"Thenlet'sgo."

AuntAlexandrasatdowninCalpurnia'schairandputherhandstoherface.Shesatquitestill;shewassoquietIwonderedifshewould faint. I heardMiss Maudie breathing as if she hadjust climbed the steps, and in the diningroom the ladieschatteredhappily.

I thought Aunt Alexandra was crying, but when she took herhandsawayfromherface,shewasnot.Shelookedweary.Shespoke,andhervoicewasflat.

"Ican'tsayIapproveofeverythinghedoes,Maudie,buthe'smybrother,andI justwant toknowwhenthiswilleverend."Her voice rose: "It tears him to pieces. He doesn't show itmuch,butittearshimtopieces.I'veseenhimwhen-whatelsedotheywantfromhim,Maudie,whatelse?"

"Whatdoeswhowant,Alexandra?"MissMaudieasked.

"Imeanthistown.They'reperfectlywillingto lethimdowhatthey'retooafraidtodothemselves-itmightlose'emanickel.They'reperfectlywillingtolethimwreckhishealthdoingwhatthey'reafraidtodo,they're-"

"Bequiet, they'llhearyou,"saidMissMaudie. "Haveyoueverthoughtof it thisway,Alexandra?WhetherMaycombknows itornot,we'repayingthehighesttributewecanpayaman.Wetrusthimtodoright.It'sthatsimple."

"Who?" Aunt Alexandra never knew she was echoing her

twelve-year-oldnephew.

"ThehandfulofpeopleinthistownwhosaythatfairplayisnotmarkedWhiteOnly;thehandfulofpeoplewhosayafairtrialisforeverybody,not justus; thehandfulofpeoplewithenoughhumilitytothink,whentheylookataNegro,therebutfortheLord's kindness am l." Miss Maudie's old crispness wasreturning:"Thehandfulofpeopleinthistownwithbackground,that'swhotheyare."

HadIbeenattentive,IwouldhavehadanotherscraptoaddtoJem'sdefinitionofbackground,butIfoundmyselfshakingandcouldn't stop. IhadseenEnfieldPrisonFarm,andAtticushadpointedouttheexerciseyardtome.Itwasthesizeofafootballfield.

"Stop that shaking," commandedMissMaudie, and I stopped."Getup,Alexandra,we'veleft'emlongenough."

Aunt Alexandra rose and smoothed the various whaleboneridgesalongherhips.Shetookherhandkerchieffromherbeltandwipedhernose.Shepattedherhairandsaid,"DoIshowit?"

"Not a sign," saidMissMaudie. "Areyou togetheragain, JeanLouise?"

"Yesma'am."

"Thenlet'sjointheladies,"shesaidgrimly.

TheirvoicesswelledwhenMissMaudieopenedthedoortothediningroom. Aunt Alexandrawas ahead ofme, and I saw herheadgoupasshewentthroughthedoor.

"Oh,Mrs.Perkins,"shesaid,"youneedsomemorecoffee.Letmegetit."

"Calpurnia'sonanerrandforafewminutes,Grace,"saidMiss

Maudie."Letmepassyousomemoreofthosedewberrytarts.'dyouhearwhatthatcousinofminedidtheotherday,theonewholikestogofishing?..."

Andsotheywent,downtherowoflaughingwomen,aroundthediningroom,refillingcoffeecups,dishingoutgoodiesasthoughtheironlyregretwasthetemporarydomesticdisasteroflosingCalpurnia.

The gentle hum began again. "Yes sir, Mrs. Perkins, that J.GrimesEverettisamartyredsaint,he...neededtogetmarriedsotheyran...tothebeautyparloreverySaturdayafternoon...soon as the sun goes down. He goes to bed with the...chickens, a crate full of sick chickens, Fred says that's whatstarteditall.Fredsays...."

AuntAlexandralookedacrosstheroomatmeandsmiled.Shelookedatatrayofcookiesonthetableandnoddedatthem.Icarefully picked up the tray andwatchedmyself walk toMrs.Merriweather.Withmy best companymanners, I asked her ifshewouldhavesome.

Afterall,ifAuntycouldbealadyatatimelikethis,socouldI.

25

"Don'tdothat,Scout.Sethimoutonthebacksteps."

"Jem,areyoucrazy?...."

"Isaidsethimoutonthebacksteps."

Sighing, I scooped up the small creature, placed him on thebottom step andwent back tomy cot. September had come,but not a trace of cool weather with it, and we were stillsleeping on the back screen porch. Lightning bugs were stillabout, the night crawlers and flying insects that beat againstthe screen the summer long had not gone wherever they gowhenautumncomes.

Aroly-polyhadfoundhiswayinsidethehouse;Ireasonedthatthetinyvarminthadcrawledupthestepsandunderthedoor.Iwas puttingmy book on the floor besidemy cot when I sawhim.The creatures arenomore thanan inch long, andwhenyoutouchthemtheyrollthemselvesintoatightgrayball.

I layonmystomach,reacheddownandpokedhim.Herolledup. Then, feeling safe, I suppose, he slowly unrolled. Hetraveled a few inches on his hundred legs and I touched himagain.Herolledup.Feelingsleepy,Idecidedtoendthings.MyhandwasgoingdownonhimwhenJemspoke.

Jemwasscowling.Itwasprobablyapartof thestagehewasgoingthrough,andIwishedhewouldhurryupandgetthroughit. He was certainly never cruel to animals, but I had neverknownhischaritytoembracetheinsectworld.

"Whycouldn'tImashhim?"Iasked.

"Because they don't bother you," Jem answered in thedarkness.Hehadturnedouthisreadinglight.

"Reckonyou'reat thestagenowwhereyoudon'tkill fliesandmosquitoes now, I reckon," I said. "Lemme know when youchangeyourmind.Tellyouonething,though,Iain'tgonnasitaroundandnotscratcharedbug."

"Awdryup,"heanswereddrowsily.

Jemwas the onewhowasgettingmore like a girl every day,notI.Comfortable,Ilayonmybackandwaitedforsleep,andwhilewaiting I thought of Dill. He had left us the first of themonth with firm assurances that he would return the minuteschoolwasout-heguessedhis folkshadgot thegeneral ideathat he liked to spend his summers inMaycomb.Miss Racheltook us with them in the taxi to Maycomb Junction, and Dillwavedtousfromthetrainwindowuntilhewasoutofsight.Hewas not out ofmind: Imissed him. The last two days of histimewithus,Jemhadtaughthimtoswim-

Taughthimtoswim.Iwaswideawake,rememberingwhatDillhadtoldme.

Barker's Eddy is at the end of a dirt road off the Meridianhighwayaboutamilefromtown.Itiseasytocatcharidedownthehighwayonacottonwagonorfromapassingmotorist,andtheshortwalktothecreekiseasy,buttheprospectofwalkingall the way back home at dusk, when the traffic is light, istiresome,andswimmersarecarefulnottostaytoolate.

According to Dill, he and Jem had just come to the highwaywhentheysawAtticusdriving toward them.He looked likehehadnotseenthem,sotheybothwaved.Atticusfinallysloweddown; when they caught up with him he said, "You'd bettercatcharideback.Iwon'tbegoinghomeforawhile."Calpurniawasinthebackseat.

Jem protested, then pleaded, and Atticus said, "All right, youcancomewithusifyoustayinthecar."

On the way to Tom Robinson's, Atticus told them what hadhappened.

Theyturnedoffthehighway,rodeslowlybythedumpandpasttheEwellresidence,downthenarrowlanetotheNegrocabins.DillsaidacrowdofblackchildrenwereplayingmarblesinTom'sfront yard. Atticus parked the car and got out. Calpurniafollowedhimthroughthefrontgate.

Dill heardhimaskoneof the children, "Where's yourmother,Sam?" and heard Sam say, "She down at Sis Stevens's, Mr.Finch.Wantmerunfetchher?"

Dill said Atticus looked uncertain, then he said yes, and Samscampered off. "Go onwith your game, boys," Atticus said tothechildren.

AlittlegirlcametothecabindoorandstoodlookingatAtticus.Dillsaidherhairwasawadoftinystiffpigtails,eachendinginabrightbow.Shegrinned fromear toearandwalked towardourfather,butshewastoosmalltonavigatethesteps.DillsaidAtticuswenttoher,tookoffhishat,andofferedherhisfinger.Shegrabbeditandheeasedherdownthesteps.ThenhegavehertoCalpurnia.

Samwas trotting behind hismotherwhen they came up. Dillsaid Helen said, "'evenin', Mr. Finch, won't you have a seat?"Butshedidn'tsayanymore.NeitherdidAtticus.

"Scout,"saidDill,"shejustfelldowninthedirt.Justfelldownin the dirt, like a giant with a big foot just came along andsteppedonher.Justump-"Dill's fat foothit theground."Likeyou'dsteponanant."

DillsaidCalpurniaandAtticus liftedHelentoher feetandhalf

carried,halfwalkedhertothecabin.Theystayedinsidealongtime,andAtticuscameoutalone.Whentheydrovebackbythedump,someoftheEwellsholleredatthem,butDilldidn'tcatchwhattheysaid.

Maycomb was interested by the news of Tom's death forperhapstwodays;twodayswasenoughfortheinformationtospread through thecounty. "Didyouhearabout?....No?Well,they say he was runnin' fit to beat lightnin'..." To Maycomb,Tom's death was typical. Typical of a nigger to cut and run.Typicalofanigger'smentalitytohavenoplan,nothought forthe future, just run blind first chance he saw. Funny thing,AtticusFinchmight'vegothimoffscotfree,butwait-?Hellno.Youknowhowtheyare.Easycome,easygo.Justshowsyou,thatRobinsonboywaslegallymarried,theysayhekepthimselfclean,wenttochurchandallthat,butwhenitcomesdowntothe line theveneer'smighty thin.Niggeralways comesout in'em.

Afewmoredetails,enablingthelistenertorepeathisversioninturn, then nothing to talk about until The Maycomb TribuneappearedthefollowingThursday.TherewasabriefobituaryintheColoredNews,buttherewasalsoaneditorial.

Mr. B. B. Underwood was at his most bitter, and he couldn'thave cared less who canceled advertising and subscriptions.(ButMaycombdidn'tplaythatway:Mr.Underwoodcouldhollertillhesweatedandwritewhateverhewantedto,he'dstillgethisadvertisingandsubscriptions.Ifhewantedtomakeafoolofhimself in his paper that was his business.) Mr. Underwooddidn't talk about miscarriages of justice, he was writing sochildrencouldunderstand.Mr.Underwoodsimplyfigureditwasasintokillcripples,betheystanding,sitting,orescaping.HelikenedTom'sdeathtothesenselessslaughterofsongbirdsbyhunters and children, andMaycomb thought hewas trying towrite an editorial poetical enough to be reprinted in TheMontgomeryAdvertiser.

How could this be so, Iwondered, as I readMr.Underwood'seditorial.Senselesskilling-Tomhadbeengivendueprocessoflaw to the day of his death; he had been tried openly andconvictedbytwelvegoodmenandtrue;myfatherhadfoughtfor him all the way. Then Mr. Underwood's meaning becameclear:AtticushadusedeverytoolavailabletofreementosaveTomRobinson,but inthesecretcourtsofmen'sheartsAtticushad no case. Tomwas a deadman theminute Mayella Ewellopenedhermouthandscreamed.

ThenameEwell gavemeaqueasy feeling.Maycombhad lostno time in getting Mr. Ewell's views on Tom's demise andpassing them along through that English Channel of gossip,MissStephanieCrawford.MissStephanietoldAuntAlexandrainJem'spresence("Ohfoot,he'soldenoughto listen.") thatMr.Ewell said itmadeonedownandabout twomore to go. Jemtold me not to be afraid, Mr. Ewell was more hot gas thananything.JemalsotoldmethatifIbreathedawordtoAtticus,if inanyway I letAtticusknowIknew, Jemwouldpersonallyneverspeaktomeagain.

