Post on 26-Sep-2020
Contents
AbouttheBookAbouttheAuthorAlsobyHarperLeeTitlePageDedication
PartIChapter1Chapter2Chapter3
PartII
Chapter4Chapter5
PartIIIChapter6Chapter7Chapter8Chapter9Chapter10
PartIVChapter11Chapter12
PartVChapter13Chapter14
PartVIChapter15Chapter16Chapter17
PartVIIChapter18Chapter19
Copyright
ABOUTTHEBOOK
From Harper Lee comes alandmarknewnovelsettwodecades after her belovedPulitzer Prize-winningmasterpiece, To Kill aMockingbird.
Maycomb,Alabama.Twenty-six-year-old Jean LouiseFinch – ‘Scout’ – returns
homefromNewYorkCitytovisit her ageing father,Atticus. Set against thebackdrop of the civil rightstensions and political turmoilthat were transforming theSouth, Jean Louise’shomecoming turnsbittersweet when she learnsdisturbing truths about herclose-knit family, the townandthepeopledearesttoher.Memoriesfromherchildhoodflood back, and her values
and assumptions are thrownintodoubt.FeaturingmanyoftheiconiccharactersfromToKillaMockingbird,GoSetaWatchman perfectly capturesayoungwoman,andaworld,in painful yet necessarytransition out of the illusionsof the past – a journey thatcan be guided only by one’sownconscience.
Writteninthemid-1950s,GoSet a Watchman imparts a
fuller, richer understandingand appreciation of HarperLee.Here is anunforgettablenovel of wisdom, humanity,passion, humour andeffortless precision – aprofoundly affectingwork ofart that is both wonderfullyevocative of another era andrelevant to our own times. Itnot only confirms theenduringbrillianceofToKilla Mockingbird, but alsoserves as its essential
companion, adding depth,contextandnewmeaningtoaclassic.
ABOUTTHEAUTHOR
Harper Lee was born in1926 in Monroeville,Alabama.Sheistheauthorofthe acclaimed To Kill aMockingbird, and has beenawarded the Pulitzer Prize,the Presidential Medal ofFreedomandnumerousotherliteraryawardsandhonours.
ALSOBYHARPERLEE
ToKillaMockingbird
InmemoryofMr.LeeandAlice
PARTI
1
SINCEATLANTA,SHEhadlookedoutthedining-carwindowwithadelightalmostphysical.Overherbreakfastcoffee,shewatchedthelastofGeorgia’shillsrecedeandtheredearthappear,andwithittin-roofedhousessetinthemiddleofsweptyards,andin
theyardstheinevitableverbenagrew,surroundedbywhitewashedtires.ShegrinnedwhenshesawherfirstTVantennaatopanunpaintedNegrohouse;astheymultiplied,herjoyrose.JeanLouiseFinchalways
madethisjourneybyair,butshedecidedtogobytrainfromNewYorktoMaycombJunctiononherfifthannualtriphome.Foronething,shehadthelifescaredoutofher
thelasttimeshewasonaplane:thepilotelectedtoflythroughatornado.Foranotherthing,flyinghomemeantherfatherrisingatthreeinthemorning,drivingahundredmilestomeetherinMobile,anddoingafullday’sworkafterwards:hewasseventy-twonowandthiswasnolongerfair.Shewasgladshehad
decidedtogobytrain.Trainshadchangedsinceher
childhood,andthenoveltyoftheexperienceamusedher:afatgenieofaportermaterializedwhenshepressedabuttononawall;atherbiddingastainlesssteelwashbasinpoppedoutofanotherwall,andtherewasajohnonecouldpropone’sfeeton.Sheresolvednottobeintimidatedbyseveralmessagesstenciledaroundhercompartment—aroomette,theycalledit—but
whenshewenttobedthenightbefore,shesucceededinfoldingherselfupintothewallbecauseshehadignoredaninjunctiontopullthisleverdownoverbrackets,asituationremediedbytheportertoherembarrassment,asherhabitwastosleeponlyinpajamatops.Luckily,hehappenedtobe
patrollingthecorridorwhenthetrapsnappedshutwithherinit:“I’llgetyouout,Miss,”
hecalledinanswertoherpoundingsfromwithin.“Noplease,”shesaid.“Justtellmehowtogetout.”“Icandoitwithmybackturned,”hesaid,anddid.Whensheawokethat
morningthetrainwasswitchingandchuggingintheAtlantayards,butinobediencetoanothersigninhercompartmentshestayedinbeduntilCollegeParkflashedby.Whenshe
dressed,sheputonherMaycombclothes:grayslacks,ablacksleevelessblouse,whitesocks,andloafers.Althoughitwasfourhoursaway,shecouldhearheraunt’ssniffofdisapproval.Whenshewasstartingon
herfourthcupofcoffeetheCrescentLimitedhonkedlikeagiantgooseatitsnorthboundmateandrumbled
acrosstheChattahoocheeintoAlabama.TheChattahoocheeis
wide,flat,andmuddy.Itwaslowtoday;ayellowsandbarhadreduceditsflowtoatrickle.Perhapsitsingsinthewintertime,shethought:Idonotrememberalineofthatpoem.Pipingdownthevalleyswild?No.Didhewritetoawaterfowl,orwasitawaterfall?
ShesternlyrepressedatendencytoboisterousnesswhenshereflectedthatSidneyLaniermusthavebeensomewhatlikeherlong-departedcousin,JoshuaSingletonSt.Clair,whoseprivateliterarypreservesstretchedfromtheBlackBelttoBayouLaBatre.JeanLouise’sauntoftenheldupCousinJoshuatoherasafamilyexamplenotlightlytobediscountenanced:hewasa
splendidfigureofaman,hewasapoet,hewascutoffinhisprime,andJeanLouisewoulddowelltorememberthathewasacredittothefamily.Hispicturesdidthefamilywell—CousinJoshualookedlikearattyAlgernonSwinburne.JeanLouisesmiledto
herselfwhensherememberedherfathertellinghertherestofit.CousinJoshuawascut
off,allright,notbythehandofGodbutbyCaesar’shosts:WhenattheUniversity,
CousinJoshuastudiedtoohardandthoughttoomuch;infact,hereadhimselfstraightoutofthenineteenthcentury.HeaffectedanInvernesscapeandworejackbootshehadablacksmithmakeupfromhisowndesign.CousinJoshuawasfrustratedbytheauthoritieswhenhefireduponthepresidentofthe
University,whoinhisopinionwaslittlemorethanasewagedisposalexpert.Thiswasnodoubttrue,butanidleexcuseforassaultwithadeadlyweapon.AftermuchpassingaroundofmoneyCousinJoshuawasmovedacrossthetracksandplacedinstateaccommodationsfortheirresponsible,whereheremainedfortherestofhisdays.Theysaidhewasreasonableineveryrespect
untilsomeonementionedthatpresident’sname,thenhisfacewouldbecomedistorted,hewouldassumeawhoopingcraneattitudeandholditforeighthoursormore,andnothingornobodycouldmakehimlowerhisleguntilheforgotaboutthatman.OncleardaysCousinJoshuareadGreek,andheleftathinvolumeofverseprintedprivatelybyafirminTuscaloosa.Thepoetrywas
soaheadofitstimenoonehasdecipheredityet,butJeanLouise’sauntkeepsitdisplayedcasuallyandprominentlyonatableinthelivingroom.JeanLouiselaughedaloud,
thenlookedaroundtoseeifanyonehadheardher.Herfatherhadawayofundermininghissister’slecturesontheinnatesuperiorityofanygivenFinch:healwaystoldhis
daughtertherestofit,quietlyandsolemnly,butJeanLouisesometimesthoughtshedetectedanunmistakablyprofaneglintinAtticusFinch’seyes,orwasitmerelythelighthittinghisglasses?Sheneverknew.Thecountrysideandthe
trainhadsubsidedtoagentleroll,andshecouldseenothingbutpasturelandandblackcowsfromwindowtohorizon.Shewonderedwhy
shehadneverthoughthercountrybeautiful.ThestationatMontgomery
nestledinanelbowoftheAlabama,andwhenshegotoffthetraintostretchherlegs,thereturningfamiliarwithitsdrabness,lights,andcuriousodorsrosetomeether.Thereissomethingmissing,shethought.Hotboxes,that’sit.Amangoesalongunderthetrainwithacrowbar.Thereisa
clankandthens-sss-sss,whitesmokecomesupandyouthinkyou’reinsideachafingdish.Thesethingsrunonoilnow.Fornoreasonanancient
feargnawedher.Shehadnotbeeninthisstationfortwentyyears,butwhenshewasachildandwenttothecapitalwithAtticus,shewasterrifiedlesttheswayingtrainplungedowntheriverbankanddrownthemall.Butwhenshe
boardedagainforhome,sheforgot.Thetrainclacketedthrough
pineforestsandhonkedderisivelyatagailypaintedbell-funneledmuseumpiecesidetrackedinaclearing.Itborethesignofalumberconcern,andtheCrescentLimitedcouldhaveswalloweditwholewithroomtospare.Greenville,Evergreen,MaycombJunction.
Shehadtoldtheconductornottoforgettoletheroff,andbecausetheconductorwasanelderlyman,sheanticipatedhisjoke:hewouldrushatMaycombJunctionlikeabatoutofhellandstopthetrainaquarterofamilepastthelittlestation,thenwhenhebadehergoodbyehewouldsayhewassorry,healmostforgot.Trainschanged;conductorsneverdid.Beingfunnyatflagstops
withyoungladieswasamarkoftheprofession,andAtticus,whocouldpredicttheactionsofeveryconductorfromNewOrleanstoCincinnati,wouldbewaitingaccordinglynotsixstepsawayfromherpointofdebarkation.HomewasMaycomb
County,agerrymandersomeseventymileslongandspreadingthirtymilesatitswidestpoint,awildernessdottedwithtinysettlements
thelargestofwhichwasMaycomb,thecountyseat.Untilcomparativelyrecentlyinitshistory,MaycombCountywassocutofffromtherestofthenationthatsomeofitscitizens,unawareoftheSouth’spoliticalpredilectionsoverthepastninetyyears,stillvotedRepublican.Notrainswentthere—MaycombJunction,acourtesytitle,waslocatedinAbbottCounty,twentymiles
away.Busservicewaserraticandseemedtogonowhere,buttheFederalGovernmenthadforcedahighwayortwothroughtheswamps,thusgivingthecitizensanopportunityforfreeegress.Butfewpeopletookadvantageoftheroads,andwhyshouldthey?Ifyoudidnotwantmuch,therewasplenty.Thecountyandthetown
werenamedforaColonel
MasonMaycomb,amanwhosemisplacedself-confidenceandoverweeningwillfulnessbroughtconfusionandconfoundmenttoallwhorodewithhimintheCreekIndianWars.Theterritoryinwhichheoperatedwasvaguelyhillyinthenorthandflatinthesouth,onthefringesofthecoastalplain.ColonelMaycomb,convincedthatIndianshatedtofightonflatland,scouredthenorthern
reachesoftheterritorylookingforthem.WhenhisgeneraldiscoveredthatMaycombwasmeanderinginthehillswhiletheCreekswerelurkingineverypinethicketinthesouth,hedispatchedafriendlyIndianrunnertoMaycombwiththemessage,Movesouth,damnyou.MaycombwasconvincedthiswasaCreekplottotraphim(wastherenotablue-eyed,red-headed
devilleadingthem?),hemadethefriendlyIndianrunnerhisprisoner,andhemovedfarthernorthuntilhisforcesbecamehopelesslylostintheforestprimeval,wheretheysatoutthewarsinconsiderablebewilderment.Afterenoughyearshad
passedtoconvinceColonelMaycombthatthemessagemighthavebeengenuineafterall,hebeganapurposefulmarchtothe
south,andonthewayhistroopsencounteredsettlersmovinginland,whotoldthemtheIndianWarswereaboutover.ThetroopsandthesettlerswerefriendlyenoughtobecomeJeanLouiseFinch’sancestors,andColonelMaycombpressedontowhatisnowMobiletomakesurehisexploitsweregivenduecredit.Recordedhistory’sversiondoesnotcoincidewiththetruth,but
thesearethefacts,becausetheywerepasseddownbywordofmouththroughtheyears,andeveryMaycombianknowsthem.“…getyourbags,Miss,”
theportersaid.JeanLouisefollowedhimfromtheloungecartohercompartment.Shetooktwodollarsfromherbillfold:oneforroutine,oneforreleasingherlastnight.Thetrain,ofcourse,rushedlikeabatoutofhellpastthe
stationandcametoastop440yardsbeyondit.Theconductorappeared,grinning,andsaidhewassorry,healmostforgot.JeanLouisegrinnedbackandwaitedimpatientlyfortheportertoputtheyellowstepinplace.Hehandedherdownandshegavehimthetwobills.Herfatherwasnotwaiting
forher.Shelookedupthetrack
towardthestationandsawa
tallmanstandingonthetinyplatform.Hejumpeddownandrantomeether.Hegrabbedherinabear
hug,putherfromhim,kissedherhardonthemouth,thenkissedhergently.“Nothere,Hank,”shemurmured,muchpleased.“Hush,girl,”hesaid,
holdingherfaceinplace.“I’llkissyouonthecourthousestepsifIwantto.”
ThepossessoroftherighttokissheronthecourthousestepswasHenryClinton,herlifelongfriend,herbrother’scomrade,andifhekeptonkissingherlikethat,herhusband.Lovewhomyouwillbutmarryyourownkindwasadictumamountingtoinstinctwithinher.HenryClintonwasJeanLouise’sownkind,andnowshedidnotconsiderthedictumparticularlyharsh.
Theywalkedarm-in-armdownthetracktocollecthersuitcase.“How’sAtticus?”shesaid.“Hishandsandshoulders
aregivinghimfitstoday.”“Hecan’tdrivewhen
they’relikethat,canhe?”Henryclosedthefingersof
hisrighthandhalfwayandsaid,“Hecan’tclosethemanymorethanthis.MissAlexandrahastotiehisshoesandbuttonhisshirtswhen
they’relikethat.Hecan’tevenholdarazor.”JeanLouiseshookher
head.Shewastoooldtorailagainsttheinequityofit,buttooyoungtoacceptherfather’scripplingdiseasewithoutputtingupsomekindoffight.“Isn’tthereanythingtheycando?”“Youknowthereisn’t,”
Henrysaid.“Hetakesseventygrainsofaspirinadayandthat’sall.”
Henrypickedupherheavysuitcase,andtheywalkedbacktowardthecar.Shewonderedhowshewouldbehavewhenhertimecametohurtdayinanddayout.HardlylikeAtticus:ifyouaskedhimhowhewasfeelinghewouldtellyou,buthenevercomplained;hisdispositionremainedthesame,soinordertofindouthowhewasfeeling,youhadtoaskhim.
TheonlywayHenryfoundoutaboutitwasbyaccident.Onedaywhentheywereintherecordsvaultatthecourthouserunningalandtitle,Atticushauledoutaheavymortgagebook,turnedstarkwhite,anddroppedit.“What’sthematter?”Henryhadsaid.“Rheumatoidarthritis.Canyoupickitupforme?”saidAtticus.Henryaskedhimhowlonghe’dhadit;Atticussaidsixmonths.
DidJeanLouiseknowit?No.Thenhe’dbettertellher.“Ifyoutellhershe’llbedownheretryingtonurseme.Theonlyremedyforthisisnottoletitbeatyou.”Thesubjectwasclosed.“Wanttodrive?”said
Henry.“Don’tbesilly,”shesaid.
Althoughshewasarespectabledriver,shehatedtooperateanythingmechanicalmorecomplicated
thanasafetypin:foldinglawnchairswereasourceofprofoundirritationtoher;shehadneverlearnedtorideabicycleoruseatypewriter;shefishedwithapole.Herfavoritegamewasgolfbecauseitsessentialprinciplesconsistedofastick,asmallball,andastateofmind.Withgreenenvy,she
watchedHenry’seffortlessmasteryoftheautomobile.
Carsarehisservants,shethought.“Powersteering?Automatictransmission?”shesaid.“Youbet,”hesaid.“Well,whatifeverything
shutsoffandyoudon’thaveanygearstoshift.You’dbeintroublethen,wouldn’tyou?”“Buteverythingwon’tshut
off.”“Howdoyouknow?”
“That’swhatfaithis.Comehere.”FaithinGeneralMotors.
Sheputherheadonhisshoulder.“Hank,”shesaidpresently.
“Whatreallyhappened?”Thiswasanoldjoke
betweenthem.Apinkscarstartedunderhisrighteye,hitthecornerofhisnose,andrandiagonallyacrosshisupperlip.BehindhislipweresixfalsefrontteethnotevenJean
Louisecouldinducehimtotakeoutandshowher.Hecamehomefromthewarwiththem.AGerman,moretoexpresshisdispleasureattheendofthewarthananythingelse,hadbashedhiminthefacewithariflebutt.JeanLouisehadchosentothinkthisalikelystory:whatwithgunsthatshotoverthehorizon,B-17s,V-bombs,andthelike,Henryhadprobablynotbeenwithin
spittingdistanceoftheGermans.“Okay,honey,”hesaid.
“WeweredowninacellarinBerlin.Everybodyhadtoomuchtodrinkandafightstarted—youliketohearthebelievable,don’tyou?Nowwillyoumarryme?”“Notyet.”“Why?”“IwanttobelikeDr.
SchweitzerandplayuntilI’mthirty.”
“Heplayedallright,”saidHenrygrimly.JeanLouisemovedunder
hisarm.“YouknowwhatImean,”shesaid.“Yes.”Therewasnofineryoung
man,saidthepeopleofMaycomb,thanHenryClinton.JeanLouiseagreed.Henrywasfromthesouthernendofthecounty.HisfatherhadlefthismothersoonafterHenrywasborn,andshe
workednightanddayinherlittlecrossroadsstoretosendHenrythroughtheMaycombpublicschools.Henry,fromthetimehewastwelve,boardedacrossthestreetfromtheFinchhouse,andthisinitselfputhimonahigherplane:hewashisownmaster,freefromtheauthorityofcooks,yardmen,andparents.Hewasalsofouryearshersenior,whichmadeadifferencethen.Heteased
her;sheadoredhim.Whenhewasfourteenhismotherdied,leavinghimnexttonothing.AtticusFinchlookedafterwhatlittlemoneytherewasfromthesaleofthestore—herfuneralexpensestookmostofit—hesecretlysupplementeditwithmoneyofhisown,andgotHenryajobclerkingintheJitneyJungleafterschool.HenrygraduatedandwentintotheArmy,andafterthewarhe
wenttotheUniversityandstudiedlaw.Justaboutthattime,Jean
Louise’sbrotherdroppeddeadinhistracksoneday,andafterthenightmareofthatwasover,Atticus,whohadalwaysthoughtofleavinghispracticetohisson,lookedaroundforanotheryoungman.ItwasnaturalforhimtoengageHenry,andinduecourseHenrybecameAtticus’slegman,hiseyes,
andhishands.HenryhadalwaysrespectedAtticusFinch;soonitmeldedtoaffectionandHenryregardedhimasafather.HedidnotregardJean
Louiseasasister.IntheyearswhenhewasawayatthewarandtheUniversity,shehadturnedfromanoveralled,fractious,gun-slingingcreatureintoareasonablefacsimileofahumanbeing.Hebegandatingheronher
annualtwo-weekvisitshome,andalthoughshestillmovedlikeathirteen-year-oldboyandabjuredmostfeminineadornment,hefoundsomethingsointenselyfeminineaboutherthathefellinlove.Shewaseasytolookatandeasytobewithmostofthetime,butshewasinnosenseofthewordaneasyperson.Shewasafflictedwitharestlessnessofspirithecouldnotguessat,buthe
knewshewastheoneforhim.Hewouldprotecther;hewouldmarryher.“TiredofNewYork?”he
said.“No.”“Givemeafreehandfor
thesetwoweeksandI’llmakeyoutiredofit.”“Isthatanimproper
suggestion?”“Yes.”“Gotohell,then.”
Henrystoppedthecar.Heturnedofftheignitionswitch,slewedaround,andlookedather.Sheknewwhenhebecameseriousaboutsomething:hiscrewcutbristledlikeanangrybrush,hisfacecolored,itsscarreddened.“Honey,doyouwantmeto
putitlikeagentleman?MissJeanLouise,Ihavenowreachedaneconomicstatusthatcanprovideforthe
supportoftwo.I,likeIsraelofOld,havelaboredsevenyearsinthevineyardsoftheUniversityandthepasturesofyourdaddy’sofficeforyou—”“I’lltellAtticustomakeit
sevenmore.”“Hateful.”“Besides,”shesaid,“itwas
Jacobanyway.No,theywerethesame.Theyalwayschangedtheirnameseverythirdverse.How’sAunty?”
“Youknowgoodandwellshe’sbeenfineforthirtyyears.Don’tchangethesubject.”JeanLouise’seyebrows
flickered.“Henry,”shesaidprimly,“I’llhaveanaffairwithyoubutIwon’tmarryyou.”Itwasexactlyright.“Don’tbesuchadamn
child,JeanLouise!”Henrysputtered,andforgettingthelatestdispensationsfrom
GeneralMotors,grabbedforagearshiftandstompedataclutch.Thesedeniedhim,hewrenchedtheignitionkeyviolently,pressedsomebuttons,andthebigcarglidedslowlyandsmoothlydownthehighway.“Slowpickup,isn’tit?”she
said.“Nogoodforcitydriving.”Henryglaredather.“What
doyoumeanbythat?”
Inanotherminutethiswouldbecomeaquarrel.Hewasserious.She’dbettermakehimfurious,thussilent,soshecouldthinkaboutit.“Where’dyougetthat
appallingtie?”shesaid.Now.Shewasalmostinlove
withhim.No,that’simpossible,shethought:eitheryouareoryouaren’t.Love’stheonlythinginthisworldthatisunequivocal.
Therearedifferentkindsoflove,certainly,butit’sayou-dooryou-don’tpropositionwiththemall.Shewasapersonwho,
whenconfrontedwithaneasywayout,alwaystookthehardway.TheeasywayoutofthiswouldbetomarryHankandlethimlaborforher.Afterafewyears,whenthechildrenwerewaist-high,themanwouldcomealongwhomsheshouldhavemarriedinthe
firstplace.Therewouldbesearchingsofhearts,feversandfrets,longlooksateachotheronthepostofficesteps,andmiseryforeverybody.Theholleringandthehigh-mindednessover,allthatwouldbeleftwouldbeanothershabbylittleaffairàlatheBirminghamcountryclubset,andaself-constructedprivateGehennawiththelatestWestinghouse
appliances.Hankdidn’tdeservethat.No.Forthepresentshe
wouldpursuethestonypathofspinsterhood.Shesetaboutrestoringpeacewithhonor:“Honey,I’msorry,truly
sorry,”shesaid,andshewas.“That’sokay,”saidHenry,
andslappedherknee.“It’sjustthatIcouldkillyousometimes.”“IknowI’mhateful.”
Henrylookedather.“You’reanoddone,sweet.Youcan’tdissemble.”Shelookedathim.“What
areyoutalkingabout?”“Well,asageneralrule,
mostwomen,beforethey’vegot’em,presenttotheirmensmiling,agreeingfaces.Theyhidetheirthoughts.Younow,whenyou’refeelinghateful,honey,youarehateful.”“Isn’titfairerforamanto
beabletoseewhathe’s
lettinghimselfinfor?”“Yes,butdon’tyousee
you’llnevercatchamanthatway?”Shebithertongueonthe
obvious,andsaid,“HowdoIgoaboutbeinganenchantress?”Henrywarmedtohis
subject.Atthirty,hewasanadviser.Maybebecausehewasalawyer.“First,”hesaiddispassionately,“holdyourtongue.Don’targuewitha
man,especiallywhenyouknowyoucanbeathim.Smilealot.Makehimfeelbig.Tellhimhowwonderfulheis,andwaitonhim.”Shesmiledbrilliantlyand
said,“Hank,Iagreewitheverythingyou’vesaid.YouarethemostperspicaciousindividualI’vemetinyears,youaresixfeetfive,andmayIlightyourcigarette?How’sthat?”“Awful.”
Theywerefriendsagain.
2
ATTICUSFINCHSHOThisleftcuff,thencautiouslypusheditback.One-forty.Onsomedaysheworetwowatches:heworetwothisday,anancientwatchandchainhischildrenhadcuttheirteethon,andawristwatch.Theformerwashabit,thelatterwasusedto
telltimewhenhecouldnotmovehisfingersenoughtodiginhiswatchpocket.Hehadbeenabigmanbeforeageandarthritisreducedhimtomediumsize.Hewasseventy-twolastmonth,butJeanLouisealwaysthoughtofhimashoveringsomewhereinhismiddlefifties—shecouldnotrememberhimbeinganyyounger,andheseemedtogrownoolder.
Infrontofthechairinwhichhewassittingwasasteelmusicstand,andonthestandwasTheStrangeCaseofAlgerHiss.Atticusleanedforwardalittle,thebettertodisapproveofwhathewasreading.AstrangerwouldnothaveseenannoyanceonAtticus’sface,forheseldomexpressedit;afriend,however,wouldexpectadry“H-rm”tocomesoon:Atticus’seyebrowswere
elevated,hismouthwasapleasantthinline.“H-rm,”hesaid.“What,dear?”saidhis
sister.“Idon’tunderstandhowa
manlikethiscanhavethebrasstogiveushisviewsontheHisscase.It’slikeFenimoreCooperwritin’theWaverleyNovels.”“Why,dear?”“Hehasachildlikefaithin
theintegrityofcivilservants
andheseemstothinkCongresscorrespondstotheiraristocracy.NounderstandingofAmericanpoliticsa-tall.”Hissisterpeeredatthe
book’sdustjacket.“I’mnotfamiliarwiththeauthor,”shesaid,thuscondemningthebookforever.“Well,don’tworry,dear.Shouldn’ttheybeherenow?”“I’mnotworrying,
Zandra.”Atticusglancedathissister,amused.Shewasan
impossiblewoman,butasightbetterthanhavingJeanLouisepermanentlyhomeandmiserable.Whenhisdaughterwasmiserablesheprowled,andAtticuslikedhiswomentoberelaxed,notconstantlyemptyingashtrays.Heheardacarturnintothe
driveway,heheardtwoofitsdoorsslam,thenthefrontdoorslam.Hecarefullynudgedthemusicstandawayfromhimwithhisfeet,made
onefutileattempttorisefromthedeeparmchairwithoutusinghishands,succeededthesecondtime,andhadjustbalancedhimselfwhenJeanLouisewasuponhim.Hesufferedherembraceandreturneditasbesthecould.“Atticus—”shesaid.“Puthersuitcaseinthe
bedroom,please,Hank,”saidAtticusoverhershoulder.“Thanksformeetingher.”
JeanLouisepeckedatherauntandmissed,tookapackageofcigarettesfromherbag,andhurleditatthesofa.“How’stherheumatism,Aunty?”“Somebetter,sweet.”“Atticus?”“Somebetter,sweet.Did
youhaveagoodtripdown?”“Yessir.”Shecollapsedon
thesofa.Hankreturnedfromhischores,said,“Move
over,”andsatdownbesideher.JeanLouiseyawnedand
stretched.“What’sthenews?”sheasked.“AllIgetthesedaysisreadingbetweenthelinesintheMaycombTribune.Youallneverwritemeanything.”Alexandrasaid,“Yousaw
ofthedeathofCousinEdgar’sboy.Thatwasamightysadthing.”
JeanLouisesawHenryandherfatherexchangeglances.Atticussaid,“HecameinlateoneafternoonhotfromfootballpracticeandraidedtheKappaAlphaicebox.Healsoateadozenbananasandwashed’emdownwithapintofwhiskey.Anhourlaterhewasdead.Itwasn’tsadatall.”JeanLouisesaid,“Whew.”Alexandrasaid,“Atticus!