26

Schoolstarted,andsodidourdailytripspasttheRadleyPlace.Jemwasintheseventhgradeandwenttohighschool,beyondthegrammar-schoolbuilding;Iwasnowinthethirdgrade,andourroutinesweresodifferentIonlywalkedtoschoolwithJemin themornings and saw him at mealtimes. He went out forfootball,butwastooslenderandtooyoungyettodoanythingbutcarrytheteamwaterbuckets.Thishedidwithenthusiasm;mostafternoonshewasseldomhomebeforedark.

TheRadleyPlacehadceased to terrifyme,but itwasno lessgloomy, no less chilly under its great oaks, and no lessuninviting.Mr.NathanRadleycouldstillbeseenonaclearday,walking to and from town; we knew Boo was there, for thesame old reason- nobody'd seen him carried out yet. Isometimes felt a twinge of remorse,when passing by the oldplace,ateverhavingtakenpartinwhatmusthavebeensheertorment to Arthur Radley- what reasonable recluse wantschildren peeping through his shutters, delivering greetings ontheendofafishing-pole,wanderinginhiscollardsatnight?

AndyetIremembered.TwoIndian-headpennies,chewinggum,soapdolls,arustymedal,abrokenwatchandchain.Jemmusthaveput themawaysomewhere. I stoppedand lookedat thetree one afternoon: the trunkwas swelling around its cementpatch.Thepatchitselfwasturningyellow.

We had almost seen him a couple of times, a good enoughscoreforanybody.

ButIstill lookedforhimeachtimeIwentby.Maybesomedaywe would see him. I imagined how it would be: when ithappened,he'djustbesittingintheswingwhenIcamealong.

"Hidy do, Mr. Arthur," I would say, as if I had said it everyafternoonofmylife."Evening,JeanLouise,"hewouldsay,asifhe had said it every afternoon of my life, "right pretty spellwe'rehaving,isn'tit?""Yessir,rightpretty,"Iwouldsay,andgoon.

Itwasonlyafantasy.Wewouldneverseehim.HeprobablydidgooutwhenthemoonwasdownandgazeuponMissStephanieCrawford. I'd have picked somebody else to look at, but thatwashisbusiness.Hewouldnevergazeatus.

"Youaren'tstartingthatagain,areyou?"saidAtticusonenight,whenIexpressedastraydesirejusttohaveonegoodlookatBoo Radley before I died. "If you are, I'll tell you right now:stop it. I'mtooold togochasingyouoff theRadleyproperty.Besides, it's dangerous. You might get shot. You know Mr.Nathan shoots at every shadow he sees, even shadows thatleavesize-fourbarefootprints.Youwereluckynottobekilled."

I hushed then and there. At the same time I marveled atAtticus. This was the first he had let us know he knew a lotmore about something than we thought he knew. And it hadhappenedyearsago.No,onlylastsummer-no,summerbeforelast,when... timewasplayingtricksonme.ImustremembertoaskJem.

Somanythingshadhappenedtous,BooRadleywastheleastofourfears.Atticussaidhedidn'tseehowanythingelsecouldhappen, that things had a way of settling down, and afterenough time passed peoplewould forget that TomRobinson'sexistencewaseverbroughttotheirattention.

PerhapsAtticuswasright,buttheeventsofthesummerhungover us like smoke in a closed room. The adults in MaycombneverdiscussedthecasewithJemandme;itseemedthattheydiscussed it with their children, and their attitude must havebeenthatneitherofuscouldhelphavingAtticusforaparent,sotheirchildrenmustbenicetousinspiteofhim.Thechildren

would never have thought that up for themselves: had ourclassmates been left to their own devices, Jem and I wouldhave had several swift, satisfying fist-fights apiece and endedthematterforgood.Asitwas,wewerecompelledtoholdourheadshighandbe, respectively,agentlemananda lady. Inaway,itwasliketheeraofMrs.HenryLafayetteDubose,withoutall heryelling.Therewasoneodd thing, though, that Ineverunderstood: in spite of Atticus's shortcomings as a parent,peoplewerecontenttore-electhimtothestatelegislaturethatyear,asusual,withoutopposition.Icametotheconclusionthatpeople were just peculiar, I withdrew from them, and neverthoughtaboutthemuntilIwasforcedto.

I was forced to one day in school. Once a week, we had aCurrentEventsperiod.Eachchildwassupposedtoclipanitemfromanewspaper,absorbitscontents,andrevealthemtotheclass. This practice allegedly overcame a variety of evils:standing in front of his fellows encouraged good posture andgave a child poise; delivering a short talk made him word-conscious;learninghiscurrenteventstrengthenedhismemory;beingsingledoutmadehimmorethaneveranxioustoreturntotheGroup.

Theideawasprofound,butasusual,inMaycombitdidn'tworkvery well. In the first place, few rural children had access tonewspapers,sotheburdenofCurrentEventswasbornebythetownchildren,convincingthebuschildrenmoredeeplythatthetown children got all the attention anyway. The rural childrenwhocould,usuallybroughtclippingsfromwhattheycalledTheGritPaper,apublicationspuriousintheeyesofMissGates,ourteacher.Why she frownedwhen a child recited from TheGritPaper I never knew, but in some way it was associated withliking fiddling, eating syrupy biscuits for lunch, being a holy-roller, singing Sweetly Sings the Donkey and pronouncing itdunkey,allofwhichthestatepaidteacherstodiscourage.

Evenso,notmanyof thechildrenknewwhataCurrentEventwas.LittleChuckLittle,ahundredyearsoldinhisknowledgeof

cows and their habits,was halfway through anUncleNatchellstory when Miss Gates stopped him: "Charles, that is not acurrentevent.Thatisanadvertisement."

CecilJacobsknewwhatonewas,though.Whenhisturncame,hewenttothefrontoftheroomandbegan,"OldHitler-"

"AdolfHitler,Cecil,"saidMissGates."OneneverbeginswithOldanybody."

"Yes ma'am," he said. "Old Adolf Hitler has been prosecutin'the-"

"PersecutingCecil...."

"Nome,MissGates, it sayshere-wellanyway,oldAdolfHitlerhasbeenaftertheJewsandhe'sputtin''eminprisonsandhe'stakingawayalltheirpropertyandhewon'tletanyof'emoutofthecountryandhe'swashin'allthefeeble-mindedand-"

"Washingthefeeble-minded?"

"Yesma'am,MissGates,Ireckontheydon'thavesenseenoughtowash themselves, Idon't reckonan idiot couldkeephisselfclean.Well anyway,Hitler's startedaprogram to roundupallthe half-Jews too and he wants to register 'em in case theymight wanta cause him any trouble and I think this is a badthingandthat'smycurrentevent."

"Very good, Cecil," saidMiss Gates. Puffing, Cecil returned tohisseat.

Ahandwentupinthebackoftheroom."Howcanhedothat?"

"Whodowhat?"askedMissGatespatiently.

"ImeanhowcanHitlerjustputalotoffolksinapenlikethat,lookslikethegovamint'dstophim,"saidtheownerofthehand.

"Hitler is the government," said Miss Gates, and seizing anopportunity to make education dynamic, she went to theblackboard. She printed DEMOCRACY in large letters."Democracy,"shesaid."Doesanybodyhaveadefinition?"

"Us,"somebodysaid.

Iraisedmyhand,rememberinganoldcampaignsloganAtticushadoncetoldmeabout.

"Whatdoyouthinkitmeans,JeanLouise?"

"'Equalrightsforall,specialprivilegesfornone,'"Iquoted.

"Verygood,JeanLouise,verygood,"MissGatessmiled.Infrontof DEMOCRACY, she printedWE ARE A. "Now class, say it alltogether,'Weareademocracy.'"

Wesaidit.ThenMissGatessaid,"That'sthedifferencebetweenAmericaandGermany.WeareademocracyandGermany isadictatorship. Dictator-ship," she said. "Over here we don'tbelieveinpersecutinganybody.Persecutioncomesfrompeoplewhoareprejudiced.Prejudice,"sheenunciatedcarefully."TherearenobetterpeopleintheworldthantheJews,andwhyHitlerdoesn'tthinksoisamysterytome."

An inquiring soul in themiddle of the room said, "Why don'ttheyliketheJews,youreckon,MissGates?"

"Idon'tknow,Henry.Theycontributetoeverysocietytheylivein,andmostofall, theyareadeeplyreligiouspeople.Hitler'stryingtodoawaywithreligion,somaybehedoesn'tlikethemforthatreason."

Cecilspokeup."WellIdon'tknowforcertain,"hesaid,"they'resupposedtochangemoneyorsomethin',butthatain'tnocausetopersecute'em.They'rewhite,ain'tthey?"

Miss Gates said, "When you get to high school, Cecil, you'll

learnthattheJewshavebeenpersecutedsincethebeginningofhistory, even driven out of their own country. It's one of themostterriblestoriesinhistory.Timeforarithmetic,children."

AsIhadnever likedarithmetic,Ispenttheperiod lookingoutthewindow.Theonly timeIeversawAtticusscowlwaswhenElmer Davis would give us the latest on Hitler. Atticus wouldsnap off the radio and say, "Hmp!" I asked him oncewhy hewas impatient with Hitler and Atticus said, "Because he's amaniac."

This would not do, I mused, as the class proceeded with itssums.OnemaniacandmillionsofGermanfolks.Lookedtomelikethey'dshutHitlerinapeninsteadoflettinghimshutthemup. There was something else wrong- I would askmy fatheraboutit.

I did, and he said he could not possibly answermy questionbecausehedidn'tknowtheanswer.

"Butit'sokaytohateHitler?"

"Itisnot,"hesaid."It'snotokaytohateanybody."

"Atticus," I said, "there's somethin' I don't understand. MissGatessaid itwasawful,Hitlerdoin' likehedoes, shegot realredinthefaceaboutit-"

"Ishouldthinkshewould."

"But-"

"Yes?"

"Nothing, sir." I went away, not sure that I could explain toAtticuswhatwasonmymind,notsurethatIcouldclarifywhatwasonlyafeeling.PerhapsJemcouldprovidetheanswer.JemunderstoodschoolthingsbetterthanAtticus.

Jemwaswornout fromaday'swater-carrying.Therewereatleasttwelvebananapeelsonthefloorbyhisbed,surroundinganemptymilkbottle."Whatchastuffin'for?"Iasked.

"CoachsaysifIcangaintwenty-fivepoundsbyyearafternextIcanplay,"hesaid."Thisisthequickestway."

"If you don't throw it all up. Jem," I said, "I wanta ask yousomethin'."

"Shoot."Heputdownhisbookandstretchedhislegs.

"MissGatesisanicelady,ain'tshe?"

"Whysure,"saidJem."IlikedherwhenIwasinherroom."

"ShehatesHitleralot..."

"What'swrongwiththat?

"

"Well,shewentontodayabouthowbaditwashimtreatin'theJewslikethat.Jem,it'snotrighttopersecuteanybody,isit?Imeanhavemeanthoughtsaboutanybody,even,isit?"

"Graciousno,Scout.What'seatin'you?"

"Well,comingoutofthecourthousethatnightMissGateswas-shewasgoin'downthestepsinfrontofus,youmustanotseenher-shewastalkingwithMissStephanieCrawford.Iheardhersay it's timesomebody taught 'ema lesson, theyweregettin'wayabovethemselves,an' thenext thing they think theycando ismarryus.Jem,howcanyouhateHitlersobadan' thenturnaroundandbeuglyaboutfolksrightathome-"

Jemwassuddenly furious.He leapedoff thebed,grabbedmeby the collar and shook me. "I never wanta hear about thatcourthouseagain,ever,ever,youhearme?Youhearme?Don't

youeversayonewordtomeaboutitagain,youhear?Nowgoon!"

Iwastoosurprisedtocry.IcreptfromJem'sroomandshutthedoorsoftly,lestunduenoisesethimoffagain.Suddenlytired,Iwanted Atticus. He was in the livingroom, and I went to himandtriedtogetinhislap.

Atticussmiled."You'regettingsobignow,I'lljusthavetoholdapartofyou."Heheldmeclose."Scout,"hesaidsoftly,"don'tletJemgetyoudown.He'shavingaroughtimethesedays.Iheardyoubackthere."

AtticussaidthatJemwastryinghardtoforgetsomething,butwhathewasreallydoingwasstoringitawayforawhile,untilenough timepassed. Thenhewould be able to think about itand sort thingsout.Whenhewasable to thinkabout it, Jemwouldbehimselfagain.

27

Things did settle down, after a fashion, as Atticus said theywould.By themiddleofOctober,only twosmall thingsoutoftheordinaryhappenedtotwoMaycombcitizens.No,therewerethreethings,andtheydidnotdirectlyconcernus-theFinches-butinawaytheydid.

ThefirstthingwasthatMr.BobEwellacquiredandlostajobina matter of days and probably made himself unique in theannals of the nineteen-thirties: he was the only man I everheardofwhowasfiredfromtheWPAforlaziness.Isupposehisbriefburstof famebroughtonabrieferburstof industry,buthis job lasted only as long as his notoriety: Mr. Ewell foundhimselfas forgottenasTomRobinson.Thereafter,he resumedhis regular weekly appearances at the welfare office for hischeck, and received itwithnograceamidobscuremutteringsthat the bastards who thought they ran this town wouldn'tpermitanhonestmantomakealiving.RuthJones,thewelfarelady, saidMr. Ewell openly accused Atticus of getting his job.ShewasupsetenoughtowalkdowntoAtticus'sofficeandtellhimaboutit.AtticustoldMissRuthnottofret,thatifBobEwellwantedtodiscussAtticus's"getting"his job,heknewthewaytotheoffice.

The second thing happened to Judge Taylor. Judge Taylorwasnot aSunday-night churchgoer:Mrs. Taylorwas. JudgeTaylorsavored his Sunday night hour alone in his big house, andchurchtimefoundhimholedupinhisstudyreadingthewritingsofBobTaylor(nokin,butthejudgewouldhavebeenproudtoclaimit).OneSundaynight, lostinfruitymetaphorsandfloriddiction,JudgeTaylor'sattentionwaswrenchedfromthepagebyanirritatingscratchingnoise."Hush,"hesaidtoAnnTaylor,hisfat nondescript dog. Then he realized he was speaking to an

emptyroom;thescratchingnoisewascomingfromtherearofthehouse. JudgeTaylorclumped to thebackporch to letAnnoutandfoundthescreendoorswingingopen.Ashadowonthecornerofthehousecaughthiseye,andthatwasallhesawofhis visitor. Mrs. Taylor came home from church to find herhusband inhis chair, lost in thewritings ofBobTaylor,with ashotgunacrosshislap.

The third thing happened to Helen Robinson, Tom's widow. IfMr.EwellwasasforgottenasTomRobinson,TomRobinsonwasas forgottenasBooRadley.ButTomwasnot forgottenbyhisemployer,Mr.LinkDeas.Mr.LinkDeasmadeajobforHelen.Hedidn't really needher, but he said he felt right bad about theway things turned out. I never knew who took care of herchildrenwhile Helenwas away. Calpurnia said it was hard onHelen,becauseshehadtowalknearlyamileoutofherwaytoavoidtheEwells,who,accordingtoHelen,"chunkedather"thefirst time she tried to use the public road. Mr. Link Deaseventually received the impression that Helen was coming toworkeachmorningfromthewrongdirection,anddraggedthereasonoutof her. "Just let it be,Mr. Link,please suh,"Helenbegged."ThehellIwill,"saidMr.Link.Hetoldhertocomebyhis store thatafternoonbefore she left.Shedid,andMr. Linkclosed his store, put his hat firmly on his head, and walkedHelenhome.Hewalkedher the shortway,by theEwells'.Onhiswayback,Mr.Linkstoppedatthecrazygate.

"Ewell?"hecalled."IsayEwell!"

Thewindows,normallypackedwithchildren,wereempty.

"I knowevery last one of you's in there a-layin' on the floor!Nowhearme,BobEwell:ifIhearonemorepeepoutamygirlHelenaboutnotbein'abletowalkthisroadI'llhaveyouinjailbeforesundown!"Mr.Linkspatinthedustandwalkedhome.

Helen went to work next morning and used the public road.Nobodychunkedather,butwhenshewasafewyardsbeyond

theEwellhouse,she lookedaroundandsawMr.Ewellwalkingbehindher.She turnedandwalkedon,andMr.Ewellkept thesame distance behind her until she reached Mr. Link Deas'shouse.All theway to thehouse,Helensaid, shehearda softvoice behind her, crooning foul words. Thoroughly frightened,shetelephonedMr.Linkathisstore,whichwasnottoofarfromhishouse.AsMr. Linkcameoutofhis storehesawMr.Ewellleaningonthefence.Mr.Ewellsaid,"Don'tyoulookatme,LinkDeas,likeIwasdirt.Iain'tjumpedyour-"

"Firstthingyoucando,Ewell,isgetyourstinkin'carcassoffmyproperty.You'releanin'onitan'Ican'taffordfreshpaintforit.SecondthingyoucandoisstayawayfrommycookorI'llhaveyouupforassault-"

"I ain't touchedher, LinkDeas, and ain't about to gowith nonigger!"

"You don't have to touch her, all you have to do ismake herafraid,an'ifassaultain'tenoughtokeepyoulockedupawhile,I'llgetyouinontheLadies'Law,sogetoutamysight!Ifyoudon'tthinkImeanit,justbotherthatgirlagain!"

Mr.Ewellevidentlythoughthemeant it, forHelenreportednofurthertrouble.

"I don't like it, Atticus, I don't like it at all," was AuntAlexandra's assessment of these events. "Thatman seems tohaveapermanentrunninggrudgeagainsteverybodyconnectedwith that case. I know how that kind are about paying offgrudges,butIdon'tunderstandwhyheshouldharborone-hehadhiswayincourt,didn'the?"

"I think I understand," said Atticus. "It might be because heknows in his heart that very few people in Maycomb reallybelievedhisandMayella'syarns.Hethoughthe'dbeahero,butallhegotforhispainwas...was,okay,we'llconvictthisNegrobut get back to your dump. He's had his fling with about

everybody now, so he ought to be satisfied. He'll settle downwhentheweatherchanges."

"But why should he try to burgle John Taylor's house? Heobviously didn't know Johnwashomeor hewouldn't've tried.OnlylightsJohnshowsonSundaynightsareonthefrontporchandbackinhisden..."

"You don't know if Bob Ewell cut that screen, you don't knowwhodid it,"saidAtticus."ButIcanguess.Iprovedhima liarbut Johnmadehim look likea fool.All the timeEwellwasonthestandIcouldn'tdarelookatJohnandkeepastraightface.John looked at himas if hewere a three-legged chickenor asquareegg.Don'ttellmejudgesdon'ttrytoprejudicejuries,"Atticuschuckled.

BytheendofOctober,ourliveshadbecomethefamiliarroutineofschool,play,study.Jemseemedtohaveputoutofhismindwhatever it was he wanted to forget, and our classmatesmercifully let us forget our father's eccentricities.Cecil Jacobsasked me one time if Atticus was a Radical. When I askedAtticus, Atticuswas so amused I was rather annoyed, but hesaidhewasn'tlaughingatme.Hesaid,"YoutellCecilI'maboutasradicalasCottonTomHeflin."

Aunt Alexandrawas thriving.MissMaudiemust have silencedthewholemissionarysocietyatoneblow,forAuntyagainruledthat roost. Her refreshments grew even more delicious. IlearnedmoreaboutthepoorMrunas'sociallifefromlisteningtoMrs.Merriweather: they had so little sense of family that thewholetribewasonebigfamily.Achildhadasmanyfathersasthereweremen in thecommunity,asmanymothersas therewerewomen.J.GrimesEverettwasdoinghisutmosttochangethisstateofaffairs,anddesperatelyneededourprayers.

Maycombwasitselfagain.Preciselythesameas lastyearandthe year before that, with only two minor changes. Firstly,peoplehadremovedfromtheirstorewindowsandautomobiles

the stickers that saidNRA-WEDOOURPART. I askedAtticuswhy,andhesaiditwasbecausetheNationalRecoveryActwasdead.Iaskedwhokilledit:hesaidnineoldmen.

ThesecondchangeinMaycombsincelastyearwasnotoneofnational significance.Until then,Halloween inMaycombwasacompletelyunorganizedaffair.Eachchilddidwhathewantedtodo,withassistancefromotherchildreniftherewasanythingtobemoved, such as placing a light buggy on top of the liverystable.Butparentsthoughtthingswenttoofarlastyear,whenthepeaceofMissTuttiandMissFruttiwasshattered.

MissesTuttiandFruttiBarberweremaidenladies,sisters,wholivedtogetherintheonlyMaycombresidenceboastingacellar.The Barber ladies were rumored to be Republicans, havingmigrated from Clanton, Alabama, in 1911. Their ways werestrangetous,andwhytheywantedacellarnobodyknew,buttheywantedoneandtheydugone,andtheyspenttherestoftheirliveschasinggenerationsofchildrenoutofit.

MissesTutti andFrutti (theirnameswereSarahandFrances),asidefromtheirYankeeways,werebothdeaf.MissTuttidenieditand lived inaworldofsilence,butMissFrutti,notabout tomissanything,employedaneartrumpetsoenormousthatJemdeclareditwasaloudspeakerfromoneofthosedogVictrolas.

Withthesefacts inmindandHalloweenathand,somewickedchildren had waited until the Misses Barber were thoroughlyasleep, slipped into their livingroom (nobody but the Radleyslocked up at night), stealthilymade away with every stick offurniture therein, and hid it in the cellar. I deny having takenpartinsuchathing.

"I heard 'em!" was the cry that awoke the Misses Barber'sneighborsatdawnnextmorning."Heard'emdriveatruckuptothedoor!Stompedaroundlikehorses.They're inNewOrleansbynow!"

MissTuttiwassurethosetravelingfursellerswhocamethroughtown two days ago had purloined their furniture. "Da-rk theywere,"shesaid."Syrians."

Mr.HeckTatewassummoned.Hesurveyed theareaandsaidhe thought it was a local job. Miss Frutti said she'd know aMaycombvoiceanywhere,and therewerenoMaycombvoicesin thatparlor lastnight- rolling their r'salloverherpremises,theywere.Nothinglessthanthebloodhoundsmustbeusedtolocatetheirfurniture,MissTuttiinsisted,soMr.Tatewasobligedtogotenmilesouttheroad,roundupthecountyhounds,andputthemonthetrail.

Mr.TatestartedthemoffattheMissesBarber'sfrontsteps,butalltheydidwasrunaroundtothebackofthehouseandhowlat the cellar door. When Mr. Tate set them in motion threetimes,hefinallyguessedthetruth.Bynoontimethatday,therewasnotabarefootedchildtobeseeninMaycombandnobodytookoffhisshoesuntilthehoundswerereturned.

SotheMaycombladiessaidthingswouldbedifferentthisyear.The high-school auditorium would be open, there would be apageant for the grown-ups; apple-bobbing, taffy-pulling,pinningthetailonthedonkeyforthechildren.Therewouldalsobeaprizeoftwenty-fivecentsforthebestHalloweencostume,createdbythewearer.

JemandIbothgroaned.Not thatwe'deverdoneanything, itwas theprincipleof the thing. Jemconsideredhimself toooldforHalloweenanyway;hesaidhewouldn'tbecaughtanywherenearthehighschoolatsomethinglikethat.Ohwell,Ithought,Atticuswouldtakeme.