YouknowhewasEdgar’s
babyboy.”Henrysaid,“Itwasawful,
MissAlexandra.”“CousinEdgarstillcourtin’
you,Aunty?”askedJeanLouise.“Lookslikeafterelevenyearshe’daskyoutomarryhim.”Atticusraisedhiseyebrows
inwarning.Hewatchedhisdaughter’sdaemonriseanddominateher:hereyebrows,likehis,werelifted,theheavy-liddedeyesbeneath
themgrewround,andonecornerofhermouthwasraiseddangerously.Whenshelookedthus,onlyGodandRobertBrowningknewwhatshewaslikelytosay.Herauntprotested.
“Really,JeanLouise,Edgarisyourfather’sandmyfirstcousin.”“Atthisstageofthegame,
itshouldn’tmakemuchdifference,Aunty.”
Atticusaskedquickly,“Howdidyouleavethebigcity?”“RightnowIwanttoknow
aboutthisbigcity.Youtwoneverwritemeanydirt.Aunty,I’mdependingonyoutogivemeayear’snewsinfifteenminutes.”ShepattedHenryonthearm,moretokeephimfromstartingabusinessconversationwithAtticusthananythingelse.
Henryinterpreteditasawarmgestureandreturnedit.“Well—”saidAlexandra.
“Well,youmusthaveheardabouttheMerriweathers.Thatwasamightysadthing.”“Whathappened?”“They’veparted.”“What?”saidJeanLouise
ingenuineamazement.“Youmeanseparated?”“Yes,”herauntnodded.Sheturnedtoherfather.
“TheMerriweathers?How
longhavetheybeenmarried?”Atticuslookedatthe
ceiling,remembering.Hewasapreciseman.“Forty-twoyears,”hesaid.“Iwasattheirwedding.”Alexandrasaid,“Wefirst
gotwindofsomethingwrongwhenthey’dcometochurchandsitonoppositesidesoftheauditorium…”Henrysaid,“Theyglaredat
eachotherforSundayson
end…”Atticussaid,“Andthenext
thingyouknowtheywereintheofficeaskingmetoget’emadivorce.”“Didyou?”JeanLouise
lookedatherfather.“Idid.”“Onwhatgrounds?”“Adultery.”JeanLouiseshookherhead
inwonder.Lord,shethought,theremustbesomethinginthewater—
Alexandra’svoicecutthroughherruminations:“JeanLouise,didyoucomedownonthetrainLikeThat?”Caughtoffside,ittooka
momentforhertoascertainwhatherauntmeantbyLikeThat.“Oh—yessum,”shesaid,
“butwaitaminute,Aunty.IleftNewYorkstockinged,gloved,andshod.IputontheserightafterwepassedAtlanta.”
Herauntsniffed.“Idowishthistimeyou’dtrytodressbetterwhileyou’rehome.Folksintowngetthewrongimpressionofyou.Theythinkyouare—ah—slumming.”JeanLouisehadasinking
feeling.TheHundredYears’Warhadprogressedtoapproximatelyitstwenty-sixthyearwithnoindicationsofanythingmorethanperiodsofuneasytruce.
“Aunty,”shesaid.“I’vecomehomefortwoweeksofjustsitting,pureandsimple.IdoubtifI’llevermovefromthehousethewholetime.Ibeatmybrainsoutallyearround—”Shestoodupandwentto
thefireplace,glaredatthemantelpiece,andturnedaround.“IfthefolksinMaycombdon’tgetoneimpression,they’llgetanother.They’recertainlynot
usedtoseeingmedressedup.”Hervoicebecamepatient:“Look,ifIsuddenlysprangon’emfullyclothedthey’dsayI’dgoneNewYork.NowyoucomealongandsaytheythinkIdon’tcarewhattheythinkwhenIgoaroundinslacks.GoodLord,Aunty,MaycombknowsIdidn’twearanythingbutoverallstillIstartedhavingtheCurse—”
Atticusforgothishands.Hebentovertotieperfectlytiedshoelacesandcameupwithaflushedbutstraightface.“That’lldo,Scout,”hesaid.“Apologizetoyouraunt.Don’tstartarowtheminuteyougethome.”JeanLouisesmiledather
father.Whenregisteringdisapprobation,healwaysrevertedbacktoherchildhoodnickname.Shesighed.“I’msorry,Aunty.
I’msorry,Hank.Iamoppressed,Atticus.”“ThengobacktoNew
Yorkandbeuninhibited.”Alexandrastoodupand
smoothedthevariouswhaleboneridgesrunningupanddownherperson.“Didyouhaveanydinneronthetrain?”“Yessum,”shelied.“Thenhowaboutcoffee?”“Please.”“Hank?”
“Yessum,please.”Alexandralefttheroom
withoutconsultingherbrother.JeanLouisesaid,“Stillhaven’tlearnedtodrinkit?”“No,”saidherfather.“Whiskeyeither?”“No.”“Cigarettesandwomen?”“No.”“Youhaveanyfunthese
days?”“Imanage.”
JeanLouisemadeagolfgripwithherhands.“Howisit?”sheasked.“Noneofyourbusiness.”“Canyoustillusea
putter?”“Yes.”“Youusedtodoprettywell
forablindman.”Atticussaid,“There’s
nothingwrongwithmy—”“Nothingexceptyoujust
can’tsee.”
“Wouldyoucaretoprovethatstatement?”“Yessir.Tomorrowat
threeokay?”“Yes—no.I’vegota
meetingon.HowaboutMonday?Hank,dowehaveanythingonforMondayafternoon?”Hankstirred.“Nothingbut
thatmortgagecomingupatone.Shouldn’ttakemorethananhour.”
Atticussaidtohisdaughter,“I’myourman,then.Fromthelooksofyou,MissPriss,it’llbetheblindleadingtheblind.”Atthefireplace,Jean
Louisehadpickedupablackenedoldwooden-shaftputterwhichhaddoneyearsofdouble-dutyasapoker.Sheemptiedagreatantiquespittoonofitscontents—golfballs—turneditonitsside,kickedthegolfballsintothe
middleofthelivingroom,andwasputtingthembackintothespittoonwhenherauntreappearedcarryingatrayofcoffee,cupsandsaucers,andcake.“Betweenyouandyour
fatherandyourbrother,”Alexandrasaid,“thatrugisadisgrace.Hank,whenIcametokeephouseforhimthefirstthingIdidwashaveitdyedasdarkasIcould.Yourememberhowitusedto
look?Why,therewasablackpathfromheretothefireplacenothingcouldtakeout….”Hanksaid,“Irememberit,
ma’am.I’mafraidIwasacontributortoit.”JeanLouisedrovethe
putterhomebesidethefiretongs,gatheredupthegolfballs,andthrewthematthespittoon.ShesatonthesofaandwatchedHankretrievethestrays.Inevertireof
watchinghimmove,shethought.Hereturned,drankacupof
scaldingblackcoffeeatanalarmingrateofspeed,andsaid,“Mr.Finch,I’dbetterbegoing.”“WaitabitandI’llcome
withyou,”saidAtticus.“Feellikeit,sir?”“Certainly.JeanLouise,”
hesaidsuddenly,“howmuchofwhat’sgoingondownheregetsintothenewspapers?”
“Youmeanpolitics?Well,everytimetheGovernor’sindiscreetithitsthetabloids,butbeyondthat,nothing.”“ImeanabouttheSupreme
Court’sbidforimmortality.”“Oh,that.Well,tohearthe
Posttellit,welynch’emforbreakfast;theJournaldoesn’tcare;andtheTimesissowrappedupinitsdutytoposterityitboresyoutodeath.Ihaven’tpaidanyattentiontoitexceptforthe
busstrikesandthatMississippibusiness.Atticus,thestate’snotgettingaconvictioninthatcasewasourworstblundersincePickett’sCharge.”“Yes,itwas.Isupposethe
papersmadehaywithit?”“Theywentinsane.”“AndtheNAACP?”“Idon’tknowanything
aboutthatbunchexceptthatsomemisguidedclerksentmesomeNAACPChristmas
sealslastyear,soIstuck’emonallthecardsIsenthome.DidCousinEdgargethis?”“Hedid,andhemadea
fewsuggestionsastowhatIshoulddowithyou.”Herfatherwassmilingbroadly.“Likewhat?”“ThatIshouldgotoNew
York,grabyoubythehairofthehead,andtakeaswitchtoyou.Edgar’salwaysdisapprovedofyou,says
you’remuchtooindependent….”“Neverdidhaveasenseof
humor,pompousoldcatfish.That’sjustwhatheis:whiskershereandhereandacatfishmouth.IreckonhethinksmylivingaloneinNewYorkisipsofactolivinginsin.”“Itamountstothat,”said
Atticus.Hehauledhimselfoutofthearmchairand
motionedforHenrytogetgoing.HenryturnedtoJean
Louise.“Seven-thirty,honey?”Shenodded,thenlookedat
herauntoutofthecornerofhereye.“AllrightifIwearmyslacks?”“Noma’am.”“Goodforyou,Hank,”said
Alexandra.
3
THEREWASNOdoubtaboutit:AlexandraFinchHancockwasimposingfromanyangle;herbehindwasnolessuncompromisingthanherfront.JeanLouisehadoftenwondered,butneverasked,whereshegothercorsets.Theydrewupherbosomto
giddyheights,pinchedinherwaist,flaredoutherrear,andmanagedtosuggestthatAlexandra’shadoncebeenanhourglassfigure.Ofallherrelatives,her
father’ssistercameclosesttosettingJeanLouise’steethpermanentlyonedge.Alexandrahadneverbeenactivelyunkindtoher—shehadneverbeenunkindtoanylivingcreature,excepttotherabbitsthatateherazaleas,
whichshepoisoned—butshehadmadeJeanLouise’slifehellonwheelsinherday,inherowntime,andinherownway.NowthatJeanLouisewasgrown,theyhadneverbeenabletosustainfifteenminutes’conversationwithoneanotherwithoutadvancingirreconcilablepointsofview,invigoratinginfriendships,butinclosebloodrelationsproducingonlyuneasycordiality.There
weresomanythingsaboutherauntJeanLouisesecretlydelightedinwhenhalfacontinentseparatedthem,whichoncontactwereabrasive,andwerecanceledoutwhenJeanLouiseundertooktoexamineheraunt’smotives.Alexandrawasoneofthosepeoplewhohadgonethroughlifeatnocosttothemselves;hadshebeenobligedtopayanyemotionalbillsduringher
earthlylife,JeanLouisecouldimagineherstoppingatthecheck-indeskinheavenanddemandingarefund.Alexandrahadbeen
marriedforthirty-threeyears;ifithadmadeanyimpressiononheronewayoranother,shenevershowedit.Shehadspawnedoneson,Francis,whoinJeanLouise’sopinionlookedandbehavedlikeahorse,andwholongagoleftMaycombforthegloriesof
sellinginsuranceinBirmingham.Itwasjustaswell.Alexandrahadbeenand
wasstilltechnicallymarriedtoalargeplacidmannamedJamesHancock,whoranacottonwarehousewithgreatexactitudeforsixdaysaweekandfishedontheseventh.OneSundayfifteenyearsagohesentwordtohiswifebywayofaNegroboyfromhisfishingcampontheTensas
Riverthathewasstayingdownthereandnotcomingback.AfterAlexandramadesurenootherfemalewasinvolved,shecouldnothavecaredless.Francischosetomakeithiscrosstobearinlife;heneverunderstoodwhyhisUncleAtticusremainedonexcellentbutremotetermswithhisfather—FrancisthoughtAtticusshouldDoSomething—orwhyhismotherwasnotprostrate
fromhisfather’seccentric,thereforeunforgivable,behavior.UncleJimmygotwindofFrancis’sattitudeandsentupanothermessagefromthewoodsthathewasreadyandwillingtomeethimifFranciswantedtocomeshoothim,butFrancisneverdid,andeventuallyathirdcommunicationreachedFrancis,towit:ifyouwon’tcomedownherelikeaman,hush.
UncleJimmy’sdefectioncausednotarippleonAlexandra’sblandhorizon:herMissionarySocietyrefreshmentswerestillthebestintown;heractivitiesinMaycomb’sthreeculturalclubsincreased;sheimprovedhercollectionofmilkglasswhenAtticuspriedUncleJimmy’smoneyloosefromhim;inshort,shedespisedmenandthrivedoutoftheirpresence.Thathersonhad
developedallthelatentcharacteristicsofathree-dollarbillescapedhernotice—allsheknewwasthatshewasgladhelivedinBirminghambecausehewasoppressivelydevotedtoher,whichmeantthatshefeltobligedtomakeanefforttoreciprocate,whichshecouldnotwithanyspontaneitydo.Toallpartiespresentand
participatinginthelifeofthecounty,however,Alexandra
wasthelastofherkind:shehadriver-boat,boarding-schoolmanners;letanymoralcomealongandshewouldupholdit;shewasadisapprover;shewasanincurablegossip.WhenAlexandrawentto
finishingschool,self-doubtcouldnotbefoundinanytextbook,sosheknewnotitsmeaning;shewasneverbored,andgiventheslightestchanceshewouldexercise
herroyalprerogative:shewouldarrange,advise,caution,andwarn.Shewascompletely
unawarethatwithonetwistofthetongueshecouldplungeJeanLouiseintoamoralturmoilbymakingherniecedoubtherownmotivesandbestintentions,bytweakingtheprotestant,philistinestringsofJeanLouise’sconscienceuntiltheyvibratedlikeaspectral
zither.HadAlexandraeverpressedJeanLouise’svulnerablepointswithawareness,shecouldhaveaddedanotherscalptoherbelt,butafteryearsoftacticalstudyJeanLouiseknewherenemy.Althoughshecouldrouther,JeanLouisehadnotyetlearnedhowtorepairtheenemy’sdamage.Thelasttimeshe
skirmishedwithAlexandrawaswhenherbrotherdied.
AfterJem’sfuneral,theywereinthekitchencleaninguptheremainsofthetribalbanquetsthatareapartofdyinginMaycomb.Calpurnia,theFinches’oldcook,hadrunofftheplaceandnotcomebackwhenshelearnedofJem’sdeath.AlexandraattackedlikeHannibal:“Idothink,JeanLouise,thatnowisthetimeforyoutocomehomefor
good.Yourfatherneedsyouso.”Fromlongexperience,Jean
Louisebristledimmediately.Youlie,shethought.IfAtticusneededmeIwouldknowit.Ican’tmakeyouunderstandhowI’dknowitbecauseIcan’tgetthroughtoyou.“Needme?”shesaid.“Yes,dear.Surelyyou
understandthat.Ishouldn’thavetotellyou.”
Tellme.Settleme.Thereyougo,wadinginyourclodhoppersthroughourprivateterritory.Why,heandIdon’teventalkaboutit.“Aunty,ifAtticusneeds
me,youknowI’llstay.Rightnowheneedsmelikeaholeinthehead.We’dbemiserablehereinthehousetogether.Heknowsit,Iknowit.Don’tyouseethatunlesswegobacktowhatweweredoingbeforethishappened,
ourrecovery’llbefarslower?Aunty,Ican’tmakeyouunderstand,buttruly,theonlywayIcandomydutytoAtticusisbydoingwhatI’mdoing—makingmyownlivingandmyownlife.TheonlytimeAtticus’llneedmeiswhenhishealthfails,andIdon’thavetotellyouwhatI’ddothen.Don’tyousee?”No,shedidn’t.Alexandra
sawwhatMaycombsaw:Maycombexpectedevery
daughtertodoherduty.Thedutyofhisonlydaughtertoherwidowedfatherafterthedeathofhisonlysonwasclear:JeanLouisewouldreturnandmakeherhomewithAtticus;thatwaswhatadaughterdid,andshewhodidnotwasnodaughter.“—youcangetajobatthe
bankandgotothecoastonweekends.There’sacutecrowdinMaycombnow;lots
ofnewyoungpeople.Youliketopaint,don’tyou?”Liketopaint.Whatthehell
didAlexandrathinkshewasdoingwithhereveningsinNewYork?ThesameasCousinEdgar,probably.ArtStudentsLeagueeveryweeknightateight.Youngladiessketched,didwatercolors,wroteshortparagraphsofimaginativeprose.ToAlexandra,therewasadistinctanddistasteful
differencebetweenonewhopaintsandapainter,onewhowritesandawriter.“—therearealotofpretty
viewsonthecoastandyou’llhaveweekendsfree.”Jehovah.Shecatchesme
whenI’mnearlyoutofmymindandlaysouttheavenuesofmylife.Howcanshebehissisterandnothavetheslightestideawhatgoesoninhishead,myhead,anybody’shead?OhLord,whydidn’t
yougiveustonguestoexplaintoAuntAlexandra?“Aunty,it’seasytotellsomebodywhattodo—”“Butveryhardtomake
themdoit.That’sthecauseofmosttroubleinthisworld,peoplenotdoingasthey’retold.”Itwasdecidedupon,
definitely.JeanLouisewouldstayhome.AlexandrawouldtellAtticus,anditwould
makehimthehappiestmanintheworld.“Aunty,I’mnotstaying
home,andifIdidAtticuswouldbethesaddestmanintheworld…butdon’tworry,Atticusunderstandsperfectly,andI’msureonceyougetstartedyou’llmakeMaycombunderstand.”Theknifehitdeep,
suddenly:“JeanLouise,yourbrotherworriedaboutyour
thoughtlessnessuntilthedayhedied!”Itwasrainingsoftlyonhis
gravenow,inthehotevening.Youneversaidit,younevereventhoughtit;ifyou’dthoughtityou’dhavesaidit.Youwerelikethat.Restwell,Jem.Sherubbedsaltintoit:I’m
thoughtless,allright.Selfish,self-willed,Ieattoomuch,andIfeelliketheBookofCommonPrayer.Lord
forgivemefornotdoingwhatIshouldhavedoneandfordoingwhatIshouldn’thavedone—ohhell.ShereturnedtoNewYork
withathrobbingconsciencenotevenAtticuscouldease.Thiswastwoyearsago,
andJeanLouisehadlongsincequitworryingabouthowthoughtlessshewas,andAlexandrahaddisarmedherbyperformingtheonegenerousactofAlexandra’s
life:whenAtticusdevelopedarthritis,Alexandrawenttolivewithhim.JeanLouisewashumblewithgratitude.HadAtticusknownofthesecretdecisionbetweenhissisterandhisdaughterhewouldhaveneverforgiventhem.Hedidnotneedanyone,butitwasanexcellentideatohavesomeonearoundtokeepaneyeonhim,buttonhisshirtswhenhishandswereuseless,
andrunhishouse.Calpurniahaddoneituntilsixmonthsago,butshewassooldAtticusdidmorehousekeepingthanshe,andshereturnedtotheQuartersinhonorableretirement.“I’lldothose,Aunty,”Jean
Louisesaid,whenAlexandracollectedthecoffeecups.Sheroseandstretched.“Yougetsleepywhenit’slikethis.”“Justthesefewcups,”said
Alexandra.“Icando’emina
minute.Youstaywhereyouare.”JeanLouisestayedwhere
shewasandlookedaroundthelivingroom.Theoldfurnituresetwellinthenewhouse.Sheglancedtowardthediningroomandsawonthesideboardhermother’sheavysilverwaterpitcher,goblets,andtrayshiningagainstthesoftgreenwall.Heisanincredibleman,
shethought.Achapterofhis
lifecomestoaclose,Atticustearsdowntheoldhouseandbuildsanewoneinanewsectionoftown.Icouldn’tdoit.Theybuiltanicecreamparlorwheretheoldonewas.Wonderwhorunsit?Shewenttothekitchen.“Well,how’sNewYork?”
saidAlexandra.“WantanothercupbeforeIthrowthisout?”“Yessum,please.”
“Oh,bytheway,I’mgivingaCoffeeforyouMondaymorning.”“Aunty!”JeanLouise
groaned.CoffeeswerepeculiarlyMaycombianinnature.Theyweregivenforgirlswhocamehome.Suchgirlswereplacedonviewat10:30A.M.fortheexpresspurposeofallowingthewomenoftheiragewhohadremainedenisledinMaycombtoexaminethem.
Childhoodfriendshipswererarelyrenewedundersuchconditions.JeanLouisehadlosttouch
withnearlyeveryoneshegrewupwithanddidnotwishparticularlytorediscoverthecompanionsofheradolescence.Herschooldayswerehermostmiserabledays,shewasunsentimentaltothepointofcallousnessaboutthewomen’scollegeshehad
attended,nothingdispleasedhermorethantobesetinthemiddleofagroupofpeoplewhoplayedRememberOldSo-and-So.“Ifindtheprospectofa
Coffeeinfinitelyhorrifyin’,”shesaid,“butI’dloveone.”“Ithoughtyouwould,
dear.”Apangoftendernessswept
overher.ShewouldneverbeabletothankAlexandraenoughforcomingtostay
withAtticus.Sheconsideredherselfaheelforeverhavingbeensarcastictoheraunt,whoinspiteofhercorsetshadacertaindefenselessnessplusacertainfinenessJeanLouisewouldneverhave.Sheisthelastofherkind,shethought.Nowarshadevertouchedher,andshehadlivedthroughthree;nothinghaddisturbedthatworldofhers,wheregentlemensmokedontheporchorin
hammocks,whereladiesfannedthemselvesgentlyanddrankcoolwater.“How’sHankdoing?”“He’sdoingbeautifully,
hon.YouknowhewasmadeManoftheYearbytheKiwanisClub.Theygavehimalovelyscroll.”“No,Ididn’t.”ManoftheYearbythe
KiwanisClub,apostwarMaycombinnovation,usually
meantYoungManGoingPlaces.“Atticuswassoproudof
him.Atticussayshedoesn’tknowthemeaningofthewordcontractyet,buthe’sdoingfinewithtaxation.”JeanLouisegrinned.Her
fathersaidittookatleastfiveyearstolearnlawafteroneleftlawschool:onepracticedeconomyfortwoyears,learnedAlabamaPleadingfortwomore,rereadtheBible
andShakespeareforthefifth.Thenonewasfullyequippedtoholdonunderanyconditions.“Whatwouldyousayif
Hankbecameyournephew?”Alexandrastoppeddrying
herhandsonthedishtowel.SheturnedandlookedsharplyatJeanLouise.“Areyouserious?”“Imightbe.”“Don’tbeinahurry,
honey.”
“Hurry?I’mtwenty-six,Aunty,andI’veknownHankforever.”“Yes,but—”“What’sthematter,don’t
youapproveofhim?”“It’snotthat,it’s—Jean
Louise,datingaboyisonething,butmarryinghim’sanother.Youmusttakeallthingsintoaccount.Henry’sbackground—”“—isliterallythesameas
mine.Wegrewupineach
other’spockets.”“There’sadrinkingstreak
inthatfamily—”“Aunty,there’sadrinking
streakineveryfamily.”Alexandra’sbackstiffened.
“NotintheFinchfamily.”“You’reright.We’rejust
allcrazy.”“That’suntrueandyou
knowit,”saidAlexandra.“CousinJoshuawas’round
thebend,don’tforgetthat.”
“Youknowhegotitfromtheotherside.JeanLouise,there’snofinerboyinthiscountythanHenryClinton.Hewouldmakesomegirlalovelyhusband,but—”“Butyou’rejustsayingthat
aClinton’snotgoodenoughforaFinch.Auntyhon-ey,thatsortofthingwentoutwiththeFrenchRevolution,orbeganwithit,Iforgetwhich.”
“I’mnotsayingthatatall.It’sjustthatyoushouldbecarefulaboutthingslikethis.”JeanLouisewassmiling,
andherdefenseswerecheckedandready.Itwasbeginningagain.Lord,whydidIeverevenhintatit?Shecouldhavekickedherself.AuntAlexandra,ifgiventhechance,wouldpickoutsomenicecleancowofagirlfromWildForkforHenryandgive
thechildrenherblessing.ThatwasHenry’splaceinlife.“Well,Idon’tknowhow
carefulyoucanget,Aunty.AtticuswouldlovehavingHankofficiallywithus.Youknowit’dticklehimtodeath.”Indeeditwould.Atticus
FinchhadwatchedHenry’sraggedpursuitofhisdaughterwithbenignobjectivity,givingadvicewhenaskedfor
it,butabsolutelydecliningtobecomeinvolved.“Atticusisaman.He
doesn’tknowmuchaboutthesethings.”JeanLouise’steethbegan
tohurt.“Whatthings,Aunty?”“Nowlook,JeanLouise,if
youhadadaughterwhatwouldyouwantforher?Nothingbutthebest,naturally.Youdon’tseemtorealizeit,andmostpeople
youragedon’tseemto—howwouldyouliketoknowyourdaughterwasgoingtomarryamanwhosefatherdesertedhimandhismotheranddieddrunkontherailroadtracksinMobile?CaraClintonwasagoodsoul,andshehadasadlife,anditwasasadthing,butyouthinkaboutmarryingtheproductofsuchaunion.It’sasolemnthought.”Asolemnthoughtindeed.
JeanLouisesawtheglintof
gold-rimmedspectaclesslungacrossasourfacelookingoutfromunderacrookedwig,thetwitterofabonyfinger.Shesaid:
“Thequestion,gentlemen—isoneofliquor;
Youaskforguidance—thisismyreply:
Hesays,whentipsy,hewouldthrashandkickher,
Let’smakehimtipsy,gentlemen,andtry!”
Alexandrawasnotamused.Shewasextremelyannoyed.Shecouldnotcomprehendtheattitudesofyoungpeoplethesedays.Notthattheyneededunderstanding—youngpeoplewerethesameineverygeneration—butthiscockiness,thisrefusaltotakeseriouslythegravestquestionsoftheirlives,
nettledandirritatedher.JeanLouisewasabouttomaketheworstmistakeofherlife,andshegliblyquotedthosepeopleather,shemockedher.Thatgirlshouldhavehadamother.Atticushadletherrunwildsinceshewastwoyearsold,andlookwhathehadreaped.Nowsheneededbringinguptothelineandbringingupsharply,beforeitwastoolate.
“JeanLouise,”shesaid,“Iwouldliketoremindyouofafewfactsoflife.No”—Alexandraheldoutherhandforsilence—“I’mquitesureyouknowthosefactsalready,butthereareafewthingsyouinyourwisecrackingwaydon’tknow,andblessgoodnessI’mgoingtotellyou.Youareasinnocentasanew-laideggforallyourcityliving.Henryisnotandneverwillbesuitableforyou.We
Finchesdonotmarrythechildrenofredneckedwhitetrash,whichisexactlywhatHenry’sparentswerewhentheywerebornandwerealltheirlives.Youcan’tcallthemanythingbetter.TheonlyreasonHenry’slikeheisnowisbecauseyourfathertookhiminhandwhenhewasaboy,andbecausethewarcamealongandpaidforhiseducation.Fineaboyasheis,thetrashwon’twash
outofhim.“Haveyouevernoticed
howhelickshisfingerswhenheeatscake?Trash.Haveyoueverseenhimcoughwithoutcoveringhismouth?Trash.DidyouknowhegotagirlintroubleattheUniversity?Trash.Haveyoueverwatchedhimpickathisnosewhenhedidn’tthinkanybodywaslooking?Trash—”
“That’snotthetrashinhim,that’sthemaninhim,Aunty,”shesaidmildly.Inwardly,shewasseething.Giveherafewmoreminutesandshe’llhaveworkedherselfintoagoodhumoragain.Shecanneverbevulgar,asIamabouttobe.Shecanneverbecommon,likeHankandme.Idon’tknowwhatsheis,butshebetterlayofforI’llgivehersomethingtothinkabout—
“—andtotopitall,hethinkshecanmakeaplaceforhimselfinthistownridingonyourfather’scoattails.Theveryidea,tryingtotakeyourfather’splaceintheMethodistChurch,tryingtotakeoverhislawpractice,drivingallaroundthecountryinhiscar.Why,heactslikethishousewashisownalready,andwhatdoesAtticusdo?Hetakesit,that’swhathedoes.Takesitand
lovesit.Why,allofMaycomb’stalkingaboutHenryClintongrabbingeverythingAtticushas—”JeanLouisestopped
runningherfingersaroundthelipofawetcuponthesink.Sheflickedadropofwateroffherfingerontothefloorandrubbeditintothelinoleumwithhershoe.“Aunty,”shesaid,
cordially,“whydon’tyougopeeinyourhat?”