Isoonlearned,however,thatmyserviceswouldberequiredonstagethatevening.Mrs.GraceMerriweatherhadcomposedanoriginalpageantentitledMaycombCounty:AdAstraPerAspera,and I was to be a ham. She thought it would be adorable ifsomeof thechildrenwerecostumedtorepresent thecounty's

agriculturalproducts:CecilJacobswouldbedresseduptolooklike a cow; Agnes Boone would make a lovely butterbean,another child would be a peanut, and on down the line untilMrs.Merriweather'simaginationandthesupplyofchildrenwereexhausted.

Our only duties, as far as I could gather from our tworehearsals,weretoenter fromstage leftasMrs.Merriweather(notonlytheauthor,butthenarrator) identifiedus.Whenshecalled out, "Pork," that was my cue. Then the assembledcompanywould sing, "MaycombCounty,MaycombCounty,wewill aye be true to thee," as the grand finale, and Mrs.Merriweatherwouldmountthestagewiththestateflag.

My costumewas notmuch of a problem.Mrs. Crenshaw, thelocal seamstress, had as much imagination as Mrs.Merriweather.Mrs.Crenshawtooksomechickenwireandbentit intotheshapeofacuredham.Thisshecoveredwithbrowncloth, and painted it to resemble the original. I could duckunder and someonewould pull the contraption downovermyhead.Itcamealmosttomyknees.Mrs.Crenshawthoughtfullylefttwopeepholesforme.Shedidafinejob.JemsaidIlookedexactly like a hamwith legs. Therewere several discomforts,though: it was hot, it was a close fit; if my nose itched Icouldn'tscratch,andonceinsideIcouldnotgetoutofitalone.

WhenHalloweencame,Iassumedthatthewholefamilywouldbe present to watch me perform, but I was disappointed.Atticussaidastactfullyashecouldthathejustdidn'tthinkhecould stand a pageant tonight, hewas all in. He had been inMontgomery for a week and had come home late thatafternoon.HethoughtJemmightescortmeifIaskedhim.

AuntAlexandrasaidshejusthadtogettobedearly,she'dbeendecorating the stage all afternoon and was worn out- shestopped short in the middle of her sentence. She closed hermouth,thenopenedittosaysomething,butnowordscame.

"'smatter,Aunty?"Iasked.

"Oh nothing, nothing," she said, "somebody just walked overmygrave."Sheputaway fromherwhatever itwas thatgaveherapinprickof apprehension, and suggested that I give thefamily a preview in the livingroom.So Jem squeezedme intomycostume,stoodatthelivingroomdoor,calledout"Po-ork,"exactlyasMrs.Merriweatherwouldhavedone,andImarchedin.AtticusandAuntAlexandraweredelighted.

Irepeatedmypart forCalpurnia inthekitchenandshesaidIwaswonderful. Iwanted togoacross thestreet to showMissMaudie,butJemsaidshe'dprobablybeatthepageantanyway.

Afterthat, itdidn'tmatterwhethertheywentornot.Jemsaidhewouldtakeme.Thusbeganourlongestjourneytogether.

28

Theweatherwas unusuallywarm for the last day of October.We didn't even need jackets. Thewindwas growing stronger,and Jem said itmight be raining before we got home. Therewasnomoon.

ThestreetlightonthecornercastsharpshadowsontheRadleyhouse. I heard Jem laugh softly. "Bet nobody bothers themtonight," he said. Jem was carryingmy ham costume, ratherawkwardly,asitwashardtohold.Ithoughtitgallantofhimtodoso.

"Itisascaryplacethough,ain'tit?"Isaid."Boodoesn'tmeananybodyanyharm,butI'mrightgladyou'realong."

"You know Atticus wouldn't let you go to the schoolhouse byyourself,"Jemsaid.

"Don'tseewhy,it'sjustaroundthecornerandacrosstheyard."

"Thatyard'samightylongplaceforlittlegirlstocrossatnight,"Jemteased."Ain'tyouscaredofhaints?"

Welaughed.Haints,HotSteams,incantations,secretsigns,hadvanishedwith our years asmistwith sunrise. "Whatwas thatold thing," Jem said, "Angel bright, life-in-death; get off theroad,don'tsuckmybreath."

"Cutitout,now,"Isaid.WewereinfrontoftheRadleyPlace.

Jemsaid,"Boomustnotbeathome.Listen."

Highaboveusinthedarknessasolitarymockerpouredouthisrepertoire in blissful unawareness of whose tree he sat in,

plunging from the shrill kee, kee of the sunflower bird to theirascible qua-ack of a bluejay, to the sad lament of PoorWill,PoorWill,PoorWill.

We turned the corner and I tripped on a root growing in theroad.Jemtriedtohelpme,butallhedidwasdropmycostumeinthedust.Ididn'tfall,though,andsoonwewereonourwayagain.

Weturnedofftheroadandenteredtheschoolyard.Itwaspitchblack.

"Howdoyouknowwherewe'reat,Jem?"Iasked,whenwehadgoneafewsteps.

"I can tell we're under the big oak because we're passin'throughacoolspot.Carefulnow,anddon'tfallagain."

We had slowed to a cautious gait, and were feeling our wayforwardsoasnottobumpintothetree.Thetreewasasingleandancientoak;twochildrencouldnotreacharounditstrunkand touch hands. It was far away from teachers, their spies,and curious neighbors: it was near the Radley lot, but theRadleys were not curious. A small patch of earth beneath itsbranches was packed hard frommany fights and furtive crapgames.

The lights in the high school auditorium were blazing in thedistance, but they blinded us, if anything. "Don't look ahead,Scout,"Jemsaid."Lookatthegroundandyouwon'tfall."

"Youshouldhavebroughttheflashlight,Jem."

"Didn'tknow itwas thisdark.Didn't look like it'dbe thisdarkearlier in the evening. So cloudy, that's why. It'll hold off awhile,though."

Someoneleapedatus.

"Godalmighty!"Jemyelled.

Acircleof lightburst inour faces,andCecil Jacobs jumped inglee behind it. "Ha-a-a, gotcha!" he shrieked. "Thought you'dbecomin'alongthisway!"

"What are you doin'way out here by yourself, boy? Ain't youscaredofBooRadley?"

Cecil had ridden safely to the auditorium with his parents,hadn't seen us, then had ventured down this far because heknew good and well we'd be coming along. He thought Mr.Finch'dbewithus,though.

"Shucks, ain'tmuchbut around the corner," said Jem. "Who'sscared to go around the corner?"We had to admit that Cecilwasprettygood,though.Hehadgivenusafright,andhecouldtellitallovertheschoolhouse,thatwashisprivilege.

"Say,"Isaid,"ain'tyouacowtonight?Where'syourcostume?"

"It'supbehindthestage,"hesaid."Mrs.Merriweathersaysthepageantain'tcomin'onforawhile.Youcanputyoursbackofthestagebymine,Scout,andwecangowiththerestof'em."

Thiswasanexcellent idea, Jem thought.Healso thought it agood thing that Cecil and Iwould be together. Thisway, Jemwouldbelefttogowithpeoplehisownage.

When we reached the auditorium, the whole town was thereexceptAtticusandtheladieswornoutfromdecorating,andtheusualoutcastsandshut-ins.Mostofthecounty,itseemed,wasthere:thehallwasteemingwithslicked-upcountrypeople.Thehigh school building had a wide downstairs hallway; peoplemilledaroundboothsthathadbeeninstalledalongeachside.

"OhJem.Iforgotmymoney,"Isighed,whenIsawthem.

"Atticusdidn't," Jemsaid. "Here's thirty cents, you cando six

things.Seeyoulateron."

"Okay,"Isaid,quitecontentwiththirtycentsandCecil.IwentwithCecildowntothefrontoftheauditorium,throughadoorononeside,andbackstage.Igotridofmyhamcostumeanddeparted in a hurry, for Mrs. Merriweather was standing at alectern in front of the first row of seats making last-minute,frenziedchangesinthescript.

"How much money you got?" I asked Cecil. Cecil had thirtycents, too, which made us even. We squandered our firstnickelsontheHouseofHorrors,whichscaredusnotatall;weenteredtheblackseventh-graderoomandwereledaroundbythe temporary ghoul in residence and were made to touchseveral objects alleged to be component parts of a humanbeing. "Here's his eyes," we were told when we touched twopeeledgrapesonasaucer."Here'shisheart,"whichfeltlikerawliver."Thesearehisinnards,"andourhandswerethrustintoaplateofcoldspaghetti.

Cecil and I visited several booths.We each bought a sack ofMrs. Judge Taylor's homemade divinity. I wanted to bob forapples, but Cecil said it wasn't sanitary. His mother said hemightcatchsomethingfromeverybody'sheadshavingbeeninthe same tub. "Ain't anything around town now to catch," Iprotested. But Cecil said hismother said itwas unsanitary toeatafterfolks.IlateraskedAuntAlexandraaboutthis,andshesaidpeoplewhoheldsuchviewswereusuallyclimbers.

We were about to purchase a blob of taffy when Mrs.Merriweather'srunnersappearedandtoldustogobackstage,itwas timetoget ready.Theauditoriumwas fillingwithpeople;theMaycombCountyHighSchoolbandhadassembledinfrontbelowthestage;thestagefootlightswereonandtheredvelvetcurtainrippledandbillowedfromthescurryinggoingonbehindit.

Backstage,CecilandI found thenarrowhallway teemingwith

people: adults in homemade three-corner hats, Confederatecaps, Spanish-American War hats, and World War helmets.Children dressed as various agricultural enterprises crowdedaroundtheonesmallwindow.

"Somebody's mashed my costume," I wailed in dismay. Mrs.Merriweather galloped tome, reshaped the chickenwire, andthrustmeinside.

"Youall right in there,Scout?" askedCecil. "You sound so faroff,likeyouwasontheothersideofahill."

"Youdon'tsoundanynearer,"Isaid.

The band played the national anthem, and we heard theaudiencerise.Thenthebassdrumsounded.Mrs.Merriweather,stationedbehindher lecternbeside theband, said: "MaycombCounty Ad Astra Per Aspera." The bass drum boomed again."Thatmeans,"saidMrs.Merriweather,translatingfortherusticelements, "from the mud to the stars." She added,unnecessarily,itseemedtome,"Apageant."

"Reckontheywouldn'tknowwhatitwasifshedidn'ttell'em,"whisperedCecil,whowasimmediatelyshushed.

"Thewholetownknowsit,"Ibreathed.

"Butthecountryfolks'vecomein,"Cecilsaid.

"Be quiet back there," a man's voice ordered, and we weresilent.

The bass drum went boom with every sentence Mrs.Merriweatheruttered.ShechantedmournfullyaboutMaycombCounty being older than the state, that it was a part of theMississippiandAlabamaTerritories,thatthefirstwhitemantoset foot in the virgin forests was the Probate Judge's great-grandfatherfivetimesremoved,whowasneverheardofagain.ThencamethefearlessColonelMaycomb,forwhomthecounty

wasnamed.

Andrew Jackson appointed him to a position of authority, andColonelMaycomb'smisplacedself-confidenceandslendersenseof direction brought disaster to all who rode with him in theCreek IndianWars.ColonelMaycombpersevered inhiseffortstomake the regionsafe fordemocracy,buthis first campaignwas his last. His orders, relayed to him by a friendly Indianrunner,weretomovesouth.Afterconsultingatreetoascertainfromitslichenwhichwaywassouth,andtakingnolipfromthesubordinateswhoventuredtocorrecthim,ColonelMaycombsetoutonapurposeful journey to rout theenemyandentangledhistroopssofarnorthwestintheforestprimevalthattheywereeventuallyrescuedbysettlersmovinginland.

Mrs. Merriweather gave a thirty-minute description of ColonelMaycomb'sexploits.IdiscoveredthatifIbentmykneesIcouldtuckthemundermycostumeandmoreorlesssit.Isatdown,listened to Mrs. Merriweather's drone and the bass drum'sboomandwassoonfastasleep.

Theysaid laterthatMrs.Merriweatherwasputtingherall intothe grand finale, that she had crooned, "Po-ork," with aconfidencebornofpinetreesandbutterbeansenteringoncue.Shewaitedafewseconds,thencalled,"Po-ork?"Whennothingmaterialized,sheyelled,"Pork!"

Imusthaveheardher inmysleep,or thebandplayingDixiewoke me, but it was when Mrs. Merriweather triumphantlymountedthestagewiththestateflagthatIchosetomakemyentrance.Choseisincorrect:IthoughtI'dbettercatchupwiththerestofthem.

They told me later that Judge Taylor went out behind theauditorium and stood there slapping his knees so hard Mrs.Taylorbroughthimaglassofwaterandoneofhispills.

Mrs. Merriweather seemed to have a hit, everybody was

cheering so, but she caughtmebackstage and toldme I hadruined her pageant. She made me feel awful, but when Jemcametofetchmehewassympathetic.Hesaidhecouldn'tseemycostumemuchfromwherehewassitting.HowhecouldtellIwasfeelingbadundermycostumeIdon'tknow,buthesaidIdidall right, I justcame ina little late, thatwasall. Jemwasbecoming almost as good as Atticus atmaking you feel rightwhenthingswentwrong.Almost-notevenJemcouldmakemego through that crowd, and he consented to wait backstagewithmeuntiltheaudienceleft.

"Youwantatakeitoff,Scout?"heasked

.

"Naw,I'lljustkeepiton,"Isaid.Icouldhidemymortificationunderit.

"Youallwantaridehome?"someoneasked.

"Nosir,thankyou,"IheardJemsay."It'sjustalittlewalk."

"Becarefulofhaints,"thevoicesaid."Betterstill,tellthehaintstobecarefulofScout."

"Therearen'tmanyfolksleftnow,"Jemtoldme."Let'sgo."

Wewentthroughtheauditoriumtothehallway,thendownthesteps. Itwasstill blackdark.The remainingcarswereparkedontheothersideofthebuilding,andtheirheadlightswerelittlehelp."Ifsomeof 'emweregoin' inourdirectionwecouldseebetter,"saidJem."HereScout,letmeholdontoyour-hock.Youmightloseyourbalance."

"Icanseeallright."

"Yeah,butyoumightloseyourbalance."Ifeltaslightpressureonmyhead, and assumed that Jemhad grabbed that end oftheham."Yougotme?"

"Uhhuh.

"

We began crossing the black schoolyard, straining to see ourfeet."Jem,"Isaid,"Iforgotmyshoes,they'rebackbehindthestage."

"Welllet'sgoget'em."Butasweturnedaroundtheauditoriumlightswentoff."Youcanget'emtomorrow,"hesaid.

"But tomorrow's Sunday," I protested, as Jem turned mehomeward.

"YoucangettheJanitortoletyouin...Scout?"

"Hm?"

"Nothing."

Jemhadn'tstartedthatinalongtime.Iwonderedwhathewasthinking. He'd tellmewhen hewanted to, probablywhenwegothome. I felt his fingers press the topofmy costume, toohard,itseemed.Ishookmyhead."Jem,youdon'thafta-"

"Hushaminute,Scout,"hesaid,pinchingme.

We walked along silently. "Minute's up," I said. "Whatchathinkin' about?" I turned to look at him, but his outline wasbarelyvisible.

"ThoughtIheardsomething,"hesaid."Stopaminute."

Westopped.

"Hearanything?"heasked.

"No."

Wehadnotgonefivepacesbeforehemademestopagain.

"Jem,areyoutryin'toscareme?YouknowI'mtooold-"

"Bequiet,"hesaid,andIknewhewasnotjoking.

Thenightwasstill.Icouldhearhisbreathcomingeasilybesideme.Occasionally therewasa suddenbreeze thathitmybarelegs, but it was all that remained of a promisedwindy night.Thiswasthestillnessbeforeathunderstorm.Welistened.

"Heardanolddogjustthen,"Isaid.

"It's not that," Jem answered. "I hear it when we're walkin'along,butwhenwestopIdon'thearit."

"You hear my costume rustlin'. Aw, it's just Halloween gotyou...."

IsaiditmoretoconvincemyselfthanJem,forsureenough,aswebeganwalking, I heardwhathewas talkingabout. Itwasnotmycostume.

"It'sjustoldCecil,"saidJempresently."Hewon'tgetusagain.Let'sdon'tlethimthinkwe'rehurrying."

Weslowedtoacrawl.IaskedJemhowCecilcouldfollowusinthisdark,lookedtomelikehe'dbumpintousfrombehind.

"Icanseeyou,Scout,"Jemsaid.

"How?Ican'tseeyou."

"Your fatstreaksareshowin'.Mrs.Crenshawpainted 'emwithsomeofthatshinystuffsothey'dshowupunderthefootlights.I can seeyouprettywell, an' I expectCecil can seeyouwellenoughtokeephisdistance."

IwouldshowCecilthatweknewhewasbehindusandwewereready for him. "Cecil Jacobs is a big wet he-en!" I yelled

suddenly,turningaround.

We stopped. There was no acknowledgement save he-enbouncingoffthedistantschoolhousewall.

"I'llgethim,"saidJem."He-y!"

Hay-e-hay-e-hay-ey, answered the schoolhouse wall. It wasunlikeCeciltoholdoutforsolong;oncehepulledajokehe'drepeatittimeandagain.Weshouldhavebeenleaptatalready.Jemsignaledformetostopagain.

Hesaidsoftly,"Scout,canyoutakethatthingoff?"

"Ithinkso,butIain'tgotanythingonunderitmuch."

"I'vegotyourdresshere."

"Ican'tgetitoninthedark."

"Okay,"hesaid,"nevermind."

"Jem,areyouafraid?"

"No.Thinkwe'realmosttothetreenow.Fewyardsfromthat,an'we'llbetotheroad.Wecanseethestreetlightthen."Jemwastalkinginanunhurried,flattonelessvoice.IwonderedhowlonghewouldtrytokeeptheCecilmythgoing.

"Youreckonweoughtasing,Jem?"

"No.Berealquietagain,Scout."

Wehadnot increasedourpace. Jemknewaswellas I that itwas difficult to walk fast without stumping a toe, tripping onstones,andotherinconveniences,andIwasbarefooted.Maybeit was thewind rustling the trees. But therewasn't anywindandthereweren'tanytreesexceptthebigoak.

Ourcompanyshuffledanddraggedhisfeet,asifwearingheavyshoes.Whoeveritwasworethickcottonpants;whatIthoughtwere trees rustling was the soft swish of cotton on cotton,wheek,wheek,witheverystep.

IfeltthesandgocoldundermyfeetandIknewwewerenearthebigoak.Jempressedmyhead.Westoppedandlistened.

Shuffle-foot had not stopped with us this time. His trousersswishedsoftlyandsteadily.Thentheystopped.Hewasrunning,runningtowarduswithnochild'ssteps.

"Run,Scout!Run!Run!"Jemscreamed.

I took one giant step and found myself reeling: my armsuseless,inthedark,Icouldnotkeepmybalance.

"Jem,Jem,helpme,Jem!"

Something crushed the chickenwire aroundme.Metal rippedonmetalandI fell to thegroundandrolledas faras Icould,flounderingtoescapemywireprison.Fromsomewherenearbycame scuffling, kicking sounds, sounds of shoes and fleshscraping dirt and roots. Someone rolled againstmeand I feltJem. He was up like lightning and pulling me with him but,thoughmyheadand shoulderswere free, Iwas soentangledwedidn'tgetveryfar.

Wewerenearly to the roadwhen I felt Jem'shand leaveme,felthimjerkbackwardstotheground.Morescuffling,andtherecameadullcrunchingsoundandJemscreamed.

I ran in the direction of Jem's scream and sank into a flabbymale stomach. Its owner said, "Uff!" and tried to catch myarms,buttheyweretightlypinioned.Hisstomachwassoftbuthisarmswerelikesteel.Heslowlysqueezedthebreathoutofme.Icouldnotmove.Suddenlyhewasjerkedbackwardsandflungon theground, almost carryingmewithhim. I thought,

Jem'sup.

One'smindworksveryslowlyattimes.Stunned,Istoodtheredumbly.Thescufflingnoisesweredying;someonewheezedandthenightwasstillagain.

Still but for a man breathing heavily, breathing heavily andstaggering.Ithoughthewenttothetreeandleanedagainstit.Hecoughedviolently,asobbing,bone-shakingcough.

"Jem?"

Therewasnoanswerbuttheman'sheavybreathing.

"Jem?"

Jemdidn'tanswer.

Themanbeganmovingaround,asifsearchingforsomething.Iheardhimgroanandpullsomethingheavyalongtheground.Itwasslowlycomingtomethattherewerenowfourpeopleunderthetree.

"Atticus...?"

Themanwaswalkingheavilyandunsteadilytowardtheroad.

IwenttowhereIthoughthehadbeenandfeltfranticallyalongthe ground, reaching out with my toes. Presently I touchedsomeone.

"Jem?"

My toes touched trousers, abeltbuckle,buttons, something Icouldnotidentify,acollar,andaface.ApricklystubbleonthefacetoldmeitwasnotJem's.Ismelledstalewhiskey.

ImademywayalonginwhatIthoughtwasthedirectionoftheroad. I was not sure, because I had been turned around so

manytimes.ButIfounditandlookeddowntothestreetlight.A man was passing under it. The man was walking with thestaccato steps of someone carrying a load too heavy for him.Hewas going around the corner. Hewas carrying Jem. Jem'sarmwasdanglingcrazilyinfrontofhim.

By the time I reached the corner the man was crossing ourfront yard. Light from our front door framed Atticus for aninstant;herandownthesteps,andtogether,heandthemantookJeminside.

Iwas at the front doorwhen theywere going down the hall.Aunt Alexandrawas running tomeetme. "Call Dr. Reynolds!"Atticus'svoicecamesharplyfromJem'sroom."Where'sScout?"

"Heresheis,"AuntAlexandracalled,pullingmealongwithherto the telephone. She tugged at me anxiously. "I'm all right,Aunty,"Isaid,"youbettercall.

"

Shepulledthereceiverfromthehookandsaid,"EulaMay,getDr.Reynolds,quick!"

"Agnes, isyourfatherhome?OhGod,whereishe?Pleasetellhim to come over here as soon as he comes in. Please, it'surgent!"

TherewasnoneedforAuntAlexandratoidentifyherself,peopleinMaycombkneweachother'svoices.

Atticus cameout of Jem's room.ThemomentAuntAlexandrabroke the connection, Atticus took the receiver from her. Herattled the hook, then said, "Eula May, get me the sheriff,please."

"Heck?AtticusFinch.Someone'sbeenaftermychildren.Jem'shurt.Betweenhereandtheschoolhouse.Ican'tleavemyboy.Runoutthereforme,please,andseeifhe'sstillaround.Doubt

ifyou'llfindhimnow,butI'dliketoseehimifyoudo.Gottogonow.Thanks,Heck."

"Atticus,isJemdead?"

"No,Scout.Lookafterher,sister,"hecalled,ashewentdownthehall.

AuntAlexandra'sfingerstrembledassheunwoundthecrushedfabricandwirefromaroundme."Areyouallright,darling?"sheaskedoverandoverassheworkedmefree.

Itwasarelieftobeout.Myarmswerebeginningtotingle,andtheywereredwithsmallhexagonalmarks.Irubbedthem,andtheyfeltbetter.

"Aunty,isJemdead?"

"No- no, darling, he's unconscious.Wewon't knowhowbadlyhe's hurt until Dr. Reynolds gets here. Jean Louise, whathappened?"

"Idon'tknow."

She left it at that.Shebroughtme something toput on, andhadIthoughtabout it then,Iwouldhavenever letherforgetit:inherdistraction,Auntybroughtmemyoveralls."Puttheseon, darling," she said, handing me the garments she mostdespised.