THERITUALENACTEDonSaturdaynightsbetweenJeanLouiseandherfatherwastoooldtobebroken.JeanLouisewalkedintothelivingroomandstoodinfrontofhischair.Sheclearedherthroat.Atticusputdownthe
MobilePressandlookedather.Sheturnedaroundslowly.“AmIallzippedup?
Stockingseamsstraight?Ismycowlickdown?”
“Seveno’clockandall’swell,”saidAtticus.“You’vebeenswearingatyouraunt.”“Ihavenot.”“Shetoldmeyouhad.”“Iwascrude,butIdidn’t
cussher.”WhenJeanLouiseandherbrotherwerechildren,Atticushadoccasionallydrawnthemasharpdistinctionbetweenmerescatologyandblasphemy.Theonehecouldabide;hehateddraggingGodintoit.
Asaresult,JeanLouiseandherbrotherneversworeinhispresence.“Shegotmygoat,Atticus.”“Youshouldn’thavelet
her.Whatdidyousaytoher?”JeanLouisetoldhim.
Atticuswinced.“Well,you’dbettermakepeacewithher.Sweet,shegetsonahighhorsesometimes,butshe’sagoodwoman—”
“ItwasaboutHankandshemadememad.”Atticuswasawiseman,so
hedroppedthesubject.TheFinchdoorbellwasa
mysticalinstrument;itwaspossibletotellthestateofmindofwhoeverpushedit.Whenitsaiddee-ding!JeanLouiseknewHenrywasoutsidebearingdownhappily.Shehurriedtothedoor.
Thepleasant,remotelymasculinesmellofhimhitherwhenhewalkedintothehall,butshavingcream,tobacco,newcar,anddustybooksfadedatthememoryoftheconversationinthekitchen.Suddenlysheputherarmsaroundhiswaistandnuzzledherheadonhischest.“Whatwasthatfor?”said
Henrydelightedly.“GeneralPrinciples,who
foughtinthePeninsularWar.
Let’sgetgoing.”Henrypeeredaroundthe
corneratAtticusinthelivingroom.“I’llbringherhomeearly,Mr.Finch.”Atticusjiggledthepaperathim.Whentheywalkedoutinto
thenight,JeanLouisewonderedwhatAlexandrawoulddoifsheknewherniecewasclosertomarryingtrashthanshehadeverbeeninherlife.
PARTII
4
THETOWNOFMaycomb,Alabama,oweditslocationtothepresenceofmindofoneSinkfield,whointheearlydawningsofthecountyoperatedaninnwheretwopigtrailsmet,theonlytavernintheterritory.GovernorWilliamWyattBibb,witha
viewtopromotingthedomestictranquillityofthenewcounty,sentoutateamofsurveyorstolocateitsexactcenterandthereestablishitsseatofgovernment:hadnotSinkfieldmadeaboldstroketopreservehisholdings,MaycombwouldhavesatinthemiddleofWinstonSwamp,aplacetotallydevoidofinterest.
Instead,Maycombgrewandsprawledoutfromitshub,Sinkfield’sTavern,becauseSinkfieldmadethesurveyorsdrunkoneevening,inducedthemtobringforwardtheirmapsandcharts,lopoffalittlehere,addabitthere,andadjustthecenterofthecountytomeethisrequirements.Hesentthempackingthenextdayarmedwiththeirchartsandfivequartsofshinnyintheir
saddlebags—twoapieceandonefortheGovernor.JeanLouisecouldnever
makeuphermindwhetherSinkfield’smaneuverwaswise;heplacedtheyoungtowntwentymilesawayfromtheonlykindofpublictransportationinthosedays—river-boat—andittookamanfromthesouthendofthecountytwodaystojourneytoMaycombforstore-boughtgoods.Consequently,the
townremainedthesamesizeforover150years.Itsprimaryreasonforexistencewasgovernment.WhatsaveditfrombecominganothergrubbylittleAlabamacommunitywasthatMaycomb’sproportionofprofessionalpeopleranhigh:onewenttoMaycombtohavehisteethpulled,hiswagonfixed,hisheartlistenedto,hismoneydeposited,hismulesvetted,
hissoulsaved,hismortgageextended.Newpeoplerarelywent
theretolive.Thesamefamiliesmarriedthesamefamiliesuntilrelationshipswerehopelesslyentangledandthemembersofthecommunitylookedmonotonouslyalike.JeanLouise,untiltheSecondWorldWar,wasrelatedbybloodormarriagetonearlyeverybodyinthetown,but
thiswasmildcomparedtowhatwentoninthenorthernhalfofMaycombCounty:therewasacommunitycalledOldSarumpopulatedbytwofamilies,separateandapartinthebeginning,butunfortunatelybearingthesamename.TheCunninghamsandtheConinghamsmarriedeachotheruntilthespellingofthenameswasacademic—academicunlessa
CunninghamwishedtojapewithaConinghamoverlandtitlesandtooktothelaw.TheonlytimeJeanLouiseeversawJudgeTayloratadeadstandstillinopencourtwasduringadisputeofthiskind.JeemsCunninghamtestifiedthathismotherspelleditCunninghamoccasionallyondeedsandthingsbutshewasreallyaConingham,shewasanuncertainspeller,andshewasgiventolookingfaraway
sometimeswhenshesatonthefrontporch.AfterninehoursoflisteningtothevagariesofOldSarum’sinhabitants,JudgeTaylorthrewthecaseoutofcourtongroundsoffrivolouspleadinganddeclaredhehopedtoGodthelitigantsweresatisfiedbyeachhavinghadhispublicsay.Theywere.Thatwasalltheyhadwantedinthefirstplace.
Maycombdidnothaveapavedstreetuntil1935,courtesyofF.D.Roosevelt,andeventhenitwasnotexactlyastreetthatwaspaved.ForsomereasonthePresidentdecidedthataclearingfromthefrontdooroftheMaycombGrammarSchooltotheconnectingtworutsadjoiningtheschoolpropertywasinneedofimprovement,itwasimprovedaccordingly,
resultinginskinnedkneesandcrackedcraniaforthechildrenandaproclamationfromtheprincipalthatnobodywastoplayPop-the-Whiponthepavement.Thustheseedsofstates’rightsweresownintheheartsofJeanLouise’sgeneration.TheSecondWorldWardid
somethingtoMaycomb:itsboyswhocamebackreturnedwithbizarreideasaboutmakingmoneyandan
urgencytomakeupforlosttime.Theypaintedtheirparents’housesatrociouscolors;theywhitewashedMaycomb’sstoresandputupneonsigns;theybuiltredbrickhousesoftheirowninwhatwereformerlycornpatchesandpinethickets;theyruinedtheoldtown’slooks.Itsstreetswerenotonlypaved,theywerenamed(AdelineAvenue,forMissAdelineClay),buttheolder
residentsrefrainedfromusingstreetnames—theroadthatrunsbytheTompkinsPlacewassufficienttogetone’sbearings.AfterthewaryoungmenfromtenantfarmsalloverthecountyflockedtoMaycombanderectedmatchboxwoodenhousesandstartedfamilies.Nobodyquiteknewhowtheymadealiving,buttheydid,andtheywouldhavecreatedanewsocialstratuminMaycomb
hadtherestofthetownacknowledgedtheirexistence.AlthoughMaycomb’s
appearancehadchanged,thesameheartsbeatinnewhouses,overMixmasters,infrontoftelevisionsets.Onecouldwhitewashallhepleased,andputupcomicneonsigns,buttheagedtimbersstoodstrongundertheiradditionalburden.“Youdon’tlikeit,do
you?”askedHenry.“Isaw
yourfacewhenyouwalkedinthedoor.”“Conservativeresistanceto
change,that’sall,”saidJeanLouisebehindamouthfuloffriedshrimp.TheywereintheMaycombHoteldiningroomsittingonchromiumchairsatatablefortwo.Theair-conditioningunitmadeitswillknownbyaconstantlowrumble.“TheonlythingIlikeaboutitisthesmell’sgone.”
Alongtableladenwithmanydishes,thesmellofmustyoldroomandhotgreaseinthekitchen.“Hank,what’sHot-Grease-in-the-Kitchen?”“Mm?”“Itwasagameor
something.”“YoumeanHotPeas,
honey.That’sjumpingrope,whentheyturntheropefastandtrytotripyou.”
“No,ithadsomethingtodowithTag.”Shecouldnotremember.
Whenshewasdying,sheprobablywouldremember,butnowonlythefaintflashofadenimsleevecaughtinhermind,aquickcry,“Hotgreaseinthekit-chen!”Shewonderedwhoownedthesleeve,whathadbecomeofhim.Hemightberaisingafamilyoutinoneofthosenewlittlehouses.Shehadan
oddfeelingthattimehadpassedherby.“Hank,let’sgotothe
river,”shesaid.“Didn’tthinkweweren’t,
didyou?”Henrywassmilingather.Heneverknewwhy,butJeanLouisewasmostlikeheroldselfwhenshewenttoFinch’sLanding:sheseemedtobreathesomethingoutoftheair—“You’reaJekyll-and-Hydecharacter,”hesaid.
“You’vebeenwatchingtoomuchtelevision.”“SometimesIthinkI’ve
gotyoulikethis”—Henrymadeafist—“andjustwhenIthinkI’vegotyou,holdingyoutight,yougoawayfromme.”JeanLouiseraisedher
eyebrows.“Mr.Clinton,ifyou’llpermitanobservationfromawomanoftheworld,yourhandisshowing.”“How?”
Shegrinned.“Don’tyouknowhowtocatchawoman,honey?”Sherubbedanimaginarycrewcut,frowned,andsaid,“Womenlikefortheirmentobemasterfulandatthesametimeremote,ifyoucanpullthattrick.Makethemfeelhelpless,especiallywhenyouknowtheycanpickupaloadoflight’udknotswithnotrouble.Neverdoubtyourselfinfrontofthem,and
bynomeanstellthemyoudon’tunderstandthem.”“Touché,baby,”said
Henry.“ButI’dquibblewithyourlastsuggestion.Ithoughtwomenlikedtobethoughtstrangeandmysterious.”“No,theyjustliketolook
strangeandmysterious.Whenyougetpastalltheboafeathers,everywomanborninthisworldwantsastrongmanwhoknowsherlikea
book,who’snotonlyherloverbuthewhokeepethIsrael.Stupid,isn’tit?”“Shewantsafatherinstead
ofahusband,then.”“That’swhatitamounts
to,”shesaid.“Thebooksarerightonthatscore.”Henrysaid,“You’rebeing
verywisethisevening.Where’dyoupickupallthis?”“LivinginsininNew
York,”shesaid.Shelighteda
cigaretteandinhaleddeeply.“Ilearneditfromwatchingsleek,MadisonAvenueyyoungmarrieds—youknowthatlanguage,baby?It’slotsoffun,butyouneedanearforit—theygothroughakindoftribalfandango,buttheapplication’suniversal.Itbeginsbythewivesbeingboredtodeathbecausetheirmenaresotiredfrommakingmoneytheydon’tpayanyattentionto’em.Butwhen
theirwivesstarthollering,insteadoftryingtounderstandwhy,themenjustgofindasympatheticshouldertocryon.Thenwhentheygettiredoftalkingaboutthemselvestheygobacktotheirwives.Everything’srosyforawhile,butthemengettiredandtheirwivesstartyellin’againandarounditgoes.MeninthisagehaveturnedtheOtherWomanintoapsychiatrist’s
couch,andatfarlessexpense,too.”Henrystaredather.“I’ve
neverheardyousocynical,”hesaid.“What’sthematterwithyou?”JeanLouiseblinked.“I’m
sorry,honey.”Shecrushedouthercigarette.“It’sjustthatI’msoafraidofmakingamessofbeingmarriedtothewrongman—thewrongkindforme,Imean.I’mnodifferentfromanyother
woman,andthewrongmanwouldturnmeintoascreamin’shrewinrecordtime.”“Whatmakesyousosure
you’llmarrythewrongman?Didn’tyouknowI’mawife-beaterfromwayback?”Ablackhandheldoutthe
checkonatray.Thehandwasfamiliartoherandshelookedup.“Hi,Albert,”shesaid.“They’veputyouinawhitecoat.”
“Yesma’am,MissScout,”saidAlbert.“How’sNewYork?”“Justfine,”shesaid,and
wonderedwhoelseinMaycombstillrememberedScoutFinch,juveniledesperado,hellraiserextraordinary.NobodybutUncleJack,perhaps,whosometimesembarrassedherunmercifullyinfrontofcompanywithatinklingrecitativeofherchildhood
felonies.Shewouldseehimatchurchtomorrow,andtomorrowafternoonshewouldhavealongvisitwithhim.UncleJackwasoneoftheabidingpleasuresofMaycomb.“Whyisit,”saidHenry
deliberately,“thatyouneverdrinkmorethanhalfyoursecondcupofcoffeeaftersupper?”Shelookeddownather
cup,surprised.Anyreference
toherpersonaleccentricities,evenfromHenry,madehershy.AstuteofHanktonoticethat.Whyhadhewaitedfifteenyearstotellher?
5
WHENSHEWASgettinginthecarshebumpedherheadhardagainstitstop.“Damnation!Whydon’ttheymakethesethingshighenoughtogetinto?”Sherubbedherforeheaduntilhereyesfocused.“Okay,honey?”
“Yeah.I’mallright.”Henryshutthedoorsoftly,
wentaround,andgotinbesideher.“Toomuchcityliving,”hesaid.“You’reneverinacarupthere,areyou?”“No.Howlongbefore
they’llcut’emdowntoonefoothigh?We’llberidingpronenextyear.”“Shotoutofacannon,”
saidHenry.“Shotfrom
MaycombtoMobileinthreeminutes.”“I’dbecontentwithanold
squareBuick.Rememberthem?Yousatatleastfivefeetofftheground.”Henrysaid,“Remember
whenJemfelloutofthecar?”Shelaughed.“Thatwasmy
holdoverhimforweeks—anybodywhocouldn’tgettoBarker’sEddywithoutfallingoutofthecarwasabigwethen.”
Inthedimpast,Atticushadownedanoldcanvas-toptouringcar,andoncewhenhewastakingJem,Henry,andJeanLouiseswimming,thecarrolledoveraparticularlybadhumpintheroadanddepositedJemwithout.AtticusdroveserenelyonuntiltheyreachedBarker’sEddy,becauseJeanLouisehadnointentionofadvisingherfatherthatJemwasnolongerpresent,andshe
preventedHenryfromdoingsobycatchinghisfingerandbendingitback.Whentheyarrivedatthecreekbank,Atticusturnedaroundwithahearty“Everybodyout!”andthesmilefrozeonhisface:“Where’sJem?”JeanLouisesaidheoughttobecomingalonganyminutenow.WhenJemappearedpuffing,sweaty,andfilthyfromhisenforcedsprint,heranstraightpastthemanddived
intothecreekwithhisclotheson.Secondslateramurderousfaceappearedfrombeneaththesurface,saying,“Comeoninhere,Scout!Idareyou,Hank!”Theytookhisdare,andonceJeanLouisethoughtJemwouldchokethelifeoutofher,buthelethergoeventually:Atticuswasthere.“They’veputaplaning
millontheeddy,”saidHenry.“Can’tswiminitnow.”
HenrydroveuptotheE-LiteEatShopandhonkedthehorn.“Giveustwoset-upsplease,Bill,”hesaidtotheyouthwhoappearedathissummons.InMaycomb,onedrankor
didnotdrink.Whenonedrank,onewentbehindthegarage,turnedupapint,anddrankitdown;whenonedidnotdrink,oneaskedforset-upsattheE-LiteEatShopundercoverofdarkness:a
manhavingacoupleofdrinksbeforeorafterdinnerinhishomeorwithhisneighborwasunheardof.ThatwasSocialDrinking.ThosewhoDrankSociallywerenotquiteoutofthetopdrawer,andbecausenooneinMaycombconsideredhimselfoutofanydrawerbutthetop,therewasnoSocialDrinking.“Makeminelight,honey,”
shesaid.“Justcolorthe
water.”“Haven’tyoulearnedto
holdityet?”Henrysaid.HereachedundertheseatandcameupwithabrownbottleofSeagram’sSeven.“Notthehardkind,”she
said.Henrycoloredthewaterin
herpapercup.Hepouredhimselfaman-sizeddrink,stirreditwithhisfinger,andbottlebetweenhisknees,hereplaceditscap.Heshovedit
undertheseatandstartedthecar.“We’reoff,”hesaid.Thecartireshummedon
theasphaltandmadehersleepy.TheonethingshelikedmostaboutHenryClintonwasthatheletherbesilentwhenshewantedtobe.Shedidnothavetoentertainhim.Henryneverattemptedto
pesterherwhenshewasthus.HisattitudewasAsquithian,
andheknewsheappreciatedhimforhispatience.Shedidnotknowhewaslearningthatvirtuefromherfather.“Relax,son,”Atticushadtoldhiminoneofhisrarecommentsonher.“Don’tpushher.Lethergoatherownspeed.Pushherandeverymuleinthecounty’dbeeasiertolivewith.”HenryClinton’sclassin
LawSchoolattheUniversitywascomposedofbright,
humorlessyoungveterans.Thecompetitionwasterrific,butHenrywasaccustomedtohardwork.Althoughhewasabletokeepupandmanageverywell,helearnedlittleofpracticalvalue.AtticusFinchwasrightwhenhesaidtheonlygoodtheUniversitydidHenrywaslethimmakefriendswithAlabama’sfuturepoliticians,demagogues,andstatesmen.Onebegantogetaninklingofwhatlawwas
aboutonlywhenthetimecametopracticeit.Alabamaandcommonlawpleading,forinstance,wasasubjectsoetherealinnaturethatHenrypasseditonlybymemorizingthebook.Thebitterlittlemanwhotaughtthecoursewastheloneprofessorintheschoolwhohadgutsenoughtotrytoteachit,andevenheevincedtherigidityofimperfectunderstanding.“Mr.Clinton,”hehadsaid,whenHenry
venturedtoinquireaboutaparticularlyambiguousexamination,“youmaywriteuntildoomsdayforallIcare,butifyouranswersdonotcoincidewithmyanswerstheyarewrong.Wrong,sir.”NowonderAtticusconfoundedHenryintheearlydaysoftheirassociationbysaying,“Pleading’slittlemorethanputtingonpaperwhatyouwanttosay.”Patientlyandunobtrusively
AtticushadtaughthimeverythingHenryknewabouthiscraft,butHenrysometimeswonderedifhewouldbeasoldasAtticusbeforehereducedlawtohispossession.Tom,Tom,thechimneysweep’sson.Wasthattheoldbailmentcase?No,thefirstofthetreasuretrovecases:possessionholdsgoodagainstallcomersexceptthetrueowner.Theboyfoundabrooch.He
lookeddownatJeanLouise.Shewasdozing.Hewashertrueowner,that
wascleartohim.Fromthetimeshethrewrocksathim;whenshealmostblewherheadoffplayingwithgunpowder;whenshewouldspringuponhimfrombehind,catchhiminahardhalfnelson,andmakehimsayCalfRope;whenshewasillanddeliriousonesummeryellingforhimandJemand
Dill—HenrywonderedwhereDillwas.JeanLouisewouldknow,shekeptintouch.“Honey,where’sDill?”JeanLouiseopenedher
eyes.“Italy,lasttimeIheard.”Shestirred.CharlesBaker
Harris.Dill,thefriendofherheart.Sheyawnedandwatchedthefrontofthecarconsumethewhitelineinthehighway.“Wherearewe?”
“Tenmoremilestogoyet.”Shesaid,“Youcanfeelthe
riveralready.”“Youmustbehalf
alligator,”saidHenry.“Ican’t.”“IsTwo-ToedTomstill
around?”Two-ToedTomlived
wherevertherewasariver.Hewasagenius:hemadetunnelsbeneathMaycombandatepeople’schickensat
night;hewasoncetrackedfromDemopolistoTensas.HewasasoldasMaycombCounty.“Wemightseehim
tonight.”“Whatmadeyouthinkof
Dill?”sheasked.“Idon’tknow.Justthought
ofhim.”“Youneverlikedhim,did
you?”Henrysmiled.“Iwas
jealousofhim.Hehadyou
andJemtohimselfallsummerlong,whileIhadtogohomethedayschoolwasout.Therewasnobodyathometofoolaroundwith.”Shewassilent.Time
stopped,shifted,andwentlazilyinreverse.Somehow,then,itwasalwayssummer.Hankwasdownathismother’sandunavailable,andJemhadtomakedowithhisyoungersisterforcompany.Thedayswerelong,Jemwas
eleven,andthepatternwasset:Theywereonthesleeping
porch,thecoolestpartofthehouse.TheysleptthereeverynightfromthebeginningofMaytotheendofSeptember.Jem,whohadbeenlyingonhiscotreadingsincedaybreak,thrustafootballmagazineinherface,pointedtoapicture,andsaid,“Who’sthis,Scout?”
“JohnnyMackBrown.Let’splayastory.”Jemrattledthepageather.
“Who’sthisthen?”“You,”shesaid.“Okay.CallDill.”Itwasunnecessarytocall
Dill.ThecabbagestrembledinMissRachel’sgarden,thebackfencegroaned,andDillwaswiththem.DillwasacuriositybecausehewasfromMeridian,Mississippi,andwaswiseinthewaysof
theworld.HespenteverysummerinMaycombwithhisgreat-aunt,wholivednextdoortotheFinches.Hewasashort,square-built,cotton-headedindividualwiththefaceofanangelandthecunningofastoat.Hewasayearolderthanshe,butshewasaheadtaller.“Hey,”saidDill.“Let’s
playTarzantoday.I’mgonnabeTarzan.”
“Youcan’tbeTarzan,”saidJem.“I’mJane,”shesaid.“Well,I’mnotgoingtobe
theapeagain,”saidDill.“Ialwayshavetobetheape.”“YouwanttobeJane,
then?”askedJem.Hestretched,pulledonhispants,andsaid,“We’llplayTomSwift.I’mTom.”“I’mNed,”saidDilland
shetogether.“Noyou’renot,”shesaidtoDill.
Dill’sfacereddened.“Scout,youalwayshavetobesecond-best.Ineveramthesecond-best.”“Youwanttodosomething
aboutit?”sheaskedpolitely,clenchingherfists.Jemsaid,“YoucanbeMr.
Damon,Dill.He’salwaysfunnyandhesaveseverybodyintheend.Youknow,healwaysblesseseverything.”
“Blessmyinsurancepolicy,”saidDill,hookinghisthumbsthroughinvisiblesuspenders.“Ohallright.”“What’sitgonnabe,”said
Jem,“HisOceanAirportorHisFlyingMachine?”“I’mtiredofthose,”she
said.“Makeusupone.”“Okay.Scout,you’reNed
Newton.Dill,you’reMr.Damon.Now,onedayTom’sinhislaboratoryworkingonamachinethatcanseethrough
abrickwallwhenthismancomesinandsays,‘Mr.Swift?’I’mTom,soIsay,‘Yessir?’—”“Can’tanythingsee
throughabrickwall,”saidDill.“Thisthingcould.
Anyway,thismancomesinandsays,‘Mr.Swift?’”“Jem,”shesaid,“ifthere’s
gonnabethismanwe’llneedsomebodyelse.WantmetorungetBennett?”
“No,thismandoesn’tlastlong,soI’lljusttellhispart.You’vegottobeginastory,Scout—”Thisman’spartconsisted
ofadvisingtheyounginventorthatavaluableprofessorhadbeenlostintheBelgianCongoforthirtyyearsanditwashightimesomebodytriedtogethimout.NaturallyhehadcometoseektheservicesofTomSwiftandhisfriends,and
Tomleapedattheprospectofadventure.ThethreeclimbedintoHis
FlyingMachine,whichwascomposedofwideboardstheyhadlongagonailedacrossthechinaberrytree’sheaviestbranches.“It’sawfulhotuphere,”
saidDill.“Huh-huh-huh.”“What?”saidJem.“Isayit’sawfulhotup
heresoclosetothesun.Blessmylongunderwear.”
“Youcan’tsaythat,Dill.Thehigheryougothecolderitgets.”“Ireckonitgetshotter.”“Well,itdoesn’t.The
higheritisthecolderitisbecausetheairgetsthinner.NowScout,yousay,‘Tom,wherearewegoing?’”“Ithoughtweweregoing
toBelgium,”saidDill.“You’vegottosaywhere
arewegoingbecausethemantoldme,hedidn’ttellyou,
andIhaven’ttoldyouyet,see?”Theysaw.WhenJemexplainedtheir
mission,Dillsaid,“Ifhe’sbeenlostforthatlong,howdotheyknowhe’salive?”Jemsaid,“Thismansaid
he’dgotasignalfromtheGoldCoastthatProfessorWigginswas—”“Ifhe’djustheardfrom
him,howcomehe’slost?”shesaid.
“—wasamongalosttribeofheadhunters,”continuedJem,ignoringher.“Ned,doyouhavetheriflewiththeX-raySight?Nowyousayyes.”Shesaid,“Yes,Tom.”“Mr.Damon,haveyou
stockedtheFlyingMachinewithenoughprovisions?MisterDamon!”Dilljerkedtoattention.
“Blessmyrollingpin,Tom.Yes-siree!Huh-huh-huh!”
Theymadeathree-pointlandingontheoutskirtsofCapetown,andshetoldJemhehadn’tgivenheranythingtosayfortenminutesandshewasn’tgoingtoplayanymoreifhedidn’t.“Okay.Scout,yousay,
‘Tom,there’snotimetolose.Let’sheadforthejungle.’”Shesaidit.Theymarchedaroundthe
backyard,slashingatfoliage,occasionallypausingtopick
offastrayelephantorfightatribeofcannibals.Jemledtheway.Sometimesheshouted,“Getback!”andtheyfellflatontheirbelliesinthewarmsand.OnceherescuedMr.DamonfromVictoriaFallswhileshestoodaroundandsulkedbecauseallshehadtodowasholdtheropethatheldJem.PresentlyJemcried,
“We’realmostthere,socomeon!”
Theyrushedforwardtothecarhouse,avillageofheadhunters.Jemdroppedtohiskneesandbeganbehavinglikeasnakehealer.“Whatareyoudoing?”she
said.“Shh!Makingasacrifice.”“Youlookafflicted,”said
Dill.“What’sasacrifice?”“Youmakeittokeepthe
headhuntersoffyou.Look,theretheyare!”Jemmadealowhummingnoise,said
somethinglike“buja-buja-buja,”andthecarhousecamealivewithsavages.Dillrolledhiseyesupin
theirsocketsinanauseatingway,stiffened,andfelltotheground.“They’vegotMr.Damon!”
criedJem.TheycarriedDill,stiffasa
light-pole,outintothesun.TheygatheredfigleavesandplacedtheminarowdownDillfromhisheadtohisfeet.
“Thinkit’llwork,Tom?”shesaid.“Might.Can’ttellyet.Mr.
Damon?Mr.Damon,wakeup!”Jemhithimonthehead.Dillroseupscatteringfig
leaves.“Nowstopit,JemFinch,”hesaid,andresumedhisspread-eagleposition.“I’mnotgonnastayheremuchlonger.It’sgettinghot.”Jemmademysteriouspapal
passesoverDill’sheadand
said,“Look,Ned.He’scomingto.”Dill’seyelidsflutteredand
opened.Hegotupandreeledaroundtheyardmuttering,“WhereamI?”“Righthere,Dill,”shesaid,
insomealarm.Jemscowled.“Youknow
that’snotright.Yousay,‘Mr.Damon,you’relostintheBelgianCongowhereyouhavebeenputunderaspell.IamNedandthisisTom.’”