Sherushedback toJem's room, thencametome in thehall.Shepattedmevaguely,andwentbacktoJem'sroom.

Acarstoppedinfrontofthehouse.IknewDr.Reynolds'sstepalmostaswellasmyfather's.HehadbroughtJemandmeintotheworld,hadledusthrougheverychildhooddiseaseknowntoman including the time Jem fell out of the treehouse, and hehadneverlostourfriendship.Dr.Reynoldssaidifwehadbeenboil-pronethingswouldhavebeendifferent,butwedoubtedit.

Hecameinthedoorandsaid,"GoodLord."Hewalkedtowardme, said, "You're still standing," and changed his course. Heknewevery room in thehouse.He also knew that if Iwas inbadshape,sowasJem.

After ten forevers Dr. Reynolds returned. "Is Jem dead?" Iasked.

"Farfromit,"hesaid,squattingdowntome."He'sgotabumpontheheadjustlikeyours,andabrokenarm.Scout,lookthatway- no, don't turn your head, roll your eyes. Now look overyonder.He'sgotabadbreak,sofarasIcantellnowit'sintheelbow.Likesomebodytriedtowringhisarmoff...Nowlookatme."

"Thenhe'snotdead?"

"No-o!" Dr. Reynolds got to his feet. "We can't do muchtonight,"hesaid,"excepttrytomakehimascomfortableaswecan.We'llhavetoX-rayhisarm-lookslikehe'llbewearinghisarm'wayoutbyhissideforawhile.Don'tworry,though,he'llbeasgoodasnew.Boyshisagebounce."

Whilehewastalking,Dr.Reynoldshadbeen lookingkeenlyatme, lightly fingering the bump that was coming on myforehead."Youdon'tfeelbrokeanywhere,doyou?"

Dr.Reynolds'ssmalljokemademesmile."Thenyoudon'tthinkhe'sdead,then?"

Heputonhishat."NowImaybewrong,ofcourse,butIthinkhe'sveryalive.Showsallthesymptomsofit.Gohavealookathim,andwhenIcomebackwe'llgettogetheranddecide."

Dr. Reynolds's stepwas young and brisk.Mr.Heck Tate'swasnot. His heavy boots punished the porch and he opened thedoorawkwardly,buthesaid thesame thingDr.Reynoldssaidwhenhecamein."Youallright,Scout?"headded.

"Yessir,I'mgoin'intoseeJem.Atticus'n'them'sinthere."

"I'llgowithyou,"saidMr.Tate.

AuntAlexandrahadshadedJem'sreadinglightwithatowel,andhisroomwasdim.Jemwaslyingonhisback.Therewasanuglymarkalongonesideofhisface.Hisleftarmlayoutfromhisbody;hiselbowwasbentslightly,butinthewrongdirection.Jemwasfrowning.

"Jem...?"

Atticusspoke. "Hecan'thearyou,Scout,he'sout likea light.Hewascomingaround,butDr.Reynoldsputhimoutagain."

"Yes sir." I retreated. Jem's roomwas large and square. AuntAlexandra was sitting in a rocking-chair by the fireplace. Theman who brought Jem in was standing in a corner, leaningagainstthewall.HewassomecountrymanIdidnotknow.Hehadprobablybeenatthepageant,andwasinthevicinitywhenit happened. He must have heard our screams and comerunning.

AtticuswasstandingbyJem'sbed.

Mr. Heck Tate stood in the doorway. His hatwas in his hand,and a flashlight bulged from his pants pocket. He was in hisworkingclothes.

"Come in,Heck," said Atticus. "Did you find anything? I can'tconceiveofanyonelow-downenoughtodoathinglikethis,butIhopeyoufoundhim."

Mr.Tate sniffed.Heglanced sharplyat theman in the corner,noddedtohim,thenlookedaroundtheroom-atJem,atAuntAlexandra,thenatAtticus.

"Sitdown,Mr.Finch,"hesaidpleasantly.

Atticus said, "Let's all sit down.Have that chair,Heck. I'll getanotheronefromthelivingroom."

Mr.TatesatinJem'sdeskchair.HewaiteduntilAtticusreturnedandsettledhimself.IwonderedwhyAtticushadnotbroughtachair for theman in the corner, butAtticusknew thewaysofcountrypeoplefarbetterthanI.Someofhisruralclientswouldpark their long-earedsteedsunder thechinaberry trees in theback yard, andAtticuswould often keepappointments on thebacksteps.Thisonewasprobablymorecomfortablewherehewas.

"Mr.Finch,"saidMr.Tate,"tellyouwhatIfound.Ifoundalittlegirl'sdress-it'soutthereinmycar.Thatyourdress,Scout?"

"Yes sir, if it's a pinkonewith smockin'," I said.Mr. Tatewasbehaving as if he were on thewitness stand. He liked to tellthings his own way, untrammeled by state or defense, andsometimesittookhimawhile.

"Ifoundsomefunny-lookingpiecesofmuddy-coloredcloth-"

"That'sm'costume,Mr.Tate."

Mr.Tateranhishandsdownhisthighs.Herubbedhisleftarmand investigated Jem's mantelpiece, then he seemed to beinterestedinthefireplace.Hisfingerssoughthislongnose.

"Whatisit,Heck?"saidAtticus.

Mr.Tatefoundhisneckandrubbedit."BobEwell'slyin'onthegroundunderthattreedownyonderwithakitchenknifestuckupunderhisribs.He'sdead,Mr.Finch."

29

Aunt Alexandra got up and reached for the mantelpiece. Mr.Tate rose, but she declined assistance. For once in his life,Atticus'sinstinctivecourtesyfailedhim:hesatwherehewas"

.

Somehow,IcouldthinkofnothingbutMr.BobEwellsayinghe'dgetAtticusifittookhimtherestofhislife.Mr.Ewellalmostgothim,anditwasthelastthinghedid."

"Areyousure?"Atticussaidbleakly."

"He's dead all right," said Mr. Tate. "He's good and dead. Hewon'thurtthesechildrenagain.""

"Ididn'tmeanthat."Atticusseemedtobetalkinginhissleep.His agewasbeginning to show,his one signof inner turmoil,thestronglineofhisjawmeltedalittle,onebecameawareoftelltalecreasesformingunderhisears,onenoticednothisjet-blackhairbutthegraypatchesgrowingathistemples."

"Hadn'twebettergotothelivingroom?"AuntAlexandrasaidatlast."

"Ifyoudon'tmind,"saidMr.Tate,"I'dratherusstayinhereifitwon'thurtJemany.Iwanttohavealookathis injurieswhileScout...tellsusaboutit.""

"Is itall right if I leave?"sheasked. "I'm justoneperson toomanyinhere.I'llbeinmyroomifyouwantme,Atticus."AuntAlexandra went to the door, but she stopped and turned."Atticus,Ihadafeelingaboutthistonight-I-thisismyfault,"shebegan."Ishouldhave-""

Mr. Tate held up his hand. "You go ahead, Miss Alexandra, Iknowit'sbeenashocktoyou.Anddon'tyoufretyourselfaboutanything-why, ifwefollowedourfeelingsall thetimewe'dbelike cats chasin' their tails. Miss Scout, see if you can tell uswhathappened,whileit'sstillfreshinyourmind.Youthinkyoucan?Didyouseehimfollowingyou?""

IwenttoAtticusandfelthisarmsgoaroundme.Iburiedmyhead in his lap. "We started home. I said Jem, I've forgotm'shoes. Soon'swe started back for 'em the lightswent out.JemsaidIcouldget'emtomorrow....""

"Scout, raise up so Mr. Tate can hear you," Atticus said. Icrawledintohislap."

"Then Jem said hush aminute. I thought hewas thinkin'- healways wants you to hush so he can think- then he said heheardsomethin'.WethoughtitwasCecil.""

"Cecil?""

"CecilJacobs.Hescaredusoncetonight,an'wethoughtitwashimagain.Hehadonasheet.Theygaveaquarterforthebestcostume,Idon'tknowwhowonit-""

"""WherewereyouwhenyouthoughtitwasCecil?""""Justalittlepiecefromtheschoolhouse.Iyelledsomethin'athim-""""Youyelled,what?""""CecilJacobsisabigfathen,Ithink.Wedidn'thearnothin'-thenJemyelledhelloorsomethin'loudenoughtowakethedead-"""

"Justaminute,Scout,"saidMr.Tate. "Mr.Finch,didyouhearthem?""

"

Atticussaidhedidn't.Hehadtheradioon.AuntAlexandrahadhers going in her bedroom.He remembered because she toldhim to turn his down a bit so she could hear hers. Atticus

smiled."Ialwaysplayaradiotooloud.""

"Iwonderiftheneighborsheardanything...."saidMr.Tate.

"I doubt it,Heck.Most of them listen to their radios or go tobedwiththechickens.MaudieAtkinsonmayhavebeenup,butIdoubtit.""

"Goahead,Scout,"Mr.Tatesaid."

"

"Well,afterJemyelledwewalkedon.Mr.Tate,IwasshutupinmycostumebutIcouldhearitmyself,then.Footsteps,Imean.Theywalkedwhenwewalked and stoppedwhenwe stopped.Jem said he could see me because Mrs. Crenshaw put somekindofshinypaintonmycostume.Iwasaham.""

""

How'sthat?"askedMr.Tate,startled."

"AtticusdescribedmyroletoMr.Tate,plustheconstructionofmygarment."Youshouldhaveseenherwhenshecamein,"hesaid,"itwascrushedtoapulp.""

Mr.Taterubbedhischin."Iwonderedwhyhehadthosemarkson him, His sleeves were perforated with little holes. Therewereoneortwolittlepuncturemarksonhisarmstomatchtheholes.Letmeseethatthingifyouwill,sir.""

"

Atticus fetched the remainsofmy costume.Mr. Tate turned itoverandbentitaroundtogetanideaofitsformershape."Thisthingprobablysavedherlife,"hesaid."Look."

Hepointedwitha long forefinger.Ashinyclean linestoodouton the dull wire. "Bob Ewell meant business," Mr. Tate

muttered."

"Hewasoutofhismind,"saidAtticus."

"Don't like tocontradictyou,Mr.Finch-wasn'tcrazy,meanashell. Low-down skunkwith enough liquor in him tomakehimbraveenoughtokillchildren.He'dneverhavemetyoufacetoface.""

Atticusshookhishead."Ican'tconceiveofamanwho'd-""

"Mr. Finch, there's just some kind of men you have to shootbeforeyoucansayhidyto'em.Eventhen,theyain'tworththebulletittakestoshoot'em.Ewell'asoneof'em.""

Atticus said, "I thought he got it all out of him the day hethreatened me. Even if he hadn't, I thought he'd come afterme.""

"Hehadgutsenoughtopesterapoorcoloredwoman,hehadgutsenoughtopesterJudgeTaylorwhenhethoughtthehousewas empty, so do you think he'da met you to your face indaylight?" Mr. Tate sighed. "We'd better get on. Scout, youheardhimbehindyou-""

"Yessir.Whenwegotunderthetree-""

"How'd you know you were under the tree, you couldn't seethunderoutthere.""

"I was barefooted, and Jem says the ground's always coolerunderatree.""

"We'llhavetomakehimadeputy,goahead."

"Then all of a sudden somethin' grabbedme an' mashedmycostume... think I ducked on the ground... heard a tusslin'underthetreesortof... theywerebammin'againstthetrunk,sounded like.Jemfoundmeandstartedpullin'metowardthe

road.Some-Mr.Ewellyankedhimdown,Ireckon.Theytussledsome more and then there was this funny noise- Jemhollered..."Istopped.ThatwasJem'sarm."

"Anyway,JemholleredandIdidn'thearhimanymorean'thenext thing- Mr. Ewell was tryin' to squeeze me to death, Ireckon... then somebody yanked Mr. Ewell down. Jem musthavegotup,Iguess.That'sallIknow...""

"Andthen?"Mr.Tatewaslookingatmesharply.

"Somebodywasstaggerin'aroundandpantin'and-coughingfittodie.IthoughtitwasJematfirst,butitdidn'tsoundlikehim,soIwentlookin'forJemontheground.IthoughtAtticushadcometohelpusandhadgotworeout-""

"Whowasit?""

"Whythereheis,Mr.Tate,hecantellyouhisname.""

"

AsIsaidit,Ihalfpointedtothemaninthecorner,butbroughtmyarmdownquicklylestAtticusreprimandmeforpointing.Itwasimpolitetopoint."

He was still leaning against the wall. He had been leaningagainst thewall when I came into the room, his arms foldedacross his chest. As I pointed he brought his arms down andpressed the palms of his hands against the wall. They werewhitehands,sicklywhitehandsthathadneverseenthesun,sowhitetheystoodoutgarishlyagainstthedullcreamwallinthedimlightofJem'sroom."

I looked from his hands to his sand-stained khaki pants; myeyestraveleduphisthinframetohistorndenimshirt.Hisfacewasaswhiteashishands,butforashadowonhisjuttingchin.Hischeekswerethintohollowness;hismouthwaswide;therewereshallow,almostdelicate indentationsathis temples,and

hisgrayeyesweresocolorlessIthoughthewasblind.Hishairwasdeadandthin,almostfeatheryontopofhishead."

WhenIpointedtohimhispalmsslippedslightly,leavinggreasysweatstreaksonthewall,andhehookedhisthumbsinhisbelt.A strange small spasm shook him, as if he heard fingernailsscrapeslate,butasIgazedathiminwonderthetensionslowlydrainedfromhisface.Hislipspartedintoatimidsmile,andourneighbor'simageblurredwithmysuddentears."

"Hey,Boo,"Isaid."

30

"Mr. Arthur, honey," said Atticus, gently correcting me. "JeanLouise, this is Mr. Arthur Radley. I believe he already knowsyou."

If Atticus could blandly introduceme toBooRadley at a timelikethis,well-thatwasAtticus.

Boo saw me run instinctively to the bed where Jem wassleeping,forthesameshysmilecreptacrosshisface.Hotwithembarrassment,ItriedtocoverupbycoveringJemup.

"Ah-ah,don'ttouchhim,"Atticussaid.

Mr. Heck Tate sat looking intently at Boo through his horn-rimmed glasses. He was about to speak when Dr. Reynoldscamedownthehall.

"Everybody out," he said, as he came in the door. "Evenin',Arthur,didn'tnoticeyouthefirsttimeIwashere."

Dr. Reynolds's voicewas as breezy as his step, as though hehad said it every evening of his life, an announcement thatastounded me even more than being in the same room withBooRadley.Ofcourse...evenBooRadleygotsicksometimes,Ithought.ButontheotherhandIwasn'tsure.

Dr.Reynoldswascarryingabigpackagewrappedinnewspaper.He put it down on Jem's desk and took off his coat. "You'requite satisfied he's alive, now? Tell you how I knew. When Itried toexaminehimhekickedme.Had toputhimoutgoodandpropertotouchhim.Soscat,"hesaidtome.

"Er-" said Atticus, glancing at Boo. "Heck, let's go out on the

front porch. There are plenty of chairs out there, and it's stillwarmenough."

I wondered why Atticus was inviting us to the front porchinstead of the livingroom, then I understood. The livingroomlightswereawfullystrong

.

Wefiledout, firstMr.Tate-Atticuswaswaitingatthedoorforhimtogoaheadofhim.ThenhechangedhismindandfollowedMr.Tate.

People have a habit of doing everyday things even under theoddest conditions. I was no exception: "Come along, Mr.Arthur,"Iheardmyselfsaying,"youdon'tknowthehouserealwell.I'lljusttakeyoutotheporch,sir."

Helookeddownatmeandnodded.

Iledhimthroughthehallandpastthelivingroom.

"Won't you have a seat, Mr. Arthur? This rocking-chair's niceandcomfortable."

Mysmallfantasyabouthimwasaliveagain:hewouldbesittingon the porch... right pretty spell we're having, isn't it, Mr.Arthur?

Yes,arightprettyspell.Feelingslightlyunreal,IledhimtothechairfarthestfromAtticusandMr.Tate.Itwasindeepshadow.Boowouldfeelmorecomfortableinthedark

.

Atticuswassittingintheswing,andMr.Tatewasinachairnextto him. The light from the livingroomwindowswas strong onthem.IsatbesideBoo.

"Well,Heck,"Atticuswassaying,"Iguessthethingtodo-goodLord, I'm losingmymemory..." Atticus pushed up his glassesandpressedhisfingerstohiseyes."Jem'snotquitethirteen...no,he'salreadythirteen-Ican'tremember.Anyway, it'llcomebeforecountycourt-"

"Whatwill,Mr. Finch?"Mr.Tateuncrossedhis legsand leanedforward.

"Of course itwas clear-cut self defense,but I'll have togo totheofficeandhuntup-"

"Mr. Finch, do you think Jem killed Bob Ewell? Do you thinkthat?"

"YouheardwhatScoutsaid,there'snodoubtaboutit.ShesaidJem got up and yanked him off her- he probably got hold ofEwell'sknifesomehowinthedark...we'llfindouttomorrow."

"Mis-terFinch,holdon,"saidMr.Tate."JemneverstabbedBobEwell."

Atticuswassilentforamoment.HelookedatMr.Tateasifheappreciatedwhathesaid.ButAtticusshookhishead.

"Heck, it'smightykindofyouandIknowyou'redoingit fromthatgoodheartofyours,butdon'tstartanythinglikethat."

Mr.Tategotupandwenttotheedgeoftheporch.Hespatintothe shrubbery, then thrust his hands into his hip pockets andfacedAtticus."Likewhat?"hesaid.

"I'm sorry if I spoke sharply, Heck," Atticus said simply, "butnobody'shushingthisup.Idon'tlivethatway."

v"Nobody'sgonnahushanythingup,Mr.Finch."

Mr.Tate'svoicewasquiet,buthisbootswereplantedsosolidlyon the porch floorboards it seemed that they grew there. A

curiouscontest,thenatureofwhicheludedme,wasdevelopingbetweenmyfatherandthesheriff.

ItwasAtticus'sturntogetupandgototheedgeoftheporch.Hesaid,"H'rm,"andspatdrylyintotheyard.HeputhishandsinhispocketsandfacedMr.Tate.

"Heck, you haven't said it, but I know what you're thinking.Thankyouforit.JeanLouise-"heturnedtome."YousaidJemyankedMr.Ewelloffyou?"

"Yessir,that'swhatIthought...I-"

"Seethere,Heck?Thankyoufromthebottomofmyheart,butIdon'twantmyboystartingoutwithsomething likethisoverhishead.Bestway to clear theair is tohave it all out in theopen.Letthecountycomeandbringsandwiches.Idon'twanthimgrowingupwithawhisperabouthim,Idon'twantanybodysaying, 'Jem Finch... his daddy paid amint to get him out ofthat.'Soonerwegetthisoverwiththebetter."

"Mr.Finch,"Mr.Tatesaidstolidly,"BobEwellfellonhisknife.Hekilledhimself."

Atticus walked to the corner of the porch. He looked at thewisteriavine.Inhisownway,Ithought,eachwasasstubbornas the other. I wondered who would give in first. Atticus'sstubbornnesswas quiet and rarely evident, but in somewayshewasassetas theCunninghams.Mr.Tate'swasunschooledandblunt,butitwasequaltomyfather's.

"Heck,"Atticus'sbackwasturned."Ifthisthing'shushedupit'llbe a simple denial to Jem of theway I've tried to raise him.Sometimes I think I'm a total failure as a parent, but I'm allthey'vegot.Before Jem looksat anyoneelsehe looksatme,andI've tried to livesoIcan looksquarelybackathim... if Iconnivedatsomethinglikethis,franklyIcouldn'tmeethiseye,andthedayIcan'tdothatI'llknowI'velosthim.Idon'twant

tolosehimandScout,becausethey'reallI'vegot."

"Mr. Finch."Mr. Tatewas still planted to the floorboards. "BobEwellfellonhisknife.Icanproveit."

Atticuswheeledaround.Hishandsdugintohispockets."Heck,can'tyoueventrytoseeitmyway?You'vegotchildrenofyourown,but I'molder thanyou.Whenminearegrown I'll beanoldmanifI'mstillaround,butrightnowI'm-iftheydon'ttrustme they won't trust anybody. Jem and Scout know whathappened. If they hear of me saying downtown somethingdifferenthappened-Heck,Iwon'thavethemanymore.Ican'tliveonewayintownandanotherwayinmyhome."

Mr.Taterockedonhisheelsandsaidpatiently,"He'dflungJemdown,hestumbledoverarootunderthattreeand-look,Icanshowyou."

Mr. Tate reached in his side pocket and withdrew a longswitchbladeknife.Ashedidso,Dr.Reynoldscametothedoor."The son- deceased's under that tree, doctor, just inside theschoolyard.Gotaflashlight?Betterhavethisone."

"I can ease around and turn my car lights on," said Dr.Reynolds,buthetookMr.Tate's flashlight."Jem'sall right.Hewon'twakeup tonight, I hope, so don'tworry. That the knifethatkilledhim,Heck?"

"Nosir,stillinhim.Lookedlikeakitchenknifefromthehandle.Kenoughtabetherewiththehearsebynow,doctor,'night."

Mr. Tate flicked open the knife. "Itwas like this," he said.Heheldtheknifeandpretendedtostumble;asheleanedforwardhis left arm went down in front of him. "See there? Stabbedhimself through that soft stuff between his ribs. His wholeweightdroveitin."

Mr. Tate closed the knife and jammed it back in his pocket.

"Scoutis

eightyearsold,"hesaid."Shewastooscaredtoknowexactlywhatwenton."

"You'dbesurprised,"Atticussaidgrimly.

"I'mnotsayin'shemadeitup,I'msayin'shewastooscaredtoknow exactly what happened. It was mighty dark out there,blackasink.'dtakesomebodymightyusedtothedarktomakeacompetentwitness..."

"Iwon'thaveit,"Atticussaidsoftly.

"Goddamnit,I'mnotthinkingofJem!"

Mr. Tate's boot hit the floorboards so hard the lights in MissMaudie's bedroom went on. Miss Stephanie Crawford's lightswenton.AtticusandMr.Tatelookedacrossthestreet,thenateachother.Theywaited.

WhenMr. Tate spoke again his voice was barely audible. "Mr.Finch, I hate to fight you when you're like this. You've beenunderastraintonightnomanshouldeverhavetogothrough.Whyyouain't in thebed from it Idon't know,but Idoknowthat for once you haven't been able to put two and twotogether, and we've got to settle this tonight becausetomorrow'll be too late. Bob Ewell's got a kitchen knife in hiscraw."

Mr. Tate added that Atticus wasn't going to stand there andmaintain thatanyboy Jem's sizewithabustedarmhad fightenough left inhimto tackleandkillagrownman in thepitchdark.

"Heck,"saidAtticusabruptly,"thatwasaswitchbladeyouwerewaving.Where'dyougetit?"

"Tookitoffadrunkman,"Mr.Tateansweredcoolly.

Iwastryingtoremember.Mr.Ewellwasonme...thenhewentdown....Jemmusthavegottenup.AtleastIthought...

"Heck?"

"I said I took it off a drunk man downtown tonight. Ewellprobably found that kitchen knife in the dump somewhere.Honeditdownandbidedhistime...justbidedhistime."

Atticus made his way to the swing and sat down. His handsdangledlimplybetweenhisknees.Hewaslookingatthefloor.Hehadmovedwiththesameslownessthatnightinfrontofthejail,when I thought it tookhim forever to foldhisnewspaperandtossitinhischair.