“Arewelost,too?”saidDill.“Wewereallthetimeyou
werehexedbutwe’renotanymore,”saidJem.“ProfessorWigginsisstakedoutinahutoveryonderandwe’vegottogethim—”Forallsheknew,Professor
Wigginswasstillstakedout.Calpurniabrokeeverybody’sspellbystickingherheadoutthebackdoorandscreaming,“Yawlwantanylemonade?
It’sten-thirty.Youallbettercomegetsomeoryou’llbeboiledaliveinthatsun!”Calpurniahadplacedthree
tumblersandabigpitcherfulloflemonadeinsidethedooronthebackporch,anarrangementtoensuretheirstayingintheshadeforatleastfiveminutes.Lemonadeinthemiddleofthemorningwasadailyoccurrenceinthesummertime.Theydownedthreeglassesapieceand
foundtheremainderofthemorninglyingemptilybeforethem.“WanttogooutinDobbs
Pasture?”askedDill.No.“Howaboutlet’smakea
kite?”shesaid.“WecangetsomeflourfromCalpurnia…”“Can’tflyakiteinthe
summertime,”saidJem.“There’snotabreathofairblowing.”
Thethermometeronthebackporchstoodatninety-two,thecarhouseshimmeredfaintlyinthedistance,andthegianttwinchinaberrytreesweredeadlystill.“Iknowwhat,”saidDill.
“Let’shavearevival.”Thethreelookedatone
another.Therewasmeritinthis.DogdaysinMaycomb
meantatleastonerevival,andonewasinprogressthat
week.Itwascustomaryforthetown’sthreechurches—Methodist,Baptist,andPresbyterian—touniteandlistentoonevisitingminister,butoccasionallywhenthechurchescouldnotagreeonapreacherorhissalary,eachcongregationhelditsownrevivalwithanopeninvitationtoall;sometimes,therefore,thepopulacewasassuredofthreeweeks’spiritualreawakening.
Revivaltimewasatimeofwar:waronsin,Coca-Cola,pictureshows,huntingonSunday;warontheincreasingtendencyofyoungwomentopaintthemselvesandsmokeinpublic;warondrinkingwhiskey—inthisconnectionatleastfiftychildrenpersummerwenttothealtarandsworetheywouldnotdrink,smoke,orcurseuntiltheyweretwenty-one;waronsomethingso
nebulousJeanLouisenevercouldfigureoutwhatitwas,excepttherewasnothingtoswearconcerningit;andwaramongthetown’sladiesoverwhocouldsetthebesttablefortheevangelist.Maycomb’sregularpastorsatefreeforaweekalso,anditwashintedindisrespectfulquartersthatthelocalclergydeliberatelyledtheirchurchesintoholdingseparateservices,therebygainingtwo
moreweeks’honoraria.This,however,wasalie.Thatweek,forthreenights,
Jem,Dill,andshehadsatinthechildren’ssectionoftheBaptistChurch(theBaptistswerehoststhistime)andlistenedtothemessagesoftheReverendJamesEdwardMoorehead,arenownedspeakerfromnorthGeorgia.Atleastthatiswhattheyweretold;theyunderstoodlittleofwhathesaidexcept
hisobservationsonhell.Hellwasandwouldalwaysbeasfarasshewasconcerned,alakeoffireexactlythesizeofMaycomb,Alabama,surroundedbyabrickwalltwohundredfeethigh.SinnerswerepitchforkedoverthiswallbySatan,andtheysimmeredthroughouteternityinasortofbrothofliquidsulfur.ReverendMooreheadwas
atallsadmanwithastoop
andatendencytogivehissermonsstartlingtitles.(WouldYouSpeaktoJesusIfYouMetHimontheStreet?ReverendMooreheaddoubtedthatyoucouldevenifyouwantedto,becauseJesusprobablyspokeAramaic.)Thesecondnighthepreached,histopicwasTheWagesofSin.Atthattimethelocalmoviehousewasfeaturingafilmofthesametitle(personsunder
sixteennotadmitted):MaycombthoughtReverendMooreheadwasgoingtopreachonthemovie,andthewholetownturnedouttohearhim.ReverendMooreheaddidnothingofthekind.Hesplithairsforthree-quartersofanhouronthegrammaticalaccuracyofhistext.(Whichwascorrect—thewagesofsinisdeathorthewagesofsinaredeath?Itmadeadifference,andReverend
MooreheaddrewdistinctionsofsuchprofunditythatnotevenAtticusFinchcouldtellwhathewasdrivingat.)Jem,Dill,andshewould
havebeenboredstiffhadnotReverendMooreheadpossessedasingulartalentforfascinatingchildren.Hewasawhistler.Therewasagapbetweenhistwofrontteeth(Dillsworetheywerefalse,theywerejustmadethatwaytolooknatural)which
producedadisastrouslysatisfyingsoundwhenhesaidawordcontainingonesormore.Sin,Jesus,Christ,sorrow,salvation,success,werekeywordstheylistenedforeachnight,andtheirattentionwasrewardedintwoways:inthosedaysnoministercouldgetthroughasermonwithoutusingthemall,andtheywereassuredofmuffledparoxysmsofmuffleddelightatleastseven
timesanevening;secondly,becausetheypaidsuchstrictattentiontoReverendMoorehead,Jem,Dill,andshewerethoughttobethebest-behavedchildreninthecongregation.Thethirdnightofthe
revivalwhenthethreewentforwardwithseveralotherchildrenandacceptedChristastheirpersonalSavior,theylookedhardatthefloorduringtheceremonybecause
ReverendMooreheadfoldedhishandsovertheirheadsandsaidamongotherthings,“Blessedishewhosittethnotintheseatofthescornful.”Dillwasseizedwithabadwhoopingspell,andReverendMooreheadwhisperedtoJem,“Takethechildoutintotheair.Heisovercome.”Jemsaid,“Itellyouwhat,
wecanhaveitoverinyouryardbythefishpool.”
Dillsaidthatwouldbefine.“Yeah,Jem.Wecangetsomeboxesforapulpit.”Agraveldrivewaydivided
theFinchyardfromMissRachel’s.ThefishpoolwasinMissRachel’ssideyard,anditwassurroundedbyazaleabushes,rosebushes,camelliabushes,andcapejessaminebushes.Someoldfatgoldfishlivedinthepoolwithseveralfrogsandwaterlizards,shadedbywidelilypadsand
ivy.Agreatfigtreespreaditspoisonousleavesoverthesurroundingarea,makingitthecoolestintheneighborhood.MissRachelhadputsomeyardfurniturearoundthepool,andtherewasasawbucktableunderthefigtree.Theyfoundtwoempty
cratesinMissRachel’ssmokehouseandsetupanaltarinfrontofthepool.Dillstationedhimselfbehindit.
“I’mMr.Moorehead,”hesaid.“I’mMr.Moorehead,”said
Jem.“I’mtheoldest.”“Ohallright,”saidDill.“YouandScoutcanbethe
congregation.”“Wewon’thaveanything
todo,”shesaid,“andIswanneeifI’llsithereforanhourandlistentoyou,JemFinch.”“YouandDillcantakeup
collection,”saidJem.“You
canbethechoir,too.”Thecongregationdrewup
twoyardchairsandsatfacingthealtar.Jemsaid,“Nowyouall
singsomething.”SheandDillsang:
“Amazinggracehowsweetthuhsound
Thatsavedawretchlikeme;
IoncewaslostbutnowI’mfound,
Wasblind,butnowIsee.A-men.”
Jemwrappedhisarmsaroundthepulpit,leanedover,andsaidinconfidentialtones,“My,itlooksgoodtoseeyouallthismorning.Thisisabeautifulmorning.”Dillsaid,“A-men.”“Doesanybodythis
morningfeellikeopeningupwideandsingin’hisheartout?”askedJem.
“Yes-ssir,”saidDill.Dill,whosesquareconstructionandlackofheightdoomedhimforevertoplaythecharacterman,rose,andbeforetheireyesbecameaone-manchoir:
“WhenthetrumpetoftheLordshallsound,andtimeshallbenomore,
Andthemorningbreaks,eternal,brightandfair;
Whenthesavedofearthshallgatheroverontheothershore,
Andtherolliscalledupyonder,I’llbethere.”
Theministerandthecongregationjoinedinthechorus.Whiletheyweresinging,sheheardCalpurniacallinginthedimdistance.Shebattedthegnatlikesoundawayfromherear.
Dill,redinthefacefromhisexertions,satdownandfilledtheAmenCorner.Jemclippedinvisible
pince-neztohisnose,clearedhisthroat,andsaid,“Thetextfortheday,mybrethren,isfromthePsalms:‘MakeajoyfulnoiseuntotheLord,Oyegates.’”Jemdetachedhispince-
nez,andwhilewipingthemrepeatedinadeepvoice,
“MakeajoyfulnoiseuntotheLord.”Dillsaid,“It’stimetotake
upcollection,”andhitherforthetwonickelsshehadinherpocket.“Yougive’embackafter
church,Dill,”shesaid.“Youallhush,”saidJem.
“It’stimeforthesermon.”Jempreachedthelongest,
mosttedioussermonsheeverheardinherlife.Hesaidthatsinwasaboutthemostsinful
thinghecouldthinkof,andnoonewhosinnedcouldbeasuccess,andblessedwashewhosatintheseatofthescornful;inshort,herepeatedhisownversionofeverythingtheyhadheardforthepastthreenights.Hisvoicesanktoitslowestregister;itwouldrisetoasqueakandhewouldclutchattheairasthoughthegroundwereopeningbeneathhisfeet.Heonceasked,“WhereistheDevil?”and
pointedstraightatthecongregation.“RighthereinMaycomb,Alabama.”Hestartedonhell,butshe
said,“Nowcutitout,Jem.”ReverendMoorehead’sdescriptionofitwasenoughtolastheralifetime.Jemreversedhisfieldandtackledheaven:heavenwasfullofbananas(Dill’slove)andscallopedpotatoes(herfavorite),andwhentheydiedtheywouldgothereandeat
goodthingsuntilJudgementDay,butonJudgementDay,God,havingwrittendowneverythingtheydidinabookfromthedaytheywereborn,wouldcastthemintohell.Jemdrewtheservicetoa
closebyaskingallwhowishedtobeunitedwithChristtostepforward.Shewent.Jemputhishandonher
headandsaid,“Younglady,doyourepent?”
“Yessir,”shesaid.“Haveyoubeenbaptized?”“Nosir,”shesaid.“Well—”Jemdippedhis
handintotheblackwaterofthefishpoolandlaiditonherhead.“Ibaptizeyou—”“Hey,waitaminute!”
shoutedDill.“That’snotright!”“Ireckonitis,”saidJem.
“ScoutandmeareMethodists.”
“Yeah,butwe’rehavingaBaptistrevival.You’vegottoduckher.IthinkI’llbebaptized,too.”TheramificationsoftheceremonyweredawningonDill,andhefoughthardfortherole.“I’mtheone,”heinsisted.“I’mtheBaptistsoIreckonI’mtheonetobebaptized.”“Nowlistenhere,Dill
PickleHarris,”shesaidmenacingly.“Ihaven’tdoneablessedthingthiswhole
morning.You’vebeentheAmenCorner,yousangasolo,andyoutookupcollection.It’smytime,now.”Herfistswereclenched,
herleftarmcocked,andhertoesgrippedtheground.Dillbackedaway.“Now
cutitout,Scout.”“She’sright,Dill,”Jem
said.“Youcanbemyassistant.”
Jemlookedather.“Scout,youbettertakeyourclothesoff.They’llgetwet.”Shedivestedherselfofher
overalls,heronlygarment.“Don’tyouholdmeunder,”shesaid,“anddon’tforgettoholdmynose.”Shestoodonthecement
edgeofthepool.Anancientgoldfishsurfacedandlookedbalefullyather,thendisappearedbeneaththedarkwater.
“Howdeep’sthisthing?”sheasked.“Onlyabouttwofeet,”said
Jem,andturnedtoDillforconfirmation.ButDillhadleftthem.TheysawhimgoinglikeastreaktowardMissRachel’shouse.“Reckonhe’smad?”she
asked.“Idon’tknow.Let’swait
andseeifhecomesback.”Jemsaidtheyhadbetter
shoothefishdowntoone
sideofthepoollesttheyhurtone,andtheywereleaningoverthesiderustlingthewaterwhenanominousvoicebehindthemsaid,“Whoo—”“Whoo—”saidDillfrom
beneathadouble-bedsheet,inwhichhehadcuteyeholes.Heraisedhisarmsabovehisheadandlungedather.“Areyouready?”hesaid.“Hurryup,Jem.I’mgettinghot.”“Forcryingoutloud,”said
Jem.“Whatareyouupto?”
“I’mtheHolyGhost,”saidDillmodestly.Jemtookherbythehand
andguidedherintothepool.Thewaterwaswarmandslimy,andthebottomwasslippery.“Don’tyouduckmebutonce,”shesaid.Jemstoodontheedgeof
thepool.Thefigurebeneaththesheetjoinedhimandflappeditsarmswildly.Jemheldherbackandpushedherunder.Asherheadwent
beneaththesurfacesheheardJemintoning,“JeanLouiseFinch,Ibaptizeyouinthenameof—”Whap!MissRachel’sswitchmade
perfectcontactwiththesacredapparition’sbehind.SincehewouldnotgobackwardintothehailofblowsDillsteppedforwardatabriskpaceandjoinedherinthepool.MissRachelflailedrelentlesslyataheaving
tangleoflilypads,bedsheet,legsandarms,andtwiningivy.“Getoutofthere!”Miss
Rachelscreamed.“I’llHolyGhostyou,CharlesBakerHarris!Ripthesheetsoffmybestbed,willyou?Cutholesin’em,willyou?TaketheLord’snameinvain,willyou?Comeon,getoutofthere!”“Cutitout,AuntRachel!”
burbledDill,hisheadhalf
underwater.“Gimmeachance!”Dill’seffortstodisentangle
himselfwithdignitywereonlymoderatelysuccessful:herosefromthepoollikeasmallfantasticalwatermonster,coveredwithgreenslimeanddrippingsheet.Atendrilofivycurledaroundhisheadandneck.Heshookhisheadviolentlytofreehimself,andMissRachel
steppedbacktoavoidthesprayofwater.JeanLouisefollowedhim
out.Hernosetingledhorriblyfromthewaterinit,andwhenshesniffedithurt.MissRachelwouldnot
touchDill,butwavedhimonwithherswitch,saying,“March!”SheandJemwatchedthe
twountiltheydisappearedinsideMissRachel’shouse.
ShecouldnothelpfeelingsorryforDill.“Let’sgohome,”Jemsaid.
“Itmustbedinnertime.”Theyturnedinthe
directionoftheirhouseandlookedstraightintotheeyesoftheirfather.Hewasstandinginthedriveway.Besidehimstoodalady
theydidnotknowandReverendJamesEdwardMoorehead.Theylookedlike
theyhadbeenstandingthereforsometime.Atticuscametowardthem,
takinghiscoatoff.Herthroatclosedtightandherkneesshook.Whenhedroppedhiscoatoverhershoulderssherealizedshewasstandingstarknakedinthepresenceofapreacher.Shetriedtorun,butAtticuscaughtherbythescruffoftheneckandsaid,“GotoCalpurnia.Gointhebackdoor.”
Calpurniascrubbedherviciouslyinthebathtub,muttering,“Mr.Finchcalledthismorningandsaidhewasbringingthepreacherandhiswifehomefordinner.IyelledtillIwasblueinthefaceforyouall.Why’ntyouanswerme?”“Didn’thearyou,”shelied.“Well,itwaseithergetthat
cakeintheovenorroundyouup.Icouldn’tdoboth.Oughttobeashamedofyourselves,
mortifyin’yourdaddylikethat!”ShethoughtCalpurnia’s
bonyfingerwouldgothroughherear.“Stopit,”shesaid.“Ifhedudn’twhalethetar
outofbothofyou,Iwill,”Calpurniapromised.“Nowgetoutofthattub.”Calpurnianearlytookthe
skinoffherwiththeroughtowel,andcommandedhertoraiseherhandsaboveherhead.Calpurniathrusther
intoastifflystarchedpinkdress,heldherchinfirmlybetweenthumbandforefinger,andrakedherhairwithasharp-toothedcomb.Calpurniathrewdownapairofpatentleathershoesatherfeet.“Put’emon.”“Ican’tbutton’em,”she
said.Calpurniabangeddownthetoiletseatandsatheronit.Shewatchedbigscarecrowfingersperformtheintricate
businessofpushingpearlbuttonsthroughholestoosmallforthem,andshemarveledatthepowerinCalpurnia’shands.“Nowgotoyourdaddy.”“Where’sJem?”shesaid.“He’scleaningupinMr.
Finch’sbathroom.Icantrusthim.”Inthelivingroom,sheand
Jemsatquietlyonthesofa.AtticusandReverendMooreheadmade
uninterestingconversation,andMrs.Mooreheadfranklystaredatthechildren.JemlookedatMrs.Mooreheadandsmiled.Hissmilewasnotreturned,sohegaveup.Tothereliefofeveryone,
Calpurniarangthedinnerbell.Atthetable,theysatforamomentinuneasysilence,andAtticusaskedReverendMooreheadtoreturnthanks.ReverendMoorehead,insteadofaskinganimpersonal
blessing,seizedtheopportunitytoadvisetheLordofJem’sandhermisdeeds.BythetimeReverendMooreheadgotaroundtoexplainingthattheseweremotherlesschildrenshefeltoneinchhigh.ShepeekedatJem:hisnosewasalmostinhisplateandhisearswerered.ShedoubtedifAtticuswouldeverbeabletoraisehisheadagain,andhersuspicionwas
confirmedwhenReverendMooreheadfinallysaidAmenandAtticuslookedup.Twobigtearshadrunfrombeneathhisglassesdownthesidesofhischeeks.Theyhadhurthimbadlythistime.Suddenlyhesaid,“Excuseme,”roseabruptly,anddisappearedintothekitchen.Calpurniacamein
carefully,bearingaheavilyladentray.WithcompanycameCalpurnia’scompany
manners:althoughshecouldspeakJeffDavis’sEnglishaswellasanybody,shedroppedherverbsinthepresenceofguests;shehaughtilypasseddishesofvegetables;sheseemedtoinhalesteadily.WhenCalpurniawasathersideJeanLouisesaid,“Excuseme,please,”reachedup,andbroughtCalpurnia’sheadtothelevelofherown.“Cal,”shewhispered,“isAtticusrealupset?”
Calpurniastraightenedup,lookeddownather,andsaidtothetableatlarge,“Mr.Finch?Nawm,MissScout.Heonthebackporchlaughin’!”
‘MR.FINCH?HElaughin’.Carwheelsrunningfrompavementtodirtrousedher.Sheranherfingersthroughherhair.Sheopenedtheglovecompartment,foundapackageofcigarettes,took
oneoutofthepack,andlightedit.“We’realmostthere,”said
Henry.“Wherewereyou?BackinNewYorkwithyourboyfriend?”“Justwoolgathering,”she
said.“Iwasthinkingaboutthetimeweheldarevival.Youmissedthatone.”“Thankgoodness.That’s
oneofDr.Finch’sfavorites.”Shelaughed.“UncleJack’s
toldmethatonefornearly
twentyyears,anditstillembarrassesme.Youknow,DillwastheonepersonweforgottotellwhenJemdied.Somebodysenthimanewspaperclipping.Hefoundoutlikethat.”Henrysaid,“Always
happensthatway.Youforgettheoldestones.Thinkhe’llevercomeback?”JeanLouiseshookher
head.WhentheArmysentDilltoEurope,Dillstayed.
Hewasbornawanderer.Hewaslikeasmallpantherwhenconfinedwiththesamepeopleandsurroundingsforanylengthoftime.Shewonderedwherehewouldbewhenhislifeended.NotonthesidewalkinMaycomb,thatwasforsure.Coolriveraircutthrough
thehotnight.“Finch’sLanding,
madam,”saidHenry.
Finch’sLandingconsistedofthreehundredandsixty-sixstepsgoingdownahighbluffandendinginawidejettyjuttingoutintotheriver.Oneapproacheditbywayofagreatclearingsomethreehundredyardswideextendingfromthebluff’sedgebackintothewoods.Atwo-rutroadranfromthefarendoftheclearingandvanishedamongdarktrees.Attheendoftheroadwasatwo-storied
whitehousewithporchesextendingarounditsfoursides,upstairsanddownstairs.Farfrombeinginan
advancedstageofdecay,theOldFinchHousewasinanexcellentstateofrepair:itwasahuntingclub.SomebusinessmenfromMobilehadleasedthelandaroundit,boughtthehouse,andestablishedwhatMaycombthoughtwasaprivate
gamblinghell.Itwasnot:theroomsoftheoldhouserangonwinternightswithmalecheer,andoccasionallyashotgunwouldbeletoff,notinangerbutinexcessivehighspirits.Letthemplaypokerandcarousealltheywanted,allJeanLouisewantedwasfortheoldhousetobetakencareof.Thehousehadaroutine
historyfortheSouth:itwasboughtbyAtticusFinch’s
grandfatherfromtheuncleofarenownedladypoisonerwhooperatedonbothsidesoftheAtlanticbutwhocamefromafineoldAlabamafamily.Atticus’sfatherwasborninthehouse,andsowereAtticus,Alexandra,Caroline(whomarriedaMobileman),andJohnHaleFinch.Theclearingwasusedforfamilyreunionsuntiltheywentoutofstyle,whichwas
wellwithinJeanLouise’srecollection.AtticusFinch’sgreat-great-
grandfather,anEnglishMethodist,settledbytherivernearClaiborneandproducedsevendaughtersandoneson.TheymarriedthechildrenofColonelMaycomb’stroops,werefruitful,andestablishedwhatthecountycalledtheEightFamilies.Throughtheyears,whenthedescendantsgatheredannually,itwould
becomenecessaryfortheFinchinresidenceattheLandingtohackawaymoreofthewoodsforpicnicgrounds,thusaccountingfortheclearing’spresentsize.Itwasusedformorethingsthanfamilyreunions,however:Negroesplayedbasketballthere,theKlanmetthereinitshalcyondays,andagreattournamentwasheldinAtticus’stimeinwhichthegentlemenofthecounty
joustedforthehonorofcarryingtheirladiesintoMaycombforagreatbanquet.(AlexandrasaidwatchingUncleJimmydriveapolethrougharingatfullgallopwaswhatmadehermarryhim.)Atticus’stimealsowas
whentheFinchesmovedtotown:AtticusreadlawinMontgomeryandreturnedtopracticeinMaycomb;Alexandra,overcomeby
UncleJimmy’sdexterity,wentwithhimtoMaycomb;JohnHaleFinchwenttoMobiletostudymedicine;andCarolineelopedatseventeen.Whentheirfatherdiedtheyrentedouttheland,buttheirmotherwouldnotbudgefromtheoldplace.Shestayedon,watchingthelandrentedandsoldpiecebypiecefromaroundher.Whenshedied,allthatwasleftwasthehouse,theclearing,andthe
landing.ThehousestayedemptyuntilthegentlemenfromMobileboughtit.JeanLouisethoughtshe
rememberedhergrandmother,butwasnotsure.WhenshesawherfirstRembrandt,awomaninacapandruff,shesaid,“There’sGrandma.”Atticussaidno,itdidn’tevenlooklikeher.ButJeanLouisehadanimpressionthatsomewhereintheoldhouseshehadbeen
takenintoafaintlylightedroom,andinthemiddleoftheroomsatanold,old,ladydressedinblack,wearingawhitelacecollar.ThestepstotheLanding
werecalled,ofcourse,theLeap-YearSteps,andwhenJeanLouisewasachildandattendedtheannualreunions,sheandmultitudesofcousinswoulddrivetheirparentstothebrinkofthebluffworryingaboutthemplaying
onthestepsuntilthechildrenwerecaughtanddividedintotwocategories,swimmersandnonswimmers.Thosewhocouldnotswimwererelegatedtotheforestsideoftheclearingandmadetoplayinnocuousgames;swimmershadtherunofthesteps,supervisedcasuallybytwoNegroyouths.Thehuntingclubhadkept
thestepsindecentrepair,andusedthejettyasadockfor
theirboats.Theywerelazymen;itwaseasiertodriftdownstreamandrowovertoWinstonSwampthantothrashthroughunderbrushandpineslashes.Fartherdownstream,beyondthebluff,weretracesoftheoldcottonlandingwhereFinchNegroesloadedbalesandproduce,andunloadedblocksofice,flourandsugar,farmequipment,andladies’things.Finch’sLandingwasused
onlybytravelers:thestepsgavetheladiesanexcellentexcusetoswoon;theirluggagewasleftatthecottonlanding—todebarkthereinfrontoftheNegroeswasunthinkable.“Thinkthey’resafe?”Henrysaid,“Sure.The
clubkeeps’emup.We’retrespassing,youknow.”“Trespassing,hell.I’dlike
toseethedaywhenaFinchcan’twalkoverhisown
land.”Shepaused.“Whatdoyoumean?”“Theysoldthelastofit
fivemonthsago.”JeanLouisesaid,“They
didn’tsaywordonetomeaboutit.”Thetoneofhervoicemade
Henrystop.“Youdon’tcare,doyou?”“No,notreally.Ijustwish
they’dtoldme.”Henrywasnotconvinced.
“Forheaven’ssake,Jean
Louise,whatgoodwasittoMr.Finchandthem?”“Nonewhatever,with
taxesandthings.Ijustwishthey’dtoldme.Idon’tlikesurprises.”Henrylaughed.Hestooped
downandbroughtupahandfulofgraysand.“GoingSouthernonus?WantmetodoaGeraldO’Hara?”“Quitit,Hank.”Hervoice
waspleasant.
Henrysaid,“Ibelieveyouaretheworstofthelot.Mr.Finchisseventy-twoyearsyoungandyou’reahundredyearsoldwhenitcomestosomethinglikethis.”“Ijustdon’tlikemyworld
disturbedwithoutsomewarning.Let’sgodowntothelanding.”“Youuptoit?”“Icanbeatyoudownany
day.”
Theyracedtothesteps.WhenJeanLouisestartedtheswiftdescentherfingersbrushedcoldmetal.Shestopped.Theyhadputaniron-piperailingonthestepssincelastyear.Hankwastoofaraheadtocatch,butshetried.Whenshereachedthe
landing,outofbreath,Henrywasalreadysprawledoutontheboards.“Carefulofthetar,hon,”hesaid.
“I’mgettingold,”shesaid.Theysmokedinsilence.
Henryputhisarmunderherneckandoccasionallyturnedandkissedher.Shelookedatthesky.“Youcanalmostreachupandtouchit,it’ssolow.”Henrysaid,“Wereyou
seriousaminuteagowhenyousaidyoudidn’tlikeyourworlddisturbed?”“Hm?”Shedidnotknow.
Shesupposedshewas.She
triedtoexplain:“It’sjustthateverytimeI’vecomehomeforthepastfiveyears—beforethat,even.Fromcollege—something’schangedalittlemore…”“—andyou’renotsureyou
likeit,eh?”Henrywasgrinninginthemoonlightandshecouldseehim.Shesatup.“Idon’tknowif
Icantellyou,honey.WhenyouliveinNewYork,youoftenhavethefeelingthat
NewYork’snottheworld.Imeanthis:everytimeIcomehome,IfeellikeI’mcomingbacktotheworld,andwhenIleaveMaycombit’slikeleavingtheworld.It’ssilly.Ican’texplainit,andwhatmakesitsillieristhatI’dgostarkravinglivinginMaycomb.”Henrysaid,“You
wouldn’t,youknow.Idon’tmeantopressyouforananswer—don’tmove—but
you’vegottomakeupyourmindtoonething,JeanLouise.You’regonnaseechange,you’regonnaseeMaycombchangeitsfacecompletelyinourlifetime.Yourtrouble,now,youwanttohaveyourcakeandeatit:youwanttostoptheclock,butyoucan’t.Soonerorlateryou’llhavetodecidewhetherit’sMaycomborNewYork.”Hesonearlyunderstood.
I’llmarryyou,Hank,ifyou
bringmetolivehereattheLanding.I’llswapNewYorkforthisplacebutnotforMaycomb.Shelookedoutattheriver.
TheMaycombCountysidewashighbluffs;AbbottCountywasflat.Whenitrainedtheriveroverflowedandonecouldrowaboatovercottonfields.Shelookedupstream.TheCanoeFightwasupthere,shethought.SamDalefittheIndiansand
RedEaglejumpedoffthebluff.
Andthenhethinksheknows
Thehillswherehisliferose,
AndtheSeawhereitgoes.
“Didyousaysomething?”saidHenry.“Nothing.Justbeing
romantic,”shesaid.“Bythe
way,Auntydoesn’tapproveofyou.”“I’veknownthatallmy
life.Doyou?”“Yep.”“Thenmarryme.”“Makemeanoffer.”Henrygotupandsat
besideher.Theydangledtheirfeetovertheedgeofthelanding.“Wherearemyshoes?”shesaidsuddenly.“Backbythecarwhere
youkicked’emoff.Jean
Louise,Icansupportusbothnow.Icankeepuswellinafewyearsifthingskeeponbooming.TheSouth’sthelandofopportunitynow.There’senoughmoneyrighthereinMaycombCountytosinka—howwouldyouliketohaveahusbandinthelegislature?”JeanLouisewassurprised.
“Yourunning?”“I’mthinkingaboutit.”“Againstthemachine?”
“Yep.It’saboutreadytofallofitsownweight,andifIgetinonthegroundfloor…”“Decentgovernmentin
MaycombCounty’dbesuchashockIdon’tthinkthecitizenscouldstandit,”shesaid.“WhatdoesAtticusthink?”“Hethinksthetimeis
ripe.”“Youwon’thaveitaseasy
ashedid.”Herfather,aftermakinghisinitialcampaign,
servedinthestatelegislatureforaslongashewished,withoutopposition.Hewasuniqueinthehistoryofthecounty:nomachinesopposedAtticusFinch,nomachinessupportedhim,andnooneranagainsthim.Afterheretired,themachinegobbleduptheoneindependentofficeleft.“No,butIcangive’ema
runfortheirmoney.TheCourthouseCrowdarepretty
wellasleepattheswitchnow,andahardcampaignmightjustbeat’em.”“Baby,youwon’thavea
helpmate,”shesaid.“Politicsboresmetodistraction.”“Anyway,youwon’t
campaignagainstme.That’sareliefinitself.”“Arisingyoungman,
aren’tyou?Whydidn’tyoutellmeyouwereManoftheYear?”
“Iwasafraidyou’dlaugh,”Henrysaid.“Laughatyou,Hank?”“Yeah.Youseemtobe
halflaughingatmeallthetime.”Whatcouldshesay?How
manytimeshadshehurthisfeelings?Shesaid,“YouknowI’veneverbeenexactlytactful,butIsweartoGodI’veneverlaughedatyou,Hank.InmyheartIhaven’t.”
Shetookhisheadinherarms.Shecouldfeelhiscrewcutunderherchin;itwaslikeblackvelvet.Henry,kissingher,drewherdowntohimonthefloorofthelanding.Sometimelater,Jean
Louisebrokeitup:“We’dbetterbegoing,Hank.”“Notyet.”“Yes.”Hanksaidwearily,“The
thingIhatemostaboutthis
placeisyoualwayshavetoclimbbackup.”“IhaveafriendinNew
Yorkwhoalwaysrunsupstairsamileaminute.Saysitkeepshimfromgettingoutofbreath.Whydon’tyoutryit?”“Heyourboyfriend?”“Don’tbesilly,”shesaid.“You’vesaidthatonce
today.”“Gotohell,then,”shesaid.
“You’vesaidthatoncetoday.”JeanLouiseputherhands
onherhips.“Howwouldyouliketogoswimmingwithyourclotheson?Ihaven’tsaidthatoncetoday.RightnowI’djustassoonpushyouinaslookatyou.”“Youknow,Ithinkyou’d
doit.”“I’djustassoon,”she
nodded.
Henrygrabbedhershoulder.“IfIgoyougowithme.”“I’llmakeone
concession,”shesaid.“Youhaveuntilfivetoemptyyourpockets.”“Thisisinsane,Jean
Louise,”hesaid,pullingoutmoney,keys,billfold,cigarettes.Hesteppedoutofhisloafers.Theyeyedoneanotherlike
gameroosters.Henrygotthe
jumponher,butwhenshewasfallingshesnatchedathisshirtandtookhimwithher.Theyswamswiftlyinsilencetothemiddleoftheriver,turned,andswamslowlytothelanding.“Givemeahandup,”shesaid.Dripping,theirclothes
clingingtothem,theymadetheirwayupthesteps.“We’llbealmostdrywhenwegettothecar,”hesaid.
“Therewasacurrentouttheretonight,”shesaid.“Toomuchdissipation.”“CarefulIdon’tpushyou
offthisbluff.Imeanthat.”Shegiggled.“RememberhowMrs.MerriweatherusedtodopooroldMr.Merriweather?Whenwe’remarriedI’mgonnadoyouthesameway.”ItwashardonMr.
Merriweatherifhehappenedtoquarrelwithhiswifewhileonapublichighway.Mr.
Merriweathercouldnotdrive,andiftheirdissensionreachedtheacrimonious,Mrs.Merriweatherwouldstopthecarandhitchhiketotown.Oncetheydisagreedinanarrowlane,andMr.Merriweatherwasabandonedforsevenhours.Finallyhehitchedarideonapassingwagon.“WhenI’minthe
legislaturewecan’ttake
midnightplunges,”saidHenry.“Thendon’trun.”Thecarhummedon.
Gradually,thecoolairrecededanditwasstiflingagain.JeanLouisesawthereflectionofheadlightsbehindtheminthewindshield,andacarpassed.Soonanothercameby,andanother.Maycombwasnear.Withherheadonhis
shoulder,JeanLouisewas
content.Itmightworkafterall,shethought.ButIamnotdomestic.Idon’tevenknowhowtorunacook.Whatdoladiessaytoeachotherwhentheygovisiting?I’dhavetowearahat.I’ddropthebabiesandkill’em.Somethingthatlookedlike
agiantblackbeewhooshedbythemandcareenedaroundthecurveahead.Shesatup,startled.“Whatwasthat?”“CarloadofNegroes.”
“Mercy,whatdotheythinkthey’redoing?”“That’sthewaytheyassert
themselvesthesedays,”Henrysaid.“They’vegotenoughmoneytobuyusedcars,andtheygetoutonthehighwaylikeninety-to-nothing.They’reapublicmenace.”“Driver’slicenses?”“Notmany.Noinsurance,
either.”
“Golly,whatifsomethinghappens?”“It’sjusttoosad.”
ATTHEDOOR,Henrykissedhergentlyandlethergo.“Tomorrownight?”hesaid.Shenodded.“Goodnight,
sweet.”Shoesinhand,shetiptoed
intothefrontbedroomandturnedonthelight.Sheundressed,putonherpajamatops,andsneakedquietlyinto
thelivingroom.Sheturnedonalampandwenttothebookshelves.Ohmurder,shethought.Sheranherfingeralongthevolumesofmilitaryhistory,lingeredatTheSecondPunicWar,andstoppedatTheReasonWhy.MightaswellboneupforUncleJack,shethought.Shereturnedtoherbedroom,snappedofftheceilinglight,gropedforthelamp,andswitchediton.Sheclimbed
intothebedshewasbornin,readthreepages,andfellasleepwiththelighton.
PARTIII
6
“JEANLOUISE,JEANLouise,wakeup!”Alexandra’svoice
penetratedherunconsciousness,andshestruggledtomeetthemorning.SheopenedhereyesandsawAlexandrastandingoverher.“Wh—”shesaid.
“JeanLouise,whatdoyoumean—whatdoyouandHenryClintonmean—bygoingswimminglastnightnaked?”JeanLouisesatupinbed.
“Hnh?”“Isaid,whatdoyouand
HenryClintonmeanbygoingswimmingintheriverlastnightnaked?It’salloverMaycombthismorning.”JeanLouiseputherhead
onherkneesandtriedto
wakeup.“Whotoldyouthat,Aunty?”“MaryWebstercalledat
thecrackofdawn.Saidyoutwowereseenstarkinthemiddleoftheriverlastnightatoneo’clock!”“Anybodywitheyesthat
goodwasuptonogood.”JeanLouiseshruggedhershoulders.“Well,Aunty,IsupposeI’vegottomarryHanknow,haven’tI?”
“I—Idon’tknowwhattothinkofyou,JeanLouise.Yourfatherwilldie,simplydie,whenhefindsout.You’dbettertellhimbeforehefindsoutonthestreetcorner.”Atticuswasstandinginthe
doorwithhishandsinhispockets.“Goodmorning,”hesaid.“What’llkillme?”Alexandrasaid,“I’mnot
goingtotellhim,JeanLouise.It’suptoyou.”
JeanLouisesilentlysignaledherfather;hermessagewasreceivedandunderstood.Atticuslookedgrave.“What’sthematter?”hesaid.“MaryWebsterwasonthe
blower.HeradvanceagentssawHankandmeswimminginthemiddleoftheriverlastnightwithnoclotheson.”“H’rm,”saidAtticus.He
touchedhisglasses.“Ihope
youweren’tdoingthebackstroke.”“Atticus!”saidAlexandra.“Sorry,Zandra,”said
Atticus.“Isthattrue,JeanLouise?”“Partly.HaveIdisgraced
usbeyondrepair?”“Wemightsurviveit.”Alexandrasatdownonthe
bed.“Thenitistrue,”shesaid.“JeanLouise,Idon’tknowwhatyouweredoingat
theLandinglastnightinthefirstplace—”“—butyoudoknow.Mary
Webstertoldyoueverything,Aunty.Didn’tshetellyouwhathappenedafterwards?Throwmemynegligee,pleasesir.”Atticusthrewherpajama
bottomsather.Sheputthemonbeneaththesheet,kickedthesheetback,andstretchedherlegs.
“JeanLouise—”saidAlexandra,andstopped.Atticuswasholdinguparough-driedcottondress.Heputitonthebedandwenttothechair.Hepickeduparough-driedhalfslip,helditup,anddroppeditontopofthedress.“Quittormentingyour
aunt,JeanLouise.Theseyourswimmingtogs?”“Yessir.Reckonweought
totake’emthroughtownona
pole?”Alexandra,puzzled,
fingeredJeanLouise’sgarmentsandsaid,“Butwhatpossessedyoutogoinwithyourclotheson?”Whenherbrotherand
niecelaughed,shesaid,“It’snotfunnyatall.Evenifyoudidgoinwithyourclotheson,Maycombwon’tgiveyoucreditforit.Youmightaswellhavegoneinnaked.Icannotimaginewhatputitin
yourheadstodosuchathing.”“Ican’teither,”saidJean
Louise.“Besides,ifit’sanycomforttoyou,Aunty,itwasn’tthatmuchfun.WejuststartedteasingeachotherandIdaredHankandhecouldn’tbackout,andthenIcouldn’tbackout,andthenextthingyouknowwewereinthewater.”Alexandrawasnot
impressed:“Atyourages,
JeanLouise,suchconductismostunbecoming.”JeanLouisesighedandgot
outofbed.“Well,I’msorry,”shesaid.“Isthereanycoffee?”“There’sapotfulwaiting
foryou.”JeanLouisejoinedher
fatherinthekitchen.Shewenttothestove,pouredherselfacupofcoffee,andsatdownatthetable.“How
canyoudrinkice-coldmilkforbreakfast?”Atticusgulped.“Tastes
betterthancoffee.”“Calpurniausedtosay,
whenJemandI’dbegherforcoffee,thatit’dturnusblacklikeher.Areyouwornwithme?”Atticussnorted.“Ofcourse
not.ButIcanthinkofseveralmoreinterestingthingstodointhemiddleofthenightthanpullatricklikethat.
You’dbettergetreadyforSundaySchool.”
ALEXANDRA’SSUNDAYCORSETwasevenmoreformidablethanhereverydayones.ShestoodinthedoorofJeanLouise’sroomenarmored,hatted,gloved,perfumed,andready.SundaywasAlexandra’s
day:inthemomentsbeforeandafterSundaySchoolsheandfifteenotherMethodist
ladiessattogetherinthechurchauditoriumandconductedasymposiumJeanLouisecalled“TheNewsoftheWeekinReview.”JeanLouiseregrettedthatshehaddeprivedherauntofherSabbathpleasure;todayAlexandrawouldbeonthedefensive,butJeanLouisewasconfidentthatAlexandracouldwageadefensivewarwithlittlelesstacticalgeniusthanherforwardthrusts,that
shewouldemergeandlistentothesermonwithherniece’sreputationintact.“JeanLouise,areyou
ready?”“Almost,”sheanswered.
Sheswipedathermouthwithalipstick,patteddownhercowlick,easedhershoulders,andturned.“HowdoIlook?”shesaid.“I’veneverseenyou
completelydressedinyourlife.Whereisyourhat?”
“Aunty,youknowgoodandwellifIwalkedinchurchtodaywithahatonthey’dthinksomebodywasdead.”Theonetimesheworea
hatwastoJem’sfuneral.Shedidn’tknowwhyshedidit,butbeforethefuneralshemadeMr.Ginsbergopenhisstoreforherandshepickedoneoutandclappeditonherhead,fullyawarethatJemwouldhavelaughedhadhebeenabletoseeher,but
somehowitmadeherfeelbetter.HerUncleJackwas
standingonthechurchstepswhentheyarrived.Dr.JohnHaleFinchwas
notallerthanhisniece,whowasfiveseven.Hisfatherhadgivenhimahigh-bridgednose,asternnetherlip,andhighcheekbones.HelookedlikehissisterAlexandra,buttheirphysicalresemblanceendedattheneck:Dr.Finch
wasspare,almostspidery;hissisterwasoffirmerproportions.HewasthereasonAtticusdidnotmarryuntilhewasforty—whenthetimecameforJohnHaleFinchtochooseaprofession,hechosemedicine.HechosetostudyitatatimewhencottonwasonecentapoundandtheFincheshadeverythingbutmoney.Atticus,notyetsecureinhisprofession,spentand
borrowedeverynickelhecouldfindtoputonhisbrother’seducation;induetimeitwasreturnedwithinterest.Dr.Finchbecameabone
man,practicedinNashville,playedthestockmarketwithshrewdness,andbythetimehewasforty-fivehehadaccumulatedenoughmoneytoretireanddevoteallhistimetohisfirstandabidinglove,Victorianliterature,a
pursuitthatinitselfearnedhimthereputationofbeingMaycombCounty’smostlearnedlicensedeccentric.Dr.Finchhaddrunkso
longandsodeepofhisheadybrewthathisbeingwasshotthroughwithcuriousmannerismsandoddexclamations.Hepunctuatedhisspeechwithlittle“hah”sand“hum”sandarchaicexpressions,ontopofwhichhispenchantformodern
slangteeteredprecariously.Hiswitwashatpinsharp;hewasabsentminded;hewasabachelorbutgavetheimpressionofharboringamusingmemories;hepossessedayellowcatnineteenyearsold;hewasincomprehensibletomostofMaycombCountybecausehisconversationwascoloredwithsubtleallusionstoVictorianobscurities.
Hegavestrangerstheideathathewasaborderlinecase,butthosewhoweretunedtohiswavelengthknewDr.Finchtobeofamindsosound,especiallywhenitcametomarketmanipulation,thathisfriendsoftenriskedlengthylecturesonthepoetryofMackworthPraedtoseekhisadvice.Fromlongandcloseassociation(inhersolitaryteensDr.Finchhadtriedtomakeascholarofher)
JeanLouisehaddevelopedenoughunderstandingofhissubjectstofollowhimmostofthetime,andshereveledinhisconversation.Whenhedidnothaveherinsilenthysterics,shewasbewitchedbyhisbear-trapmemoryandvastrestlessmind.“Goodmorning,daughter
ofNereus!”saidheruncle,ashekissedheronthecheek.OneofDr.Finch’sconcessionstothetwentieth
centurywasatelephone.Heheldhisnieceatarm’slengthandregardedherwithamusedinterest.“Homefornineteenhours
andyou’vealreadyindulgedyourpredilectionforablutionaryexcesses,hah!AclassicexampleofWatsonianBehaviorism—thinkI’llwriteyouupandsendyoutotheAMAJournal.”“Hush,youoldquack,”
whisperedJeanLouise
betweenclenchedteeth.“I’mcomingtoseeyouthisafternoon.”“YouandHankmollockin’
aroundintheriver—hah!—oughttobeashamedofyourselves—disgracetothefamily—havefun?”SundaySchoolwas
beginning,andDr.Finchbowedherinthedoor:“Yourguiltylover’swaitin’within,”hesaid.
JeanLouisegaveherunclealookwhichwitheredhimnotatallandmarchedintothechurchwithasmuchdignityasshecouldmuster.ShesmiledandgreetedtheMaycombMethodists,andinheroldclassroomshesettledherselfbythewindowandsleptwithhereyesopenthroughthelesson,aswashercustom.
7
THERE’SNOTHINGLIKEablood-curdlinghymntomakeyoufeelathome,thoughtJeanLouise.Anysenseofisolationshemayhavehadwitheredanddiedinthepresenceofsometwohundredsinnersearnestlyrequestingtobeplunged
beneathared,redeemingflood.WhileofferingtotheLordtheresultsofMr.Cowper’shallucination,ordeclaringitwasLovethatliftedher,JeanLouisesharedthewarmnessthatprevailsamongdiverseindividualswhofindthemselvesinthesameboatforonehoureachweek.Shewassittingbesideher
auntinthemiddlepewontherightsideoftheauditorium;
herfatherandDr.Finchsatsidebysideontheleft,thirdrowfromthefront.Whytheydiditwasamysterytoher,buttheyhadsattheretogethereversinceDr.FinchreturnedtoMaycomb.Nobodywouldtakethemforbrothers,shethought.It’shardtobelievehe’stenyearsolderthanUncleJack.AtticusFinchlookedlike
hismother;AlexandraandJohnHaleFinchlookedlike
theirfather.Atticuswasaheadtallerthanhisbrother,hisfacewasbroadandopenwithastraightnoseandwidethinmouth,butsomethingaboutthethreemarkedthemaskin.UncleJackandAtticusaregettingwhiteinthesameplacesandtheireyesarealike,thoughtJeanLouise:that’swhatitis.Shewascorrect.AlltheFincheshadstraightincisiveeyebrowsandheavy-lidded
eyes;whentheylookedslant-wise,up,orstraightahead,adisinterestedobserverwouldcatchaglimpseofwhatMaycombcalledFamilyResemblance.Hermeditationswere
interruptedbyHenryClinton.Hehadpassedonecollectionplatedownthepewbehindher,andwhilewaitingforitsmatetoreturnviatherowshewassittingon,hewinkedopenlyandsolemnlyather.
Alexandrasawhimandlookedbluemurder.Henryandhisfellowusherwalkedupthecenteraisleandstoodreverentlyinfrontofthealtar.Immediatelyafter
collection,MaycombMethodistssangwhattheycalledtheDoxologyinlieuoftheministerprayingoverthecollectionplatetosparehimtherigorsinvolvedininventingyetanotherprayer,
sincebythattimehehadutteredthreehealthyinvocations.FromthetimeofJeanLouise’searliestecclesiasticalrecollection,MaycombhadsungtheDoxologyinonewayandinonewayonly:
Praise—God—from—whom—all—blessings—flow,
arenditionasmuchatraditionofSouthernMethodismasPoundingthePreacher.ThatSunday,JeanLouiseandthecongregationwereinallinnocenceclearingtheirthroatstodragitaccordinglywhenoutofacloudlessskyMrs.ClydeHaskinscrasheddownontheorgan
PraiseGodfromwhomallBles—sings—Flo—w
PraiseHimallcreaturesHe—reBee—low
PraiseHimaboveyeHeav’n—lyHo—st
PraiseFatherSonandHo—lyGho—st!
Intheconfusionthatfollowed,iftheArchbishopofCanterburyhadmaterializedinfullregaliaJeanLouisewouldnothavebeenintheleastsurprised:thecongregationhadfailedto
noticeanychangeinMrs.Haskins’slifelonginterpretation,andtheyintonedtheDoxologytoitsbitterendastheyhadbeenrearedtodo,whileMrs.HaskinsrompedmadlyaheadlikesomethingoutofSalisburyCathedral.JeanLouise’sfirstthought
wasthatHerbertJemsonhadlosthismind.HerbertJemsonhadbeenmusicdirectoroftheMaycombMethodist
Churchforaslongasshecouldremember.Hewasabig,goodmanwithasoftbaritone,whoruledwitheasytactachoirofrepressedsoloists,andwhohadanunerringmemoryforthefavoritehymnsofDistrictSuperintendents.InthesundrychurchwarsthatwerealivingpartofMaycombMethodism,Herbertcouldbecountedonastheonepersontokeephishead,talksense,
andreconcilethemoreprimitiveelementsofthecongregationwiththeYoungTurkfaction.Hehaddevotedthirtyyears’sparetimetohischurch,andhischurchhadrecentlyrewardedhimwithatriptoaMethodistmusiccampinSouthCarolina.JeanLouise’ssecond
impulsewastoblameitontheminister.Hewasayoungman,aMr.Stonebyname,withwhatDr.Finchcalled
thegreatesttalentfordullnesshehadeverseeninamanonthenearsideoffifty.TherewasnothingwhateverwrongwithMr.Stone,exceptthathepossessedallthenecessaryqualificationsforacertifiedpublicaccountant:hedidnotlikepeople,hewasquickwithnumbers,hehadnosenseofhumor,andhewasbutt-headed.BecauseMaycomb’s
churchhadforyearsnotbeen
largeenoughforagoodministerbuttoobigforamediocreone,Maycombwasdelightedwhen,atthelastChurchConference,theauthoritiesdecidedtosenditsMethodistsanenergeticyoungone.ButafterlessthanayeartheyoungministerhadimpressedhiscongregationtoadegreethatmovedDr.FinchtoobserveabsentlyandaudiblyoneSunday:“We
askedforbreadandtheygaveusaStone.”Mr.Stonehadlongbeen
suspectedofliberaltendencies;hewastoofriendly,somethought,withhisYankeebrethren;hehadrecentlyemergedpartiallydamagedfromacontroversyovertheApostles’Creed;andworstofall,hewasthoughttobeambitious.JeanLouisewasbuildingupanairtightcaseagainsthimwhenshe
rememberedMr.Stonewastonedeaf.UnruffledbyHerbert
Jemson’sbreachofallegiance,becausehehadnotheardit,Mr.StoneroseandwalkedtothepulpitwithBibleinhand.Heopeneditandsaid,“Mytextfortodayistakenfromthetwenty-firstchapterofIsaiah,versesix:
ForthushaththeLordsaiduntome,
Go,setawatchman,lethimdeclarewhatheseeth.”
JeanLouisemadeasincereefforttolistentowhatMr.Stone’swatchmansaw,butinspiteofhereffortstoquellit,shefeltamusementturningintoindignantdispleasureandshestaredstraightatHerbertJemsonthroughouttheservice.Howdarehechangeit?Washetryingtoleadthem
backtotheMotherChurch?Hadsheallowedreasontorule,shewouldhaverealizedthatHerbertJemsonwasMethodistofthewholecloth:hewasnotoriouslyshortontheologyandamilelongongoodworks.TheDoxology’sgone,
they’llbehavingincensenext—orthodoxy’smydoxy.DidUncleJacksaythatorwasitoneofhisoldbishops?Shelookedacrosstheaisletoward
himandsawthesharpedgeofhisprofile:he’sinasnit,shethought.Mr.Stonedroned…a
Christiancanridhimselfofthefrustrationsofmodernlivingby…comingtoFamilyNighteveryWednesdayandbringingacovereddish…abidewithyounowandforevermore,Amen.Mr.Stonehadpronounced
thebenedictionandwason
hiswaytothefrontdoorwhenshewentdowntheaisletocornerHerbert,whohadremainedbehindtoshutthewindows.Dr.Finchwasfasteronthedraw:“—shouldn’tsingitlike
that,Herbert,”hewassaying.“WeareMethodistsafterall,D.V.”“Don’tlookatme,Dr.
Finch.”Herbertthrewuphishandsasiftowardoffwhateverwascoming.“It’s
thewaytheytoldustosingitatCampCharlesWesley.”“Youaren’tgoingtotake
somethinglikethatlyingdown,areyou?Whotoldyoutodothat?”Dr.Finchscreweduphisunderlipuntilitwasalmostinvisibleandreleaseditwithasnap.“Themusicinstructor.He
taughtacourseinwhatwaswrongwithSouthernchurchmusic.HewasfromNewJersey,”saidHerbert.
“Hedid,didhe?”“Yessir.”“What’dhesaywaswrong
withit?”Herbertsaid:“Hesaidwe
mightaswellbesinging‘StickyoursnoutunderthespoutwheretheGospelcomesout’asmostofthehymnswesing.SaidtheyoughttobanFannyCrosbybychurchlawandthatRockofAgeswasanabominationuntotheLord.”
“Indeed?”“Hesaidweoughttopep
uptheDoxology.”“Pepitup?How?”“Likewesangittoday.”Dr.Finchsatdowninthe
frontpew.Heslunghisarmacrossthebackandmovedhisfingersmeditatively.HelookedupatHerbert.“Apparently,”hesaid,
“apparentlyourbrethrenintheNorthlandarenotcontentmerelywiththeSupreme
Court’sactivities.Theyarenowtryingtochangeourhymnsonus.”Herbertsaid,“Hetoldus
weoughttogetridoftheSouthernhymnsandlearnsomeotherones.Idon’tlikeit—oneshethoughtwereprettydon’tevenhavetunes.”Dr.Finch’s“Hah!”was
crisperthanusual,asuresignthathistemperwasgoing.Heretrieveditsufficientlytosay,
“Southernhymns,Herbert?Southernhymns?”Dr.Finchputhishandson
hiskneesandstraightenedhisspinetoanuprightposition.“Now,Herbert,”hesaid,
“letussitquietlyinthissanctuaryandanalyzethiscalmly.IbelieveyourmanwishesustosingtheDoxologydownthelinewithnothinglessthantheChurchofEngland,yethereverseshimself—reverseshimself—
andwantstothrowout…AbidewithMe?”“Right.”“Lyte.”“Er—sir?”“Lyte,sir.Lyte.What
aboutWhenISurveytheWondrousCross?”“That’sanotherone,”said
Herbert.“Hegaveusalist.”“Gaveyoualist,didhe?I
supposeOnward,ChristianSoldiersisonit?”“Atthetop.”
“Hur!”saidDr.Finch.“H.F.Lyte,IsaacWatts,SabineBaring-Gould.”Dr.Finchrolledoutthelast
nameinMaycombCountyaccents:longa’s,i’s,andapausebetweensyllables.“EveryoneanEnglishman,
Herbert,goodandtrue,”hesaid.“Wantstothrowthemout,yettriestomakeussingtheDoxologylikewewereallinWestminsterAbbey,does
he?Well,letmetellyousomething—”JeanLouiselookedat
Herbert,whowasnoddingagreement,andatheruncle,whowaslookinglikeTheobaldPontifex.“—yourman’sasnob,
Herbert,andthat’safact.”“Hewassortofasissy,”
saidHerbert.“I’llbethewas.Areyou
goingalongwithallthisnonsense?”