Mr.Tateclumpedsoftlyaroundtheporch."Itain'tyourdecision,Mr. Finch, it's allmine. It'smydecisionandmy responsibility.Foronce,ifyoudon'tseeitmyway,there'snotmuchyoucandoaboutit.Ifyouwantatry,I'llcallyoualiartoyourface.YourboyneverstabbedBobEwell,"hesaidslowly,"didn'tcomenearamileof itandnowyouknowit.Allhewantedtodowasgethimandhissistersafelyhome."

Mr.Tatestoppedpacing.HestoppedinfrontofAtticus,andhisbackwastous."I'mnotaverygoodman,sir,butIamsheriffofMaycombCounty.Livedinthistownallmylifean'I'mgoin'onforty-threeyearsold.Knoweverythingthat'shappenedheresincebeforeIwasborn.There'sablackboydeadfornoreason,and theman responsible for it's dead. Let the dead bury thedeadthistime,Mr.Finch.Letthedeadburythedead."

Mr.Tatewenttotheswingandpickeduphishat.Itwas lyingbesideAtticus.Mr.Tatepushedbackhishairandputhishaton.

"Ineverheardtellthatit'sagainstthelawforacitizentodohisutmost to prevent a crime from being committed, which isexactlywhathedid,butmaybeyou'llsayit'smydutytotellthetownallaboutitandnothushitup.Knowwhat'dhappenthen?

AlltheladiesinMaycombincludin'mywife'dbeknockingonhisdoor bringing angel food cakes. To my way of thinkin', Mr.Finch,takingtheonemanwho'sdoneyouandthistownagreatservicean'draggin'himwithhisshywaysintothelimelight-tome,that'sasin.It'sasinandI'mnotabouttohaveitonmyhead. If it was any otherman, it'd be different. But not thisman,Mr.Finch."

Mr.Tatewastryingtodigaholeinthefloorwiththetoeofhisboot.Hepulledhisnose,thenhemassagedhisleftarm."Imaynotbemuch,Mr.Finch,butI'mstillsheriffofMaycombCountyandBobEwellfellonhisknife.Goodnight,sir."

Mr.Tatestampedofftheporchandstrodeacrossthefrontyard.Hiscardoorslammedandhedroveaway.

Atticussatlookingatthefloorforalongtime.Finallyheraisedhishead."Scout,"hesaid,"Mr.Ewellfellonhisknife.Canyoupossiblyunderstand?"

Atticus looked like he needed cheering up. I ran to him andhugged him and kissed him with all my might. "Yes sir, Iunderstand,"Ireassuredhim."Mr.Tatewasright."

Atticus disengaged himself and looked at me. "What do youmean?"

"Well,it'dbesortoflikeshootin'amockingbird,wouldn'tit?"

Atticusputhis face inmyhairandrubbed it.Whenhegotupandwalkedacrosstheporchintotheshadows,hisyouthfulstephad returned.Beforehewent inside thehouse,he stopped infront of Boo Radley. "Thank you for my children, Arthur," hesaid.

31

WhenBooRadleyshuffledtohisfeet,lightfromthelivingroomwindowsglistened on his forehead. Everymovehemadewasuncertain,asifhewerenotsurehishandsandfeetcouldmakeproper contact with the things he touched. He coughed hisdreadful raling cough, andwas so shaken he had to sit downagain.Hishandsearchedforhishippocket,andhepulledoutahandkerchief.Hecoughedintoit,thenhewipedhisforehead.

Havingbeensoaccustomedtohisabsence,Ifounditincrediblethat he had been sitting besideme all this time, present. Hehadnotmadeasound.

Oncemore, he got to his feet. He turned tome and noddedtowardthefrontdoor.

"You'dliketosaygoodnighttoJem,wouldn'tyou,Mr.Arthur?Comerightin."

I led him down the hall. Aunt Alexandrawas sitting by Jem'sbed."Comein,Arthur,"shesaid."He'sstillasleep.Dr.Reynoldsgavehima heavy sedative. Jean Louise, is your father in thelivingroom?"

"Yesma'am,Ithinkso."

"I'll just go speak tohimaminute.Dr.Reynolds left some..."hervoicetrailedaway.

Boohaddrifted toacornerof the room,wherehestoodwithhischinup,peeringfromadistanceatJem.Itookhimbythehand,ahandsurprisinglywarmforitswhiteness.Ituggedhimalittle,andheallowedmetoleadhimtoJem'sbed.

Dr.Reynoldshadmadeatent-likearrangementoverJem'sarm,to keep the cover off, I guess, and Boo leaned forward andlookedoverit.Anexpressionoftimidcuriositywasonhisface,as though he had never seen a boy before. His mouth wasslightly open, and he looked at Jem from head to foot. Boo'shandcameup,butheletitdroptohisside.

"Youcanpethim,Mr.Arthur,he'sasleep.Youcouldn'tifhewasawake, though, he wouldn't let you..." I found myselfexplaining."Goahead."

Boo'shandhoveredoverJem'shead.

"Goon,sir,he'sasleep."

HishandcamedownlightlyonJem'shair.

Iwasbeginning to learnhisbodyEnglish.Hishand tightenedonmineandheindicatedthathewantedtoleave.

Iledhimtothefrontporch,wherehisuneasystepshalted.Hewasstillholdingmyhandandhegavenosignoflettingmego.

"Willyoutakemehome?"

Healmostwhisperedit,inthevoiceofachildafraidofthedark.

I putmy foot on the top step and stopped. Iwould leadhimthroughourhouse,butIwouldneverleadhimhome.

"Mr. Arthur, bend your arm down here, like that. That's right,sir."

Islippedmyhandintothecrookofhisarm.

He had to stoop a little to accommodate me, but if MissStephanie Crawford was watching from her upstairs window,shewouldseeArthurRadleyescortingmedown thesidewalk,asanygentlemanwoulddo.

Wecametothestreetlightonthecorner,andIwonderedhowmanytimesDillhadstoodtherehuggingthefatpole,watching,waiting, hoping. I wondered howmany times Jem and I hadmadethis journey,butIenteredtheRadley frontgate for thesecond time inmy life.Booand Iwalkedup the steps to theporch.Hisfingersfoundthefrontdoorknob.Hegentlyreleasedmy hand, opened the door, went inside, and shut the doorbehindhim.Ineversawhimagain.

Neighborsbringfoodwithdeathandflowerswithsicknessandlittlethingsinbetween.Boowasourneighbor.Hegaveustwosoap dolls, a broken watch and chain, a pair of good-luckpennies,andour lives.Butneighborsgive inreturn.Weneverputbackintothetreewhatwetookoutofit:wehadgivenhimnothing,anditmademesad.

I turned to gohome.Street lightswinkeddown the street allthewaytotown.Ihadneverseenourneighborhoodfromthisangle. TherewereMissMaudie's,Miss Stephanie's- therewasour house, I could see the porch swing- Miss Rachel's housewasbeyondus,plainlyvisible.IcouldevenseeMrs.Dubose's.

I lookedbehindme.To the leftof thebrowndoorwasa longshutteredwindow.Iwalkedtoit,stoodinfrontofit,andturnedaround. Indaylight, I thought,youcouldsee to thepostofficecorner.

Daylight...inmymind,thenightfaded.Itwasdaytimeandtheneighborhood was busy. Miss Stephanie Crawford crossed thestreet to tell the latest toMissRachel.MissMaudiebent overher azaleas. Itwas summertime, and two children scampereddown thesidewalk towardamanapproaching in thedistance.Themanwaved,andthechildrenracedeachothertohim.

It was still summertime, and the children came closer. A boytrudgeddownthesidewalkdraggingafishingpolebehindhim.Amanstoodwaitingwithhishandsonhiships.Summertime,andhischildrenplayedinthefrontyardwiththeirfriend,enactinga

strangelittledramaoftheirowninvention.

Itwas fall, andhis children foughton thesidewalk in frontofMrs.Dubose's.Theboyhelpedhissister toher feet,andtheymadetheirwayhome.Fall,andhischildrentrottedtoandfroaroundthecorner,theday'swoesandtriumphsontheirfaces.Theystoppedatanoaktree,delighted,puzzled,apprehensive.

Winter,andhischildrenshiveredat the frontgate,silhouettedagainst a blazing house. Winter, and a man walked into thestreet,droppedhisglasses,andshotadog.

Summer, and he watched his children's heart break. Autumnagain,andBoo'schildrenneededhim.

Atticus was right. One time he said you never really know amanuntilyoustandinhisshoesandwalkaroundinthem.JuststandingontheRadleyporchwasenough.

Thestreetlightswerefuzzyfromthefinerainthatwasfalling.AsImademywayhome,Ifeltveryold,butwhenIlookedatthe tip of my nose I could see finemisty beads, but lookingcross-eyedmademedizzysoIquit.AsImademywayhome,IthoughtwhatathingtotellJemtomorrow.He'dbesomadhemissedithewouldn'tspeaktomefordays.AsImademywayhome, I thought Jemand Iwouldgetgrownbut therewasn'tmuchelseleftforustolearn,exceptpossiblyalgebra.

Iranupthestepsandintothehouse.AuntAlexandrahadgonetobed,andAtticus'sroomwasdark.IwouldseeifJemmightbe reviving.Atticuswas in Jem's room, sittingbyhisbed.Hewasreadingabook.

"IsJemawakeyet?"

"Sleepingpeacefully.Hewon'tbeawakeuntilmorning."

"Oh.Areyousittin'upwithhim?"

"Just for an hour or so. Go to bed, Scout. You've had a longday."

"Well,IthinkI'llstaywithyouforawhile."

"Suityourself,"saidAtticus.Itmusthavebeenaftermidnight,and I was puzzled by his amiable acquiescence. He wasshrewderthanI,however:themomentIsatdownIbegantofeelsleepy.

"Whatchareadin'?"Iasked.

Atticus turned thebookover. "Somethingof Jem's.CalledTheGrayGhost."

Iwassuddenlyawake."Why'dyougetthatone?"

"Honey,Idon'tknow.Justpickeditup.OneofthefewthingsIhaven'tread,"hesaidpointedly.

"Readitoutloud,please,Atticus.It'srealscary."

"No," he said. "You'vehadenough scaring for awhile. This istoo-"

"Atticus,Iwasn'tscared."

He raisedhis eyebrows, and I protested: "Leastwaysnot till IstartedtellingMr.Tateabout it.Jemwasn'tscared.Askedhimand he said he wasn't. Besides, nothin's real scary except inbooks."

Atticusopenedhismouth tosaysomething,butshut itagain.Hetookhisthumbfromthemiddleofthebookandturnedbacktothefirstpage.Imovedoverandleanedmyheadagainsthisknee."H'rm,"hesaid."TheGrayGhost,bySeckataryHawkins.ChapterOne..."

Iwilledmyselftostayawake,buttherainwassosoftandthe

roomwassowarmandhisvoicewassodeepandhiskneewassosnugthatIslept.

Secondslater,itseemed,hisshoewasgentlynudgingmyribs.He liftedme tomy feet and walkedme tomy room. "Heardevery word you said," I muttered. "...wasn't sleep at all, 'saboutashipan'Three-FingeredFred'n'Stoner'sBoy...."

He unhookedmy overalls, leanedme against him, and pulledthem off. He heldme up with one hand and reached for mypajamaswiththeother.

"Yeah,an'theyallthoughtitwasStoner'sBoymessin'uptheirclubhousean'throwin'inkalloveritan'..."

Heguidedmeto thebedandsatmedown.He liftedmy legsandputmeunderthecover.

"An' they chased him 'n' never could catch him 'cause theydidn'tknowwhathe looked like,an'Atticus,whenthey finallysawhim,whyhehadn'tdoneanyofthosethings...Atticus,hewasrealnice...."

Hishandswereundermychin,pullingupthecover,tucking itaroundme.

"Mostpeopleare,Scout,whenyoufinallyseethem."

HeturnedoutthelightandwentintoJem'sroom.Hewouldbethereallnight,andhewouldbe therewhenJemwakedup inthemorning.

THEEND