“Heavensno,”saidHerbert.“IthoughtI’dtryitonce,justtomakesureofwhatI’dalreadyguessed.Congregation’llneverlearnit.Besides,Iliketheoldones.”“SodoI,Herbert,”saidDr.
Finch.HeroseandhookedhisarmthroughJeanLouise’s.“I’llseeyouthistimenextSunday,andifIfindthischurchrisenonefoot
offthegroundI’llholdyoupersonallyresponsible.”SomethinginDr.Finch’s
eyestoldHerbertthatthiswasajoke.Helaughedandsaid,“Don’tworry,sir.”Dr.Finchwalkedhisniece
tothecar,whereAtticusandAlexandrawerewaiting.“Wantalift?”shesaid.“Ofcoursenot,”saidDr.
Finch.ItwashishabittowalktoandfromchurcheverySunday,andthishedid,
undeterredbytempests,boilingsun,orfreezingweather.Asheturnedtogo,Jean
Louisecalledtohim.“UncleJack,”shesaid.“WhatdoesD.V.mean?”Dr.Finchsighedhisyou-
have-no-education-young-womansigh,raisedhiseyebrows,andsaid:“Deovolente.‘Godwillin’,’child.‘Godwillin’.’AreliableCatholicutterance.”
8
WITHTHESAMEsuddennessthatabarbarousboyyanksthelarvaofanantlionfromitsholetoleaveitstrugglinginthesun,JeanLouisewassnatchedfromherquietrealmandleftalonetoprotecthersensitiveepidermisasbestshecould,onahumidSunday
afternoonatprecisely2:28P.M.Thecircumstancesleadingtotheeventwerethese:Afterdinner,atwhichtime
JeanLouiseregaledherhouseholdwithDr.Finch’sobservationsonstylishhymn-singing,AtticussatinhiscornerofthelivingroomreadingtheSundaypapers,andJeanLouisewaslookingforwardtoanafternoon’shilaritywithheruncle,
completewithteacakesandthestrongestcoffeeinMaycomb.Thedoorbellrang.She
heardAtticuscall,“Comein!”andHenry’svoiceanswerhim,“Ready,Mr.Finch?”Shethrewdownthe
dishtowel;beforeshecouldleavethekitchenHenrystuckhisheadinthedoorandsaid,“Hey.”
Alexandrapinnedhimtothewallinnotimeflat:“HenryClinton,yououghttobeashamedofyourself.”Henry,whosecharmswere
notinconsiderable,turnedthemfullforceonAlexandra,whoshowednosignsofmelting.“Now,MissAlexandra,”hesaid.“Youcan’tstaymadwithuslongevenifyoutry.”Alexandrasaid,“Igotyou
twooutofitthistime,butI
maynotbearoundnexttime.”“MissAlexandra,we
appreciatethatmorethananything.”HeturnedtoJeanLouise.“Seven-thirtytonightandnoLanding.We’llgototheshow.”“Okay.Where’reyouall
going?”“Courthouse.Meeting.”“OnSunday?”“Yep.”
“That’sright,Ikeepforgettingallthepoliticking’sdoneonSundayintheseparts.”AtticuscalledforHenryto
comeon.“Bye,baby,”hesaid.JeanLouisefollowedhim
intothelivingroom.WhenthefrontdoorslammedbehindherfatherandHenry,shewenttoherfather’schairtotidyupthepapershehadleftonthefloorbesideit.She
pickedthemup,arrangedtheminsectionalorder,andputthemonthesofainaneatpile.Shecrossedtheroomagaintostraightenthestackofbooksonhislamptable,andwasdoingsowhenapamphletthesizeofabusinessenvelopecaughthereye.Onitscoverwasadrawing
ofananthropophagousNegro;abovethedrawingwasprintedTheBlack
Plague.Itsauthorwassomebodywithseveralacademicdegreesafterhisname.Sheopenedthepamphlet,satdowninherfather’schair,andbeganreading.Whenshehadfinished,shetookthepamphletbyoneofitscorners,helditlikeshewouldholdadeadratbythetail,andwalkedintothekitchen.Sheheldthepamphletinfrontofheraunt.
“Whatisthisthing?”shesaid.Alexandralookedoverher
glassesatit.“Somethingofyourfather’s.”JeanLouisesteppedonthe
garbagecantriggerandthrewthepamphletin.“Don’tdothat,”said
Alexandra.“They’rehardtocomebythesedays.”JeanLouiseopenedher
mouth,shutit,andopeneditagain.“Aunty,haveyouread
thatthing?Doyouknowwhat’sinit?”“Certainly.”IfAlexandrahadutteredan
obscenityinherface,JeanLouisewouldhavebeenlesssurprised.“You—Aunty,doyou
knowthestuffinthatthingmakesDr.Goebbelslooklikeanaivelittlecountryboy?”“Idon’tknowwhatyou’re
talkingabout,JeanLouise.
Therearealotoftruthsinthatbook.”“Yesindeedy,”saidJean
Louisewryly.“IespeciallylikedthepartwheretheNegroes,blesstheirhearts,couldn’thelpbeinginferiortothewhiteracebecausetheirskullsarethickerandtheirbrain-pansshallower—whateverthatmeans—sowemustallbeverykindtothemandnotletthemdoanythingtohurtthemselvesandkeep
themintheirplaces.GoodGod,Aunty—”Alexandrawasramrod
straight.“Well?”shesaid.JeanLouisesaid,“It’sjust
thatIneverknewyouwentinforsalaciousreadingmaterial,Aunty.”Herauntwassilent,and
JeanLouisecontinued:“Iwasrealimpressedwiththeparablewheresincethedawnofhistorytherulersoftheworldhavealwaysbeen
white,exceptGenghisKhanorsomebody—theauthorwasrealfairaboutthat—andhemadeakillin’pointabouteventhePharaohswerewhiteandtheirsubjectswereeitherblackorJews—”“That’strue,isn’tit?”“Sure,butwhat’sthatgot
todowiththecase?”WhenJeanLouisefelt
apprehensive,expectant,oronedge,especiallywhenconfrontingheraunt,her
brainclickedtothemeterofGilbertiantomfoolery.Threesprightlyfigureswhirledmadlyinherhead—hoursfilledwithUncleJackandDilldancingtopreposterousmeasuresblackedoutthecomingoftomorrowwithtomorrow’stroubles.Alexandrawastalkingto
her:“Itoldyou.It’ssomethingyourfatherbroughthomefromacitizens’councilmeeting.”
“Fromawhat?”“FromtheMaycomb
CountyCitizens’Council.Didn’tyouknowwehaveone?”“Ididnot.”“Well,yourfather’sonthe
boardofdirectorsandHenry’soneofthestaunchestmembers.”Alexandrasighed.“Notthatwereallyneedone.Nothing’shappenedhereinMaycombyet,butit’salways
wisetobeprepared.That’swheretheyarethisminute.”“Citizens’council?In
Maycomb?”JeanLouiseheardherselfrepeatingfatuously.“Atticus?”Alexandrasaid,“Jean
Louise,Idon’tthinkyoufullyrealizewhat’sbeengoingondownhere—”JeanLouiseturnedonher
heel,walkedtothefrontdoor,outofit,acrossthebroadfrontyard,downthestreet
towardtownasfastasshecouldgo,Alexandra’s“youaren’tgoingtotownLikeThat”echoingbehindher.Shehadforgottenthattherewasacaringoodrunningconditioninthegarage,thatitskeyswereonthehalltable.Shewalkedswiftly,keepingtimetotheabsurdjinglerunningthroughherhead.
Here’sahow-de-do!
IfImarryyou,Whenyourtimehascometoperish
Thenthemaidenwhomyoucherish
Mustbeslaughtered,too!Here’sahow-de-do!
WhatwereHankandAtticusupto?Whatwasgoingon?Shedidnotknow,butbeforethesunwentdownshewouldfindout.
Ithadsomethingtodowiththatpamphletshefoundinthehouse—sittingtherebeforeGodandeverybody—somethingtodowithcitizens’councils.Sheknewaboutthem,allright.NewYorkpapersfullofit.Shewishedshehadpaidmoreattentiontothem,butonlyoneglancedownacolumnofprintwasenoughtotellherafamiliarstory:samepeoplewhoweretheInvisible
Empire,whohatedCatholics;ignorant,fear-ridden,red-faced,boorish,law-abiding,onehundredpercentred-bloodedAnglo-Saxons,herfellowAmericans—trash.AtticusandHankwere
pullingsomething,theyweretheremerelytokeepaneyeonthings—AuntysaidAtticuswasontheboardofdirectors.Shewaswrong.Itwasallamistake;Auntygot
mixeduponherfactssometimes….Sheslowedupwhenshe
cametothetown.Itwasdeserted;onlytwocarswereinfrontofthedrugstore.Theoldcourthousestoodwhiteintheafternoonglare.Ablackhoundlopeddownthestreetinthedistance,themonkeypuzzlesbristledsilentlyonthecornersofthesquare.Whenshewenttothenorth
sideentranceshesawempty
carsstandinginadoublerowthelengthofthebuilding.Whenshewentupthe
courthousestepsshemissedtheelderlymenwholoiteredthere,shemissedthewatercoolerthatstoodinsidethedoor,missedthecane-bottomchairsinthehallway;shedidnotmissthedankurine-sweetodorofsunlesscountycubbyholes.Shewalkedpasttheofficesofthetaxcollector,taxassessor,county
clerk,registrar,judgeofprobate,upoldunpaintedstairstothecourtroomfloor,upasmallcoveredstairwaytotheColoredbalcony,walkedoutintoit,andtookheroldplaceinthecornerofthefrontrow,wheresheandherbrotherhadsatwhentheywenttocourttowatchtheirfather.Belowher,onrough
benches,satnotonlymostofthetrashinMaycomb
County,butthecounty’smostrespectablemen.Shelookedtowardthefar
endoftheroom,andbehindtherailingthatseparatedcourtfromspectators,atalongtable,satherfather,HenryClinton,severalmensheknewonlytoowell,andamanshedidnotknow.Attheendofthetable,
sittinglikeagreatdropsicalgrayslug,wasWilliamWilloughby,thepolitical
symbolofeverythingherfatherandmenlikehimdespised.He’sthelastofhiskind,shethought.Atticus’dscarcelygivehimthetimeofday,andthereheisatthesame…WilliamWilloughbywas
indeedthelastofhiskind,forawhile,atleast.Hewasbleedingslowlytodeathinthemidstofabundance,forhislife’sbloodwaspoverty.EverycountyintheDeep
SouthhadaWilloughby,eachsoliketheotherthattheyconstitutedacategorycalledHe,theGreatBigMan,theLittleMan,allowingforminorterritorialdifferences.He,orwhateverhissubjectscalledhim,occupiedtheleadingadministrativeofficeinhiscounty—usuallyhewassherifforjudgeorprobate—butthereweremutations,likeMaycomb’sWilloughby,whochosetogracenopublic
office.Willoughbywasrare—hispreferencetoremainbehindthescenesimpliedtheabsenceofvastpersonalconceit,atraitessentialfortwo-pennydespots.Willoughbychosetorun
thecountynotinitsmostcomfortableoffice,butinwhatwasbestdescribedasahutch—asmall,dark,evil-smellingroomwithhisnameonthedoor,containingnothingmorethana
telephone,akitchentable,andunpaintedcaptain’schairsofrichpatina.WhereverWilloughbywent,therefollowedaxiomaticallyacoterieofpassive,mostlynegativecharactersknownastheCourthouseCrowd,specimensWilloughbyhadputintothevariouscountyandmunicipalofficestodoastheyweretold.Sittingatthetableby
Willoughbywasoneofthem,
Tom-CarlJoyner,hisright-handmanandjustlyproud:wasn’theinwithWilloughbyfromthebeginning?DidhenotdoallofWilloughby’slegwork?Didhenot,intheolddaysduringtheDepression,knockontenant-cabindoorsatmidnight,didhenotdrumitintotheheadofeveryignoranthungrywretchwhoacceptedpublicassistance,whetherjoborreliefmoney,thathisvote
wasWilloughby’s?Novotee,noeatee.Likehislessersatellites,overtheyearsTom-Carlhadassumedanill-fittingairofrespectabilityanddidnotcaretoberemindedofhisnefariousbeginnings.Tom-CarlsatthatSundaysecureintheknowledgethatthesmallempirehehadlostsomuchsleepbuildingwouldbehiswhenWilloughbylostinterestordied.NothinginTom-
Carl’sfaceindicatedthathemighthavearudesurprisecomingtohim:already,prosperity-bredindependencehadunderminedhiskingdomuntilitwasfoundering;twomoreelectionsanditwouldcrumbleintothesismaterialforasociologymajor.JeanLouisewatchedhisself-importantlittlefaceandalmostlaughedwhenshereflectedthattheSouthwasindeedpitilesstorewardits
publicservantswithextinction.Shelookeddownonrows
offamiliarheads—whitehair,brownhair,haircarefullycombedtohidenohair—andsherememberedhow,longagowhencourtwasdull,shewouldquietlyaimspitballsattheshiningdomesbelow.JudgeTaylorcaughtheratitonedayandthreatenedherwithabenchwarrant.
Thecourthouseclockcreaked,strained,said,“Phlugh!”andstruckthehour.Two.Whenthesoundshiveredawayshesawherfatherriseandaddresstheassemblyinhisdrycourtroomvoice:“Gentlemen,ourspeaker
fortodayisMr.GradyO’Hanlon.Heneedsnointroduction.Mr.O’Hanlon.”Mr.O’Hanlonroseand
said,“Asthecowsaidtothe
milkmanonacoldmorning,‘Thankyouforthewarmhand.’”Shehadneverseenor
heardofMr.O’Hanloninherlife.Fromthegistofhisintroductoryremarks,however,Mr.O’Hanlonmadeplaintoherwhohewas—hewasanordinary,God-fearingmanjustlikeanyordinaryman,whohadquithisjobtodevotehisfulltimetothepreservationofsegregation.
Well,somepeoplehavestrangefancies,shethought.Mr.O’Hanlonhadlight-
brownhair,blueeyes,amulishface,ashockingnecktie,andnocoat.Heunbuttonedhiscollar,untiedhistie,blinkedhiseyes,ranhishandthroughhishair,andgotdowntobusiness:Mr.O’Hanlonwasborn
andbredintheSouth,wenttoschoolthere,marriedaSouthernlady,livedallhis
lifethere,andhismaininteresttodaywastoupholdtheSouthernWayofLifeandnoniggersandnoSupremeCourtwasgoingtotellhimoranybodyelsewhattodo…araceashammer-headedas…essentialinferiority…kinkywoollyheads…stillinthetrees…greasysmelly…marryyourdaughters…mongrelizetherace…mongrelize…mongrelize…savetheSouth…Black
Monday…lowerthancockroaches…Godmadetheraces…nobodyknowswhybutHeintendedfor’emtostayapart…ifHehadn’tHe’d’vemadeusallonecolor…backtoAfrica…Sheheardherfather’s
voice,atinyvoicetalkinginthewarmcomfortablepast.Gentlemen,ifthere’sonesloganinthisworldIbelieve,itisthis:equalrightsforall,specialprivilegesfornone.
Thesetop-waterniggerpreachers…likeapes…mouthslikeNumber2cans…twisttheGospel…thecourtpreferstolistentoCommunists…take’emalloutandshoot’emfortreason…AgainstMr.O’Hanlon’s
hummingharangue,amemorywasrisingtodisputehim:thecourtroomshiftedimperceptibly,initshelookeddownonthesame
heads.Whenshelookedacrosstheroomajurysatinthebox,JudgeTaylorwasonthebench,hispilotfishsatbelowinfrontofhimwritingsteadily;herfatherwasonhisfeet:hehadrisenfromatableatwhichshecouldseethebackofakinkywoollyhead….AtticusFinchrarelytooka
criminalcase;hehadnotasteforcriminallaw.Theonlyreasonhetookthisonewas
becauseheknewhisclienttobeinnocentofthecharge,andhecouldnotforthelifeofhimlettheblackboygotoprisonbecauseofahalf-hearted,court-appointeddefense.TheboyhadcometohimbywayofCalpurnia,toldhimhisstory,andhadtoldhimthetruth.Thetruthwasugly.Atticustookhiscareerin
hishands,madegooduseofacarelessindictment,tookhis
standbeforeajury,andaccomplishedwhatwasneverbeforeorafterwardsdoneinMaycombCounty:hewonanacquittalforacoloredboyonarapecharge.Thechiefwitnessfortheprosecutionwasawhitegirl.Atticushadtwoweighty
advantages:althoughthewhitegirlwasfourteenyearsofagethedefendantwasnotindictedforstatutoryrape,thereforeAtticuscouldand
didproveconsent.Consentwaseasiertoprovethanundernormalconditions—thedefendanthadonlyonearm.Theotherwaschoppedoffinasawmillaccident.Atticuspursuedthecaseto
itsconclusionwitheverysparkofhisabilityandwithaninstinctivedistastesobitteronlyhisknowledgethathecouldlivepeacefullywithhimselfwasabletowashitaway.Aftertheverdict,he
walkedoutofthecourtroominthemiddleoftheday,walkedhome,andtookasteamingbath.Henevercountedwhatitcosthim;heneverlookedback.Heneverknewtwopairsofeyeslikehisownwerewatchinghimfromthebalcony.…notthequestionof
whethersnot-nosedniggerswillgotoschoolwithyourchildrenorridethefrontofthebus…it’swhether
ChristiancivilizationwillcontinuetobeorwhetherwewillbeslavesoftheCommunists…niggerlawyers…stompedontheConstitution…ourJewishfriends…killedJesus…votedthenigger…ourgranddaddies…niggerjudgesandsheriffs…separateisequal…ninety-fivepercentofthetaxmoney…fortheniggerandtheoldhounddog…followingthe
goldencalf…preachtheGospel…oldladyRoosevelt…nigger-lover…entertainsforty-fiveniggersbutnotonefreshwhiteSouthernvirgin…HueyLong,thatChristiangentleman…blackasburntlight’udknots…bribedtheSupremeCourt…decentwhiteChristians…wasJesuscrucifiedforthenigger…JeanLouise’shandslipped.
Sheremoveditfromthebalconyrailingandlookedat
it.Itwasdrippingwet.Awetplaceontherailingmirroredthinlightcomingthroughtheupperwindows.ShestaredatherfathersittingtotherightofMr.O’Hanlon,andshedidnotbelievewhatshesaw.ShestaredatHenrysittingtotheleftofMr.O’Hanlon,andshedidnotbelievewhatshesaw……buttheyweresittingall
overthecourtroom.Menofsubstanceandcharacter,
responsiblemen,goodmen.Menofallvarietiesandreputations…itseemedthattheonlymaninthecountynotpresentwasUncleJack.UncleJack—shewassupposedtogoseehimsometime.When?Sheknewlittleofthe
affairsofmen,butsheknewthatherfather’spresenceatthetablewithamanwhospewedfilthfromhismouth
—didthatmakeitlessfilthy?No.Itcondoned.Shefeltsick.Herstomach
shut,shebegantotremble.Hank.Everynerveinherbody
shrieked,thendied.Shewasnumb.Shepulledherselftoher
feetclumsily,andstumbledfromthebalconydownthecoveredstaircase.Shedidnothearherfeetscrapingdownthebroadstairs,orthe
courthouseclocklaboriouslystriketwo-thirty;shedidnotfeelthedankairofthefirstfloor.Theglaringsunpiercedher
eyeswithpain,andsheputherhandstoherface.Whenshetookthemdownslowlytoadjusthereyesfromdarktolight,shesawMaycombwithnopeopleinit,shimmeringinthesteamingafternoon.Shewalkeddownthesteps
andintotheshadeofalive
oak.Sheputherarmoutandleanedagainstthetrunk.ShelookedatMaycomb,andherthroattightened:Maycombwaslookingbackather.Goaway,theoldbuildings
said.Thereisnoplaceforyouhere.Youarenotwanted.Wehavesecrets.Inobediencetothem,in
thesilentheatshewalkeddownMaycomb’smainthoroughfare,ahighwayleadingtoMontgomery.She
walkedon,pasthouseswithwidefrontyardsinwhichmovedgreen-thumbedladiesandslowlargemen.ShethoughtsheheardMrs.WheeleryellingtoMissMaudieAtkinsonacrossthestreet,andifMissMaudiesawhershewouldsaycomeinandhavesomecake,I’vejustmadeabigonefortheDoctorandalittleoneforyou.Shecountedthecracksinthesidewalk,steeled
herselfforMrs.HenryLafayetteDubose’sonslaught—Don’tyousayheytome,JeanLouiseFinch,yousaygoodafternoon!—hurriedbytheoldsteep-roofedhouse,pastMissRachel’s,andfoundherselfhome.
HOME-MADEICECREAM.Sheblinkedhard.I’m
losingmymind,shethought.Shetriedtowalkonbutit
wastoolate.Thesquare,squat,modernicecreamshop
whereheroldhomehadbeenwasopen,andamanwaspeeringoutthewindowather.Sheduginthepocketsofherslacksandcameupwithaquarter.“CouldIhaveaconeof
vanilla,please?”“Don’tcomeinconesno
more.Icangiveyoua—”“That’sallright.Giveme
whateveritcomesin,”shesaidtotheman.
“JeanLouiseFinch,ain’tcha?”hesaid.“Yes.”“Usedtoliverighthere,
didn’tcha?”“Yes.”“Matteroffact,bornhere,
weren’tcha?”“Yes.”“Beenlivin’inNewYork,
haven’tcha?”“Yes.”“Maycomb’schanged,
ain’tit?”
“Yes.”“Don’trememberwhoI
am,doyou?”“No.”“WellIain’tgonnatell
you.YoucanjustsitthereandeatyouricecreamandtrytofigureoutwhoIam,andifyoucanI’llgiveyouanotherhelpin’freeofcharge.”“Thankyousir,”shesaid.
“DoyoumindifIgoaroundintheback—”
“Sure.There’stablesandchairsoutintheback.Folkssetoutthereatnightandeattheiricecream.”Thebackyardwasstrewn
overwithwhitegravel.Howsmallitlookswithnohouse,nocarhouse,nochinaberrytrees,shethought.Shesatdownatatableandputthecontaineroficecreamonit.I’vegottothink.Ithappenedsoquicklythat
herstomachwasstillheaving.
Shebreatheddeeplytoquietenit,butitwouldnotstaystill.Shefeltherselfturninggreenwithnausea,andsheputherheaddown;tryasshemightshecouldnotthink,sheonlyknew,andwhatsheknewwasthis:Theonehumanbeingshe
hadeverfullyandwholeheartedlytrustedhadfailedher;theonlymanshehadeverknowntowhomshecouldpointandsaywith
expertknowledge,“Heisagentleman,inhisheartheisagentleman,”hadbetrayedher,publicly,grossly,andshamelessly.
9
INTEGRITY,HUMOR,ANDpatiencewerethethreewordsforAtticusFinch.Therewasalsoaphraseforhim:pickatrandomanycitizenfromMaycombCountyanditsenvirons,askhimwhathethoughtofAtticusFinch,andtheanswerwouldmostlikely
be,“Ineverhadabetterfriend.”AtticusFinch’ssecretof
livingwassosimpleitwasdeeplycomplex:wheremostmenhadcodesandtriedtoliveuptothem,Atticuslivedhistotheletterwithnofuss,nofanfare,andnosoul-searching.Hisprivatecharacterwashispubliccharacter.HiscodewassimpleNewTestamentethic,itsrewardsweretherespect
anddevotionofallwhoknewhim.Evenhisenemieslovedhim,becauseAtticusneveracknowledgedthattheywerehisenemies.Hewasneverarichman,buthewastherichestmanhischildreneverknew.Hischildrenwereina
positiontoknowaschildrenseldomare:whenAtticuswasinthelegislaturehemet,loved,andmarriedaMontgomerygirlsomefifteen
yearshisjunior;hebroughtherhometoMaycombandtheylivedinanew-boughthouseonthetown’smainstreet.WhenAtticuswasforty-twotheirsonwasborn,andtheynamedhimJeremyAtticus,forhisfatherandhisfather’sfather.Fouryearslatertheirdaughterwasborn,andtheynamedherJeanLouiseforhermotherandhermother’smother.TwoyearsafterthatAtticuscamehome
fromworkoneeveningandfoundhiswifeonthefloorofthefrontporchdead,cutofffromviewbythewisteriavinethatmadethecorneroftheporchacoolprivateretreat.Shehadnotbeendeadlong;thechairfromwhichshehadfallenwasstillrocking.JeanGrahamFinchhadbroughttothefamilytheheartthatkilledhersontwenty-twoyearslateronthe
sidewalkinfrontofhisfather’soffice.Atforty-eight,Atticuswas
leftwithtwosmallchildrenandaNegrocooknamedCalpurnia.Itisdoubtfulthatheeversoughtformeanings;hemerelyrearedhischildrenasbesthecould,andintermsoftheaffectionhischildrenfeltforhim,hisbestwasindeedgood:hewasnevertootiredtoplayKeep-Away;hewasnevertoobusyto
inventmarvelousstories;hewasnevertooabsorbedinhisownproblemstolistenearnestlytoataleofwoe;everynighthereadaloudtothemuntilhisvoicecracked.Atticuskilledseveralbirds
withonestonewhenhereadtohischildren,andwouldprobablyhavecausedachildpsychologistconsiderabledismay:hereadtoJemandJeanLouisewhateverhehappenedtobereading,and
thechildrengrewuppossessedofanobscureerudition.Theycuttheirbackteethonmilitaryhistory,BillstoBeEnactedintoLaws,TrueDetectiveMysteries,TheCodeofAlabama,theBible,andPalgrave’sGoldenTreasury.WhereverAtticuswent,
JemandJeanLouisewouldmostofthetimefollow.HetookthemtoMontgomerywithhimifthelegislature
wasinsummersession;hetookthemtofootballgames,topoliticalmeetings,tochurch,totheofficeatnightifhehadtoworklate.Afterthesunwentdown,Atticuswasseldomseeninpublicwithouthischildrenintow.JeanLouisehadnever
knownhermother,andsheneverknewwhatamotherwas,butsherarelyfelttheneedofone.Inherchildhoodherfatherhadnever
misinterpretedher,norbobbledonce,exceptwhenshewaselevenandcamehometodinnerfromschoolonedayandfoundthatherbloodhadbeguntoflow.Shethoughtshewasdying
andshebegantoscream.CalpurniaandAtticusandJemcamerunning,andwhentheysawherplight,AtticusandJemlookedhelplesslyatCalpurnia,andCalpurniatookherinhand.
IthadneverfullyoccurredtoJeanLouisethatshewasagirl:herlifehadbeenoneofreckless,pummelingactivity;fighting,football,climbing,keepingupwithJem,andbestinganyoneherownageinanycontestrequiringphysicalprowess.Whenshewascalm
enoughtolisten,sheconsideredthatacruelpracticaljokehadbeenplayeduponher:shemust
nowgointoaworldoffemininity,aworldshedespised,couldnotcomprehendnordefendherselfagainst,aworldthatdidnotwanther.Jemleftherwhenhewas
sixteen.Hebeganslickingbackhishairwithwateranddatinggirls,andheronlyfriendwasAtticus.ThenDr.Finchcamehome.Thetwoagingmensawher
throughherloneliestand
mostdifficulthours,throughthemalignantlimboofturningfromahowlingtomboyintoayoungwoman.Atticustookherairriflefromherhandandputagolfclubinit,Dr.Finchtaughther—Dr.Finchtaughtherwhathewasmostinterestedin.Shegavelipservicetotheworld:shewentthroughthemotionsofcomplyingwiththeregulationsgoverningthebehaviorofteenagedgirls
fromgoodfamilies;shedevelopedahalfwayinterestinclothes,boys,hairdos,gossip,andfemaleaspirations;butshewasuneasyallthetimeshewasawayfromthesecurityofthosewhosheknewlovedher.Atticussenthertoa
women’scollegeinGeorgia;whenshefinishedhesaiditwashightimeshestartedshiftingforherselfandwhy
didn’tshegotoNewYorkorsomewhere.Shewasvaguelyinsultedandfeltshewasbeingturnedoutofherownhouse,butastheyearspassedsherecognizedthefullvalueofAtticus’swisdom;hewasgrowingoldandhewantedtodiesafeintheknowledgethathisdaughtercouldfendforherself.Shedidnotstandalone,
butwhatstoodbehindher,themostpotentmoralforcein
herlife,wastheloveofherfather.Sheneverquestionedit,neverthoughtaboutit,neverevenrealizedthatbeforeshemadeanydecisionofimportancethereflex,“WhatwouldAtticusdo?”passedthroughherunconscious;sheneverrealizedwhatmadeherdiginherfeetandstandfirmwhenevershedidwasherfather;thatwhateverwasdecentandofgoodreportin
hercharacterwasputtherebyherfather;shedidnotknowthatsheworshipedhim.Allsheknewwasthatshe
feltsorryforthepeopleheragewhorailedagainsttheirparentsfornotgivingthemthisandcheatingthemoutofthat.Shefeltsorryformiddle-agedmatronswhoaftermuchanalysisdiscoveredthattheseatoftheiranxietywasintheirseats;shefeltsorryfor
personswhocalledtheirfathersMyOldMan,denotingthattheywereraffish,probablyboozyineffectivecreatureswhohaddisappointedtheirchildrendreadfullyandunforgivablysomewherealongtheline.Shewasextravagantwith
herpity,andcomplacentinhersnugworld.
10
JEANLOUISEGOTupfromtheyardchairshewassittingin,walkedtothecornerofthelot,andvomitedupherSundaydinner.Herfingerscaughtthestrandsofawirefence,thefencethatseparatedMissRachel’sgardenfromtheFinchbackyard.IfDill
wereherehewouldleapoverthefencetoher,bringherheaddowntohis,kissher,andholdherhand,andtogethertheywouldtaketheirstandwhentherewastroubleinthehouse.ButDillhadlongsincegonefromher.Hernauseareturnedwith
redoubledviolencewhensherememberedthesceneinthecourthouse,butshehadnothinglefttopartwith.
Ifyouhadonlyspatinmyface…Itcouldbe,mightbe,still
was,ahorriblemistake.Hermindrefusedtoregisterwhathereyesandearstoldit.Shereturnedtoherchairandsatstaringatapoolofmeltedvanillaicecreamworkingitswayslowlytotheedgeofthetable.Itspread,paused,dribbledanddripped.Drip,drip,drip,intothewhitegraveluntil,saturated,it
couldnolongerreceiveandasecondtinypoolappeared.Youdidthat.Youdiditas
sureasyouweresittingthere.“Guessedmynameyet?
Whylookayonder,you’vewastedyouricecream.”Sheraisedherhead.The
manintheshopwasleaningoutthebackwindow,lessthanfivefeetfromher.Hewithdrewandreappearedwithalimprag.Ashewiped
themessawayhesaid,“What’smyname?”Rumpelstiltskin.“Oh,Iamsorry.”She
lookedatthemancarefully.“Areyouoneofthecee-ohConinghams?”Themangrinnedbroadly.
“Almost.I’moneofthecee-you’s.How’dyouknow?”“Familyresemblance.
Whatgotyououtofthewoods?”
“MammaleftmesometimberandIsoldit.Putupthisshophere.”“Whattimeisit?”she
asked.“Gettin’ontofour-thirty,”
saidMr.Cunningham.Sherose,smiledgoodbye,
andsaidshewouldbecomingbacksoon.Shemadeherwaytothesidewalk.TwosolidhoursandIdidn’tknowwhereIwas.Iamsotired.
Shedidnotreturnbytown.Shewalkedthelongwayround,throughaschoolyard,downastreetlinedwithpecantrees,acrossanotherschoolyard,acrossafootballfieldonwhichJeminadazehadoncetackledhisownman.Iamsotired.Alexandrawasstandingin
thedoorway.ShesteppedasidetoletJeanLouisepass.“Wherehaveyoubeen?”shesaid.“Jackcalledagesago
andaskedafteryou.HaveyoubeenvisitingoutofthefamilyLikeThat?”“I—Idon’tknow.”“Whatdoyoumeanyou
don’tknow?JeanLouise,talksomesenseandgophoneyouruncle.”Shewentwearilytothe
telephoneandsaid,“Oneonenine.”Dr.Finch’svoicesaid,“Dr.Finch.”Shesaidsoftly,“I’msorry.Seeyou
tomorrow?”Dr.Finchsaid,“Right.”Shewastootiredtobe
amusedatheruncle’stelephonemanners:heviewedsuchinstrumentswithdeepangerandhisconversationsweremonosyllabicatbest.Whensheturnedaround
Alexandrasaid,“Youlookrightpuny.What’sthematter?”
Madam,myfatherhasleftmefloppinglikeaflounderatlowtideandyousaywhat’sthematter.“Stomach,”shesaid.“There’salotofthatgoing
aroundnow.Doesithurt?”Yesithurts.Likehell.It
hurtssomuchIcan’tstandit.“Noma’am,justupset.”“Thenwhydon’tyoutake
anAlka-Seltzer?”JeanLouisesaidshe
would,andthedaydawned
forAlexandra:“JeanLouise,didyougotothatmeetingwithallthosementhere?”“Yes’m.”“LikeThat?”“Yes’m.”“Wheredidyousit?”“Inthebalcony.They
didn’tseeme.Iwatchedfromthebalcony.Aunty,whenHankcomestonighttellhimI’m…indisposed.”“Indisposed?”
Shecouldnotstandthereanotherminute.“Yes,Aunty.I’mgonnadowhateveryChristianyoungwhitefreshSouthernvirgindoeswhenshe’sindisposed.”“Andwhatmightthatbe?”“I’mtakin’tomybed.”JeanLouisewenttoher
room,shutthedoor,unbuttonedherblouse,unzippedtheflyofherslacks,andfellacrosshermother’slacywrought-ironbed.She
gropedblindlyforapillowandpusheditunderherface.Inoneminuteshewasasleep.Hadshebeenabletothink,
JeanLouisemighthavepreventedeventstocomebyconsideringtheday’soccurrencesintermsofarecurringstoryasoldastime:thechapterwhichconcernedherbegantwohundredyearsagoandwasplayedoutinaproudsocietythebloodiestwarandharshestpeacein
modernhistorycouldnotdestroy,returning,tobeplayedoutagainonprivategroundinthetwilightofacivilizationnowarsandnopeacecouldsave.Hadsheinsight,couldshe
havepiercedthebarriersofherhighlyselective,insularworld,shemayhavediscoveredthatallherlifeshehadbeenwithavisualdefectwhichhadgoneunnoticedandneglectedbyherselfand
bythoseclosesttoher:shewasborncolorblind.
PARTIV
11
THEREWASAtime,longago,whentheonlypeacefulmomentsofherexistencewerethosefromthetimesheopenedhereyesinthemorninguntilsheattainedfullconsciousness,amatterofsecondsuntilwhenfinally
rousedsheenteredtheday’swakefulnightmare.Shewasinthesixthgrade,
agradememorableforthethingsshelearnedinclassandout.ThatyearthesmallgroupoftownchildrenwereswampedtemporarilybyacollectionofelderlypupilsshippedinfromOldSarumbecausesomebodyhadsetfiretotheschoolthere.TheoldestboyinMissBlunt’ssixthgradewasnearly
nineteen,andhehadthreecontemporaries.Therewereseveralgirlsofsixteen,voluptuous,happycreatureswhothoughtschoolsomethingofaholidayfromchoppingcottonandfeedinglivestock.MissBluntwasequaltothemall:shewasastallasthetallestboyintheclassandtwiceaswide.JeanLouisetooktotheOld
Sarumnewcomersimmediately.Afterholding
theclass’sundividedattentionbydeliberatelyintroducingGastonB.MeansintoadiscussiononthenaturalresourcesofSouthAfrica,andprovingheraccuracywitharubberbandgunduringrecess,sheenjoyedtheconfidenceoftheOldSarumcrowd.Withroughgentlenessthe
bigboystaughthertoshootcrapsandchewtobaccowithoutlosingit.Thebig
girlsgiggledbehindtheirhandsmostofthetimeandwhisperedamongthemselvesagreatdeal,butJeanLouiseconsideredthemusefulwhenchoosingsidesforavolleyballmatch.Allinall,itwasturningouttobeawonderfulyear.Wonderful,untilshewent
homefordinneroneday.Shedidnotreturntoschoolthatafternoon,butspenttheafternoononherbedcrying
withrageandtryingtounderstandtheterribleinformationshehadreceivedfromCalpurnia.Thenextdayshereturned
toschoolwalkingwithextremedignity,notprideful,butencumberedbyaccoutrementshithertounfamiliartoher.Shewaspositiveeverybodyknewwhatwasthematterwithher,thatshewasbeinglookedat,butshewaspuzzledthatshe
hadneverhearditspokenofbeforeinallheryears.Maybenobodyknowsanythingaboutit,shethought.Ifthatwasso,shehadnews,allright.Atrecess,whenGeorge
HillaskedhertobeItforHot-Grease-in-the-Kitchen,sheshookherhead.“Ican’tdoanythingany
more,”shesaid,andshesatonthestepsandwatchedtheboystumbleinthedust.“Ican’tevenwalk.”
Whenshecouldbearitnolonger,shejoinedtheknotofgirlsundertheliveoakinacorneroftheschoolyard.AdaBelleStevenslaughed
andmaderoomforheronthelongcementbench.“Whyain’tchaplayin’?”sheasked.“Don’twanta,”saidJean
Louise.AdaBelle’seyesnarrowed
andherwhitebrowstwitched.“IbetIknowwhat’sthematterwithyou.”
“What?”“You’vegottheCurse.”“Thewhat?”“TheCurse.Curseo’Eve.
IfEvehadn’tettheapplewewouldn’thaveit.Youfeelbad?”“No,”saidJeanLouise,
silentlycursingEve.“How’dyouknowit?”“Youwalklikeyouwas
ridin’abaymare,”saidAdaBelle.“You’llgetusedtoit.I’vehaditforyears.”
“I’llnevergetusedtoit.”Itwasdifficult.Whenher
activitieswerelimitedJeanLouiseconfinedherselftogamblingforsmallsumsbehindacoalpileintherearoftheschoolbuilding.Theinherentdangerousnessoftheenterpriseappealedtoherfarmorethanthegameitself;shewasnotgoodenoughatarithmetictocarewhethershewonorlost,therewasnorealjoyintryingtobeatthelaw
ofaverages,butshederivedsomepleasurefromdeceivingMissBlunt.HercompanionswerethelazieroftheOldSarumboys,thelaziestofwhomwasoneAlbertConingham,aslowthinkertowhomJeanLouisehadrenderedinvaluableserviceduringsix-weeks’tests.Oneday,asthetaking-in
bellrang,Albert,beatingcoaldustfromhisbreeches,said,“Waitaminute,JeanLouise.”
Shewaited.Whentheywerealone,Albertsaid,“IwantyoutoknowImadeaC-minusthistimeingeography.”“That’srealgood,Albert,”
shesaid.“Ijustwantedtothank
you.”“You’rewelcome,Albert.”Albertblushedtohis
hairline,caughthertohim,andkissedher.Shefelthiswet,warmtongueonherlips,
andshedrewback.Shehadneverbeenkissedlikethatbefore.Albertlethergoandshuffledtowardtheschoolbuilding.JeanLouisefollowed,bemusedandfaintlyannoyed.Sheonlysuffereda
kinsmantokissheronthecheekandthenshesecretlywipeditoff;Atticuskissedhervaguelywhereverhehappenedtoland;Jemkissedhernotatall.Shethought
Alberthadsomehowmiscalculated,andshesoonforgot.Astheyearpassed,often
asnotrecesswouldfindherwiththegirlsunderthetree,sittinginthemiddleofthecrowd,resignedtoherfate,butwatchingtheboysplaytheirseasonalgamesintheschoolyard.Onemorning,arrivinglatetothescene,shefoundthegirlsgigglingmoresurreptitiouslythanusualand
shedemandedtoknowthereason.“It’sFrancineOwen,”one
said.“FrancineOwen?She’s
beenabsentacoupleofdays,”saidJeanLouise.“Knowwhy?”saidAda
Belle.“Nope.”“It’shersister.The
welfare’sgot’emboth.”JeanLouisenudgedAda
Belle,whomaderoomforher
onthebench.“What’swrongwithher?”“She’spregnant,andyou
knowwhodidit?Herdaddy.”JeanLouisesaid,“What’s
pregnant?”Agroanwentupfromthe
circleofgirls.“Gonnahaveababy,stupid,”saidone.JeanLouiseassimilatedthe
definitionandsaid,“Butwhat’sherdaddygottodowithit?”
AdaBellesighed,“Herdaddy’sthedaddy.”JeanLouiselaughed.
“Comeon,AdaBelle—”“That’safact,JeanLouise.
BetchatheonlyreasonFrancineain’tissheain’tstartedyet.”“Startedwhat?”“Startedministratin’,”said
AdaBelleimpatiently.“Ibethediditwithbothof’em.”“Didwhat?”JeanLouise
wasnowtotallyconfused.
Thegirlsshrieked.AdaBellesaid,“Youdon’tknowonething,JeanLouiseFinch.Firstofallyou—thenifyoudoitafterthat,afteryoustart,thatis,you’llhaveasolidbaby.”“Dowhat,AdaBelle?”AdaBelleglancedupatthe
circleandwinked.“Well,firstofallittakesaboy.ThenhehugsyoutightandbreathesrealhardandthenheFrench-kissesyou.That’s
whenhekissesyouandopenshismouthandstickshistongueinyourmouth—”Aringingnoiseinherears
obliteratedAdaBelle’snarrative.Shefeltthebloodleaveherface.Herpalmsgrewsweatyandshetriedtoswallow.Shewouldnotleave.Ifshelefttheywouldknowit.Shestoodup,tryingtosmile,butherlipsweretrembling.Sheclampedher
mouthshutandclenchedherteeth.“—an’that’sallthereisto
it.What’sthematter,JeanLouise?You’rewhiteasahain’t.Ain’tscared’ja,haveI?”AdaBellesmirked.“No,”saidJeanLouise.“I
justdon’tfeelsohot.ThinkI’llgoinside.”Sheprayedtheywouldnot
seeherkneesshakingasshewalkedacrosstheschoolyard.Insidethegirls’bathroomshe
leanedoverawashbasinandvomited.Therewasnomistakingit,
Alberthadstuckouthistongueather.Shewaspregnant.
JEANLOUISE’SGLEANINGSofadultmoralsandmorestodatewerefew,butenough:itwaspossibletohaveababywithoutbeingmarried,sheknewthat.Untiltodaysheneitherknewnorcaredhow,
becausethesubjectwasuninteresting,butifsomeonehadababywithoutbeingmarried,herfamilywasplungedintodeepdisgrace.ShehadheardAlexandragoonatlengthaboutDisgracestoFamilies:disgraceinvolvedbeingsenttoMobileandshutupinaHomeawayfromdecentpeople.One’sfamilywasneverabletoholduptheirheadsagain.Somethinghadhappenedonce,downthe
streettowardMontgomery,andtheladiesattheotherendofthestreetwhisperedandcluckedaboutitforweeks.Shehatedherself,she
hatedeverybody.Shehaddonenobodyanyharm.Shewasoverwhelmedbytheunfairnessofit:shehadmeantnoharm.Shecreptawayfromthe
schoolbuilding,walkedaroundthecornertothehouse,sneakedtotheback
yard,climbedthechinaberrytree,andsatthereuntildinnertime.Dinnerwaslongandsilent.
ShewasbarelyconsciousofJemandAtticusatthetable.Afterdinnershereturnedtothetreeandsatthereuntiltwilight,whensheheardAtticuscallher.“Comedownfromthere,”
hesaid.Shewastoomiserabletoreacttotheiceinhisvoice.
“MissBluntcalledandsaidyouleftschoolatrecessanddidn’tcomeback.Wherewereyou?”“Upthetree.”“Areyousick?Youknow
ifyou’resickyou’retogostraighttoCal.”“Nosir.”“Thenifyouaren’tsick
whatfavorableconstructioncanyouputuponyourbehavior?Anyexcuseforit?”“Nosir.”
“Well,letmetellyousomething.IfthishappensagainitwillbeHailColumbia.”“Yessir.”Itwasonthetipofher
tonguetotellhim,toshiftherburdentohim,butshewassilent.“Yousureyou’refeeling
allright?”“Yessir.”“Thencomeoninthe
house.”
Atthesuppertable,shewantedtothrowherplatefullyloadedatJem,asuperiorfifteeninadultcommunicationwiththeirfather.FromtimetotimeJemwouldcastscornfulglancesather.I’llgetyouback,don’tyouworry,shepromisedhim.ButIcan’tnow.Everymorningshe
awakenedfullofcatlikeenergyandthebestintentions,everymorningthe
dulldreadreturned;everymorningshelookedforthebaby.Duringthedayitwasneverfarfromherimmediateconsciousness,intermittentlyreturningatunsuspectedmoments,whisperingandtauntingher.Shelookedunderbabyin
thedictionaryandfoundlittle;shelookedunderbirthandfoundless.ShecameuponanancientbookinthehousecalledDevils,Drugs,
andDoctorsandwasfrightenedtomutehysteriabypicturesofmedievallaborchairs,deliveryinstruments,andtheinformationthatwomenweresometimesthrownrepeatedlyagainstwallstoinducebirth.Graduallysheassembleddatafromherfriendsatschool,carefullyspacingherquestionsweeksapartsoasnottoarousesuspicion.
SheavoidedCalpurniaforaslongasshecould,becauseshethoughtCalhadliedtoher.Calhadtoldherallgirlshadit,itwasnaturalasbreathing,itwasasigntheyweregrowingup,andtheyhadituntiltheywereintheirfifties.Atthetime,JeanLouisewassoovercomewithdespairattheprospectofbeingtoooldtoenjoyanythingwhenitwouldfinallybeover,sherefrained
frompursuingthesubject.CalhadsaidnothingaboutbabiesandFrench-kissing.Eventuallyshesoundedout
CalpurniabywayoftheOwenfamily.Calsaidshedidn’twanttotalkaboutthatMr.Owenbecausehewasn’tfittoassociatewithhumans.Theyweregoingtokeephiminjailalongtime.Yes,Francine’ssisterhadbeensenttoMobile,poorlittlegirl.FrancinewasattheBaptist
Orphans’HomeinAbbottCounty.JeanLouisewasnottooccupyherheadthinkingaboutthosefolks.Calpurniawasbecomingfurious,andJeanLouiseletmattersrest.Whenshediscoveredthat
shehadninemonthstogobeforethebabycame,shefeltlikeareprievedcriminal.Shecountedtheweeksbymarkingthemoffonacalendar,butshefailedtotakeintoconsiderationthat
fourmonthshadpassedbeforeshebeganhercalculations.Asthetimedrewnearshespentherdaysinhelplesspaniclestshewakeupandfindababyinbedwithher.Theygrewinone’sstomach,ofthatshewassure.Theideahadbeeninthe
backofhermindforalongtime,butsherecoiledfromitinstinctively:thesuggestionofafinalseparationwas
unbearabletoher,butsheknewthatadaywouldcomewhentherewouldbenoputtingoff,noconcealment.AlthoughherrelationswithAtticusandJemhadreachedtheirlowestebb(“You’redownrightaddledthesedays,JeanLouise,”herfatherhadsaid.“Can’tyouconcentrateonanythingfiveminutes?”),thethoughtofanyexistencewithoutthem,nomatterhowniceheavenwas,was
untenable.ButbeingsenttoMobileandcausingherfamilytolivethereafterwithbowedheadswasworse:shedidn’tevenwishthatonAlexandra.Accordingtoher
calculations,thebabywouldcomewithOctober,andonthethirtiethdayofSeptembershewouldkillherself.
AUTUMNCOMESLATEinAlabama.OnHalloween,
even,onemayhideporchchairsunencumberedbyone’sheavycoat.Twilightsarelong,butdarknesscomessuddenly;theskyturnsfromdullorangetoblue-blackbeforeonecantakefivesteps,andwiththelightgoesthelastrayoftheday’sheat,leavinglivingroomweather.Autumnwasherhappiest
season.Therewasanexpectancyaboutitssoundsandshapes:thedistantthunk
pompofleatherandyoungbodiesonthepracticefieldnearherhousemadeherthinkofbandsandcoldCoca-Colas,parchedpeanutsandthesightofpeople’sbreathintheair.Therewasevensomethingtolookforwardtowhenschoolstarted—renewalsofoldfeudsandfriendships,weeksoflearningagainwhatonehalfforgotinthelongsummer.Fallwashot-suppertimewith
everythingtoeatonemissedinthemorningwhentoosleepytoenjoyit.Herworldwasatitsbestwhenhertimecametoleaveit.Shewasnowtwelveandin
theseventhgrade.Hercapacitytosavorthechangefromgrammarschoolwaslimited;shedidnotrevelingoingtodifferentclassroomsduringthedayandbeingtaughtbydifferentteachers,norinknowingthatshehada
heroforabrothersomewhereintheremoteseniorschool.AtticuswasawayinMontgomeryinthelegislature,Jemmightaswellhavebeenwithhimforallshesawofhim.Onthethirtiethof
Septembershesatthroughschoolandlearnednothing.Afterclasses,shewenttothelibraryandstayeduntilthejanitorcameinandtoldhertoleave.Shewalkedtotown
slowly,tobewithitaslongaspossible.Daylightwasfadingwhenshewalkedacrosstheoldsawmilltrackstotheice-house.Theodoretheice-mansaidheytoherasshepassed,andshewalkeddownthestreetandlookedbackathimuntilhewentinside.Thetownwater-tankwas
inafieldbytheice-house.Itwasthetallestthingshehadeverseen.Atinyladderran
fromthegroundtoasmallporchencirclingthetank.Shethrewdownherbooks
andbeganclimbing.Whenshehadclimbedhigherthanthechinaberrytreesinherbackyardshelookeddown,wasdizzy,andlookeduptherestoftheway.AllofMaycombwas
beneathher.Shethoughtshecouldseeherhouse:Calpurniawouldbemakingbiscuits,beforelongJem
wouldbecominginfromfootballpractice.ShelookedacrossthesquareandwassureshesawHenryClintoncomeoutoftheJitneyJunglecarryinganarmloadofgroceries.Heputtheminthebackseatofsomeone’scar.Allthestreetlightscameonatonce,andshesmiledwithsuddendelight.Shesatonthenarrow
porchanddangledherfeetovertheside.Shelostone
shoe,thentheother.Shewonderedwhatkindoffuneralshewouldhave:oldMrs.Duffwouldsitupallnightandmakepeoplesignabook.WouldJemcry?Ifso,itwouldbethefirsttime.Shewonderedifsheshould
doaswandiveorjustslipofftheedge.Ifshehitthegroundonherbackperhapsitwouldnothurtsomuch.Shewonderediftheywouldever
knowhowmuchshelovedthem.Someonegrabbedher.She
stiffenedwhenshefelthandspinningherarmstohersides.TheywereHenry’s,stainedgreenfromvegetables.Wordlesslyhepulledhertoherfeetandpropelledherdownthesteepladder.Whentheyreachedthe
bottom,Henryjerkedherhair:“IsweartoGodifIdon’ttellMr.Finchonyou
thistime!”hebawled.“Iswear,Scout!Haven’tyougotanysenseplayingonthistank?Youmighthavekilledyourself!”Hepulledherhairagain,
takingsomewithhim:heshookher;heunwoundhiswhiteapron,rolleditintoawad,andthrewitviciouslyattheground.“Don’tyouknowyoucould’vekilledyourself.Haven’tyougotanysense?”
JeanLouisestaredblanklyathim.“Theodoresawyouup
yonderandranforMr.Finch,andwhenhecouldn’tfindhimhegotme.GodAlmighty—!”Whenhesawhertrembling
heknewshehadnotbeenplaying.Hetookherlightlybythebackoftheneck;onthewayhomehetriedtofindoutwhatwasbotheringher,butshewouldsaynothing.
Heleftherinthelivingroomandwenttothekitchen.“Baby,whathaveyoubeen
doing?”Whenspeakingtoher,
Calpurnia’svoicewasalwaysamixtureofgrudgingaffectionandmilddisapproval.“Mr.Hank,”shesaid.“Youbettergobacktothestore.Mr.Fred’llbewonderingwhathappenedtoyou.”
Calpurnia,resolutelychewingonasweetgumstick,lookeddownatJeanLouise.“Whathaveyoubeenupto?”shesaid.“Whatwereyoudoingonthatwater-tank?”JeanLouisewasstill.“IfyoutellmeIwon’ttell
Mr.Finch.What’sgotyousoupset,baby?”Calpurniasatdownbeside
her.Calpurniawaspastmiddleageandherbodyhadthickenedalittle,herkinky
hairwasgraying,andshesquintedfrommyopia.Shespreadherhandsinherlapandexaminedthem.“Ain’tanythinginthisworldsobadyoucan’ttellit,”shesaid.JeanLouiseflungherself
intoCalpurnia’slap.Shefeltroughhandskneadinghershouldersandback.“I’mgoingtohavea
baby!”shesobbed.“When?”“Tomorrow!”
Calpurniapulledherupandwipedherfacewithanaproncorner.“Whereinthenameofsensedidyougetanotionlikethat?”Betweengulps,Jean
Louisetoldhershame,omittingnothing,andbeggingthatshenotbesenttoMobile,stretched,orthrownagainstawall.“Couldn’tIgoouttoyourhouse?Please,Cal.”ShebeggedthatCalpurniaseeher
throughinsecret;theycouldtakethebabyawaybynightwhenitcame.“Youbeentotin’allthis
aroundwithyouallthistime?Whydidn’tyousaysomethin’aboutit?”ShefeltCalpurnia’sheavy
armaroundher,comfortingwhentherewasnocomfort.SheheardCalpurniamuttering:“…nobusinessfillin’your
headfullofstories…kill
’emifIcouldgetmyhandson’em.”“Cal,youwillhelpme,
won’tyou?”shesaidtimidly.Calpurniasaid,“Assureas
thesweetJesuswasborn,baby.Getthisinyourheadrightnow,youain’tpregnantandyouneverwere.Thatain’tthewayitis.”“WellifIain’t,thenwhat
amI?”“Withallyourbook
learnin’,youarethemost
ignorantchildIeverdidsee…”Hervoicetrailedoff.“…butIdon’treckonyoureallyeverhadachance.”Slowlyanddeliberately
Calpurniatoldherthesimplestory.AsJeanLouiselistened,heryear’scollectionofrevoltinginformationfellintoafreshcrystaldesign;asCalpurnia’shuskyvoicedroveoutheryear’saccumulationofterror,JeanLouisefeltlifereturn.She
breatheddeeplyandfeltcoolautumninherthroat.Sheheardsausageshissinginthekitchen,sawherbrother’scollectionofsportsmagazinesonthelivingroomtable,smelledthebittersweetodorofCalpurnia’shairdressing.“Cal,”shesaid.“Why
didn’tIknowallthisbefore?”Calpurniafrownedand
soughtananswer.“You’resortof’hindf’omus,Miss
Scout.Yousortofhaven’tcaughtupwithyourself…nowifyou’dbeenraisedonafarmyou’daknownitbeforeyoucouldwalk,orifthere’dbeenanywomenaround—ifyourmammahadlivedyou’daknownit—”“Mamma?”“Yessum.You’daseen
thingslikeyourdaddykissin’yourmammaandyou’daaskedquestionssoonasyoulearnedtotalk,Ibet.”
“Didtheydoallthat?”Calpurniarevealedher
gold-crownedmolars.“Blessyourheart,howdoyouthinkyougothere?Suretheydid.”“WellIdon’tthinkthey
would.”“Baby,you’llhavetogrow
somemorebeforethismakessensetoyou,butyourdaddyandyourmammalovedeachothersomethingfierce,andwhenyoulovesomebodylikethat,MissScout,whythat’s
whatyouwanttodo.That’swhateverybodywantstodowhentheylovelikethat.Theywanttogetmarried,theywanttokissandhugandcarryonandhavebabiesallthetime.”“Idon’tthinkAuntyand
UncleJimmydo.”Calpurniapickedather
apron.“MissScout,differentfolksgetmarriedfordifferentkindsofreasons.MissAlexandra,Ithinkshegot
marriedtokeephouse.”Calpurniascratchedherhead.“Butthat’snotanythingyouneedtostudyabout,that’snotanyofyourconcern.Don’tyoustudyaboutotherfolks’sbusinesstillyoutakecareofyourown.”Calpurniagottoherfeet.
“RightnowyourbusinessisnottogiveanyheedtowhatthosefolksfromOldSarumtellyou—youain’tcalledupontocontradict’em,just
don’tpay’emanyattention—andifyouwanttoknowsomethin’,youjustruntooldCal.”“Whydidn’tyoutellmeall
thistostartwith?”“’Causethingsstartedfor
youamiteearly,andyoudidn’tseemtotaketoitsomuch,andwedidn’tthinkyou’dtaketotherestofitanybetter.Mr.Finchsaidwaitawhiletillyougotusedtotheidea,butwedidn’tcounton
youfindingoutsoquickandsowrong,MissScout.”JeanLouisestretched
luxuriouslyandyawned,delightedwithherexistence.Shewasbecomingsleepyandwasnotsureshecouldstayawakeuntilsupper.“Wehavinghotbiscuitstonight,Cal?”“Yesma’am.”Sheheardthefrontdoor
slamandJemclumpdownthehall.Hewasheadedfor
thekitchen,wherehewouldopentherefrigeratorandswallowaquartofmilktoquenchhisfootball-practicethirst.Beforeshedozedoff,itoccurredtoherthatforthefirsttimeinherlifeCalpurniahadsaid“Yesma’am”and“MissScout”toher,formsofaddressusuallyreservedforthepresenceofhighcompany.Imustbegettingold,shethought.
Jemwakenedherwhenhesnappedontheoverheadlight.Shesawhimwalkingtowardher,thebigmaroonMstandingoutstarklyonhiswhitesweater.“Areyouawake,Little
Three-Eyes?”“Don’tbesarcastic,”she
said.IfHenryorCalpurniahadtoldonhershewoulddie,butshewouldtakethemwithher.
Shestaredatherbrother.Hishairwasdampandhesmelledofthestrongsoapintheschoolhouselockerrooms.Betterstartitfirst,shethought.“Huh,you’vebeen
smoking,”shesaid.“Smellitamile.”“Haven’t.”“Don’tseehowyoucan
playinthelineanyway.You’retooskinny.”
Jemsmiledanddeclinedhergambit.They’vetoldhim,shethought.JempattedhisM.“Old
Never-Miss-’Em-Finch,that’sme.Caughtsevenoutoftenthisafternoon,”hesaid.Hewenttothetableand
pickedupafootballmagazine,openedit,thumbedthroughit,andwasthumbingthroughitagainwhenhesaid:“Scout,ifthere’severanythingthathappenstoyou
orsomething—youknow—somethingyoumightnotwanttotellAtticusabout—”“Huh?”“Youknow,ifyougetin
troubleatschooloranything—youjustletmeknow.I’lltakecareofyou.”Jemsaunteredfromthe
livingroom,leavingJeanLouisewide-eyedandwonderingifshewerefullyawake.
12
SUNLIGHTROUSEDHER.Shelookedatherwatch.Fiveo’clock.Someonehadcoveredherupduringthenight.Shethrewoffthespread,putherfeettothefloor,andsatgazingatherlonglegs,startledtofindthemtwenty-sixyearsold.
Herloaferswerestandingatattentionwhereshehadsteppedoutofthemtwelvehoursago.Onesockwaslyingbesidehershoesandshediscovereditsmateonherfoot.Sheremovedthesockandpaddedsoftlytothedressingtable,whereshecaughtsightofherselfinthemirror.Shelookedruefullyather
reflection.YouhavehadwhatMr.Burgesswouldcall“The
’Orrors,”shetoldit.Golly,Ihaven’twakeduplikethisforfifteenyears.TodayisMonday,I’vebeenhomesinceSaturday,Ihaveelevendaysofmyvacationleft,andIwakeupwiththescreamin’meemies.Shelaughedatherself:well,itwasthelongestonrecord—longerthanelephantsandnothingtoshowforit.Shepickedupapackageof
cigarettesandthreekitchen
matches,stuffedthematchesbehindthecellophanewrapper,andwalkedquietlyintothehall.Sheopenedthewoodendoor,thenthescreendoor.Onanyotherdayshe
wouldhavestoodbarefootonthewetgrasslisteningtothemockingbirds’earlyservice;shewouldhaveponderedoverthemeaninglessnessofsilent,austerebeautyrenewingitselfwithevery
sunriseandgoingungazedatbyhalftheworld.Shewouldhavewalkedbeneathyellow-ringedpinesrisingtoabrillianteasternsky,andhersenseswouldhavesuccumbedtothejoyofthemorning.Itwaswaitingtoreceive
her,butsheneitherlookednorlistened.Shehadtwominutesofpeacebeforeyesterdayreturned:nothingcankillthepleasureofone’s
firstcigaretteonanewmorning.JeanLouiseblewsmokecarefullyintothestillair.Shetouchedyesterday
cautiously,thenwithdrew.Idon’tdarethinkaboutitnow,untilitgoesfarenoughaway.Itisweird,shethought,thismustbelikephysicalpain.Theysaywhenyoucan’tstandityourbodyisitsowndefense,youblackoutandyoudon’tfeelanymore.The
Lordneversendsyoumorethanyoucanbear—Thatwasanancient
Maycombphraseemployedbyitsfragileladieswhosatupwithcorpses,supposedtobeprofoundlycomfortingtothebereaved.Verywell,shewouldbecomforted.Shewouldsitouthertwoweekshomeinpolitedetachment,sayingnothing,askingnothing,blamingnot.Shewoulddoaswellascouldbe
expectedunderthecircumstances.Sheputherarmsonher
kneesandherheadinherarms.IwishtoGodIhadcaughtyoubothatajookwithtwosleazywomen—thelawnneedsmowing.JeanLouisewalkedtothe
garageandraisedtheslidingdoor.Sherolledoutthegasolinemotor,unscrewedthefuelcap,andinspectedthetank.Shereplacedthe
cap,flickedatinylever,placedonefootonthemower,bracedtheotherfirmlyinthegrass,andyankedthecordquickly.Themotorchokedtwiceanddied.Damnittohell,I’ve
floodedit.Shewheeledthemower
intothesunandreturnedtothegaragewhereshearmedherselfwithheavyhedgeclippers.Shewenttotheculvertattheentrancetothe
drivewayandsnippedthesturdiergrassgrowingatitstwomouths.Somethingmovedatherfeet,andsheclosedhercuppedlefthandoveracricket.Sheedgedherrighthandbeneaththecreatureandscoopeditup.Thecricketbeatfranticallyagainstherpalmsandsheletitdownagain.“Youwereouttoolate,”shesaid.“Gohometoyourmamma.”
Atruckdroveupthehillandstoppedinfrontofher.ANegroboyjumpedfromtherunning-boardandhandedherthreequartsofmilk.Shecarriedthemilktothefrontsteps,andonherwaybacktotheculvertshegavethemoweranothertug.Thistimeitstarted.Sheglancedwith
satisfactionattheneatswathbehindher.Thegrasslaycrisplycutandsmelledlikea
creekbank.ThecourseofEnglishLiteraturewouldhavebeendecidedlydifferenthadMr.Wordsworthownedapowermower,shethought.Somethinginvadedherline
ofvisionandshelookedup.Alexandrawasstandingatthefrontdoormakingcome-here-this-minutegestures.Ibelieveshe’sgotonacorset.Iwonderifsheeverturnsoverinbedatnight.
Alexandrashowedlittleevidenceofsuchactivityasshestoodwaitingforherniece:herthickgrayhairwasneatlyarranged,asusual;shehadonnomakeupanditmadenodifference.Iwonderifshehaseverreallyfeltanythinginherlife.Francisprobablyhurtherwhenheappeared,butIwonderifanythinghasevertouchedher.
“JeanLouise!”hissedAlexandra.“You’rewakingupthiswholesideoftownwiththatthing!You’vealreadywakedyourfather,andhedidn’tgettwowinkslastnight.Stopitrightnow!”JeanLouisekickedoffthe
motor,andthesuddensilencebrokehertrucewiththem.“Yououghttoknowbetter
thantorunthatthingbarefooted.FinkSewellgotthreetoeschoppedoffthat
way,andAtticuskilledasnakethreefeetlonginthebackyardjustlastfall.Honestly,thewayyoubehavesometimes,anybody’dthinkyouwerebehindthepale!”Inspiteofherself,Jean
Louisegrinned.Alexandracouldbereliedupontoproduceamalapropismonoccasions,themostnotablebeinghercommentonthegulositydisplayedbytheyoungestmemberofaMobile
Jewishfamilyuponcompletinghisthirteenthyear:AlexandradeclaredthatAaronSteinwasthegreediestboyshehadeverseen,thatheatefourteenearsofcornathisMenopause.“Whydidn’tyoubringin
themilk?It’sprobablyclabberbynow.”“Ididn’twanttowakeyou
allup,Aunty.”“Well,weareup,”shesaid
grimly.“Doyouwantany
breakfast?”“Justcoffee,please.”“Iwantyoutogetdressed
andgototownformethismorning.You’llhavetodriveAtticus.He’sprettycrippledtoday.”Shewishedshehadstayed
inbeduntilhehadleftthehouse,buthewouldhavewakedheranywaytodrivehimtotown.Shewentintothehouse,
wenttothekitchen,andsat
downatthetable.ShelookedatthegrotesqueeatingequipmentAlexandrahadputbyhisplate.Atticusdrewthelineathavingsomeonefeedhim,andDr.Finchsolvedtheproblembyjammingthehandlesofafork,knife,andspoonintotheendsofbigwoodenspools.“Goodmorning.”JeanLouiseheardher
fatherentertheroom.She
lookedatherplate.“Goodmorning,sir.”“Iheardyouweren’t
feelinggood.IlookedinonyouwhenIgothomeandyouweresoundasleep.Allrightthismorning?”“Yessir.”“Don’tsoundit.”AtticusaskedtheLordto
givethemgratefulheartsfortheseandalltheirblessings,pickeduphisglass,andspilleditscontentsoverthe
table.Themilkranintohislap.“I’msorry,”hesaid.“It
takesmeawhiletogetgoingsomemornings.”“Don’tmove,I’llfixit.”
JeanLouisejumpedupandwenttothesink.Shethrewtwodishtowelsoverthemilk,gotafreshonefromadrawerofthecabinet,andblottedthemilkfromherfather’strousersandshirtfront.
“Ihaveawhoppingcleaningbillthesedays,”hesaid.“Yessir.”AlexandraservedAtticus
baconandeggsandtoast.Hisattentionuponhisbreakfast,JeanLouisethoughtitwouldbesafetohavealookathim.Hehadnotchanged.His
facewasthesameasalways.Idon’tknowwhyIexpectedhimtobelookinglikeDorianGrayorsomebody.
Shejumpedwhenthetelephonerang.JeanLouisewasunableto
readjustherselftocallsatsixinthemorning,MaryWebster’sHour.Alexandraanswereditandreturnedtothekitchen.“It’sforyou,Atticus.It’s
thesheriff.”“Askhimwhathewants,
please,Zandra.”Alexandrareappeared
saying,“Somethingabout
somebodyaskedhimtocallyou—”“TellhimtocallHank,
Zandra.HecantellHankwhateverhewantstotellme.”HeturnedtoJeanLouise.“I’mgladIhaveajuniorpartneraswellasasister.Whatonemissestheotherdoesn’t.Wonderwhatthesheriffwantsatthishour?”“SodoI,”shesaidflatly.
“Sweet,IthinkyououghttoletAllenhavealookatyoutoday.You’reoffish.”“Yessir.”Secretly,shewatchedher
fathereathisbreakfast.Hemanagedthecumbersometablewareasifitwereitsnormalsizeandshape.Shestoleaglanceathisfaceandsawitcoveredwithwhitestubble.Ifhehadabearditwouldbewhite,buthishair’sjustturningandhiseyebrows
arestilljet.UncleJack’salreadywhitetohisforehead,andAunty’sgrayallover.WhenIbegintogo,wherewillIstart?WhyamIthinkingthesethings?Shesaid,“Excuseme,”and
tookhercoffeetothelivingroom.SheputhercuponalamptableandwasopeningtheblindswhenshesawHenry’scarturnintothedriveway.Hefoundherstandingbythewindow.
“Goodmorning.Youlooklikepalebluesin,”hesaid.“Thankyou.Atticusisin
thekitchen.”Henrylookedthesameas
ever.Afteranight’ssleep,hisscarwaslessvivid.“Youinasnitaboutsomething?”hesaid.“Iwavedatyouinthebalconyyesterdaybutyoudidn’tseeme.”“Yousawme?”“Yeah.Iwashopingyou’d
bewaitingoutsideforus,but
youweren’t.Feelingbettertoday?”“Yes.”“Well,don’tbitemyhead
off.”Shedrankhercoffee,told
herselfshewantedanothercup,andfollowedHenryintothekitchen.Heleanedagainstthesink,twirlinghiscarkeysonhisforefinger.Heisnearlyastallasthecabinets,shethought.Ishallneverbeable
tospeakonelucidsentencetohimagain.“—happenedallright,”
Henrywassaying.“Itwasboundtosoonerorlater.”“Washedrinking?”asked
Atticus.“Notdrinking,drunk.He
wascominginfromanall-nightboozingdownatthatjooktheyhave.”“What’sthematter?”said
JeanLouise.
“Zeebo’sboy,”saidHenry.“Sheriffsaidhehashiminjail—he’daskedhimtocallMr.Finchtocomegethimout—huh.”“Why?”“Honey,Zeebo’sboywas
comingoutoftheQuartersatdaybreakthismorningsplittin’thewind,andheranoveroldMr.Healycrossingtheroadandkilledhimdead.”“Ohno—”
“Whosecarwasit?”askedAtticus.“Zeebo’s,Ireckon.”“What’dyoutellthe
sheriff?”askedAtticus.“ToldhimtotellZeebo’s
boyyouwouldn’ttouchthecase.”Atticusleanedhiselbows
againstthetableandpushedhimselfback.“Youshouldn’t’vedone
that,Hank,”hesaidmildly.“Ofcoursewe’lltakeit.”
Thankyou,God.JeanLouisesighedsoftlyandrubbedhereyes.Zeebo’sboywasCalpurnia’sgrandson.Atticusmayforgetalotofthings,buthewouldneverforgetthem.Yesterdaywasfastdissolvingintoabadnight.PoorMr.Healy,hewasprobablysoloadedheneverknewwhathithim.“ButMr.Finch,”Henry
said.“Ithoughtnoneofthe—”
Atticuseasedhisarmonthecornerofthechair.Whenconcentratingitwashispracticetofingerhiswatch-chainandrummageabstractedlyinhiswatchpocket.Todayhishandswerestill.“Hank,Isuspectwhenwe
knowallthefactsinthecasethebestthatcanbedonefortheboyisforhimtopleadguilty.Now,isn’titbetterforustostandupwithhimin
courtthantohavehimfallintothewronghands?”Asmilespreadslowly
acrossHenry’sface.“Iseewhatyoumean,Mr.Finch.”“Well,Idon’t,”saidJean
Louise.“Whatwronghands?”Atticusturnedtoher.
“Scout,youprobablydon’tknowit,buttheNAACP-paidlawyersarestandingaroundlikebuzzardsdownhere
waitingforthingslikethistohappen—”“Youmeancolored
lawyers?”Atticusnodded.“Yep.
We’vegotthreeorfourinthestatenow.They’remostlyinBirminghamandplaceslikethat,butcircuitbycircuittheywatchandwait,justforsomefelonycommittedbyaNegroagainstawhiteperson—you’dbesurprisedhowquicktheyfindout—inthey
comeand…well,intermsyoucanunderstand,theydemandNegroesonthejuriesinsuchcases.Theysubpoenathejurycommissioners,theyaskthejudgetostepdown,theyraiseeverylegaltrickintheirbooks—andtheyhave’emaplenty—theytrytoforcethejudgeintoerror.Aboveallelse,theytrytogetthecaseintoaFederalcourtwheretheyknowthecardsarestackedintheirfavor.It’s
alreadyhappenedinournext-door-neighborcircuit,andthere’snothinginthebooksthatsaysitwon’thappenhere.”AtticusturnedtoHenry.
“Sothat’swhyIsaywe’lltakehiscaseifhewantsus.”“IthoughttheNAACPwas
forbiddentodobusinessinAlabama,”saidJeanLouise.AtticusandHenrylooked
atherandlaughed.
“Honey,”saidHenry,“youdon’tknowwhatwentoninAbbottCountywhensomethingjustlikethishappened.Thisspringwethoughtthere’dberealtroubleforawhile.Peopleacrosstheriverhereeven,boughtupalltheammunitiontheycouldfind—”JeanLouiselefttheroom.Inthelivingroom,she
heardAtticus’sevenvoice:
“…stemthetidealittlebitthisway…goodthingheaskedforoneoftheMaycomblawyers….”Shewouldkeephercoffee
downcomehellorhighwater.WhowerethepeopleCalpurnia’stribeturnedtofirstandalways?HowmanydivorceshadAtticusgottenforZeebo?Five,atleast.Whichboywasthisone?Hewasinrealdutchthistime,heneededrealhelpandwhatdo
theydobutsitinthekitchenandtalkNAACP…notlongago,Atticuswouldhavedoneitsimplyfromhisgoodness,hewouldhavedoneitforCal.Imustgotoseeherthismorningwithoutfail….Whatwasthisblightthat
hadcomedownoverthepeoplesheloved?Didsheseeitinstarkreliefbecauseshehadbeenawayfromit?Haditpercolatedgraduallythroughtheyearsuntilnow?
Haditalwaysbeenunderhernoseforhertoseeifshehadonlylooked?No,notthelast.Whatturnedordinarymenintoscreamingdirtatthetopoftheirvoices,whatmadeherkindofpeoplehardenandsay“nigger”whenthewordhadnevercrossedtheirlipsbefore?“—keepthemintheir
places,Ihope,”Alexandrasaid,assheenteredthe
livingroomwithAtticusandHenry.“There’snothingtofret
about,”saidHenry.“We’llcomeoutallright.Seven-thirtytonight,hon?”“Yes.”“Well,youmightshow
someenthusiasmaboutit.”Atticuschuckled.“She’s
alreadytiredofyou,Hank.”“CanItakeyoutotown,
Mr.Finch?It’spowerfullyearly,butIthinkI’llrun
downandtendtosomethingsinthecoolofthemorning.”“Thanks,butScout’llrun
medownlater.”Hisuseofherchildhood
namecrashedonherears.Don’tyouevercallmethatagain.YouwhocalledmeScoutaredeadandinyourgrave.Alexandrasaid,“I’vegota
listofthingsforyoutogetattheJitneyJungle,JeanLouise.Nowgochangeyour
clothes.Youcanruntotownnow—it’sopen—andcomebackforyourfather.”JeanLouisewenttothe
bathroomandturnedonthehotwatertapinthetub.Shewenttoherroom,pulledoutacottondressfromthecloset,andslungitoverherarm.Shefoundsomeflat-heeledshoesinhersuitcase,pickedupapairofpanties,andtookthemallintothebathroom.
Shelookedatherselfinthemedicine-cabinetmirror.Who’sDoriannow?Therewereblue-brown
shadowsunderhereyes,andthelinesfromhernostrilstothecornersofhermouthweredefinite.Nodoubtaboutthem,shethought.Shepulledhercheektoonesideandpeeredatthetinymotherline.Icouldn’tcareless.BythetimeI’mreadytogetmarriedI’llbeninetyandthenit’llbe
toolate.Who’llburyme?I’mtheyoungestbyfar—that’sonereasonforhavingchildren.Shecutthehotwaterwith
cold,andwhenshecouldstanditshegotintothetub,scrubbedherselfsoberly,releasedthewater,rubbedherselfdry,anddressedquickly.Shegavethetubarinse,driedherhands,spreadthetowelontherack,andleftthebathroom.
“Putonsomelipstick,”saidheraunt,meetingherinthehall.Alexandrawenttotheclosetanddraggedoutthevacuumcleaner.“I’lldothatwhenIcome
back,”saidJeanLouise.“It’llbedonewhenyouget
back.”
THESUNHADnotyetblisteredthesidewalksofMaycomb,butitsoonwould.Sheparked
thecarinfrontofthegrocerystoreandwentin.Mr.Fredshookhandswith
her,saidhewasgladtoseeher,drewoutawetCokefromthemachine,wipeditonhisapron,andgaveittoher.Thisisonegoodthing
aboutlifethatneverchanges,shethought.Aslongashelived,aslongasshereturned,Mr.Fredwouldbeherewithhis…simplewelcome.Whatwasthat?Alice?BrerRabbit?
ItwasMole.Mole,whenhereturnedfromsomelongjourney,desperatelytired,hadfoundthefamiliarwaitingforhimwithitssimplewelcome.“I’llrassleupthese
groceriesforyouandyoucanenjoyyourCoke,”saidMr.Fred.“Thankyou,sir,”shesaid.
JeanLouiseglancedatthelistandhereyeswidened.“Aunty’sgettin’morelike
CousinJoshuaallthetime.Whatdoesshewantwithcocktailnapkins?”Mr.Fredchuckled.“I
reckonshemeanspartynapkins.I’veneverheardofacocktailpassingherlips.”“Youneverwill,either.”Mr.Fredwentabouthis
business,andpresentlyhecalledfromthebackofthestore.“HearaboutMr.Healy?”
“Ah—um,”saidJeanLouise.Shewasalawyer’sdaughter.“Didn’tknowwhathit
him,”saidMr.Fred.“Didn’tknowwherehewasgoingtobeginwith,pooroldthing.Hedrankmorejack-legliquorthananyhumanIeversaw.Thatwashisoneaccomplishment.”“Didn’theusedtoplaythe
jug?”
“Suredid,”saidMr.Fred.“Yourememberbackwhenthey’dhavetalentnightsatthecourthouse?He’dalwaysbethereblowin’thatjug.He’dbringitfullanddrinkabittogetthetonedown,thendrinksomemoreuntilitwasreallow,andthenplayhissolo.ItwasalwaysOldDanTucker,andhealwaysscandalizedtheladies,buttheynevercouldproveanything.Youknowpure
shinnydoesn’tsmellmuch.”“Howdidhelive?”“Pension,Ithink.Hewas
intheSpanish—totellyouthetruthhewasinsomewarbutIcan’trememberwhatitwas.Here’syourgroceries.”“Thanks,Mr.Fred,”Jean
Louisesaid.“GoodLord,I’veforgotmymoney.CanIleavethesliponAtticus’sdesk?He’llbedownbeforelong.”“Sure,honey.How’syour
daddy?”
“He’sgrimtoday,buthe’llbeattheofficecometheFlood.”“Whydon’tyoustayhome
thistime?”Sheloweredherguard
whenshesawnothingbutincuriousgoodhumorinMr.Fred’sface:“Iwill,someday.”“Youknow,Iwasinthe
FirstWar,”saidMr.Fred.“Ididn’tgooverseas,butIsawalotofthiscountry.Ididn’t
havetheitchtogetback,soafterthewarIstayedawayfortenyears,butthelongerIstayedawaythemoreImissedMaycomb.IgottothepointwhereIfeltlikeIhadtocomebackordie.Younevergetitoutofyourbones.”“Mr.Fred,Maycomb’sjust
likeanyotherlittletown.Youtakeacross-section—”“It’snot,JeanLouise.You
knowthat.”
“You’reright,”shenodded.Itwasnotbecausethiswas
whereyourlifebegan.Itwasbecausethiswaswherepeoplewerebornandbornandbornuntilfinallytheresultwasyou,drinkingaCokeintheJitneyJungle.Nowshewasawareofa
sharpapartness,aseparation,notfromAtticusandHenrymerely.AllofMaycombandMaycombCountywere
leavingherasthehourspassed,andsheautomaticallyblamedherself.Shebumpedherhead
gettingintothecar.Ishallneverbecomeaccustomedtothesethings.UncleJackhasafewmajorpointsinhisphilosophy.
ALEXANDRATOOKTHEgroceriesfromthebackseat.JeanLouiseleanedoverandopenedthedoorforher
father;shereachedacrosshimandshutit.“Wantthecarthis
morning,Aunty?”“No,dear.Going
somewhere?”“Yessum.Iwon’tbegone
long.”Shewatchedthestreet
closely.Icandoanythingbutlookathimandlistentohimandtalktohim.Whenshestoppedinfront
ofthebarbershopshesaid,
“AskMr.Fredhowmuchweowehim.Iforgottotaketheslipoutofthesack.Saidyou’dpayhim.”Whensheopenedthedoor
forhim,hesteppedintothestreet.“Becareful!”Atticuswavedtothedriver
ofthepassingcar.“Itdidn’thitme,”hesaid.Shedrovearoundthe
squareandouttheMeridianhighwayuntilshecametoa
forkintheroad.Thisiswhereitmusthavehappened,shethought.Thereweredarkpatchesin
theredgravelwherethepavementended,andshedrovethecaroverMr.Healy’sblood.Whenshecametoaforkinthedirtroadsheturnedright,anddrovedownalanesonarrowthebigcarleftnoroomoneitherside.Shewentonuntilshecouldgonofarther.
Theroadwasblockedbyalineofcarsstandingaslanthalfwayintheditch.Sheparkedbehindthelastoneandgotout.Shewalkeddowntherowpasta1939Ford,aChevroletofambiguousvintage,aWillys,andarobin’s-eggbluehearsewiththewordsHEAVENLYRESTpickedoutinachromiumsemicircleonitsfrontdoor.Shewasstartled,andshepeeredinside:inthe
backtherewererowsofchairsscrewedtothefloorandnoplaceforarecumbentbody,quickordead.Thisisataxi,shethought.Shepulledawireringoff
thegatepostandwentinside.Calpurnia’swasasweptyard:JeanLouisecouldtellithadbeensweptrecently,brushbroomscratcheswerestillvisiblebetweensmoothfootprints.
Shelookedup,andontheporchofCalpurnia’slittlehousestoodNegroesinvariousstatesofpublicattire:acoupleofwomenworetheirbest,onehadonacalicoapron,onewasdressedinherfieldclothes.JeanLouiseidentifiedoneofthemenasProfessorChesterSumpter,principaloftheMt.SinaiTradeInstitute,MaycombCounty’slargestNegroschool.ProfessorSumpter
wasclad,ashealwayswas,inblack.Theotherblack-suitedmanwasastrangertoher,butJeanLouiseknewhewasaminister.Zeeboworehisworkclothes.Whentheysawher,they
stoodstraightandretreatedfromtheedgeoftheporch,becomingasone.Themenremovedtheirhatsandcaps,thewomanwearingtheapronfoldedherhandsbeneathit.
“Morning,Zeebo,”saidJeanLouise.Zeebobrokethepatternby
steppingforward.“Howdydo,MissJeanLouise.Wedidn’tknowyouwashome.”JeanLouisewasacutely
consciousthattheNegroeswerewatchingher.Theystoodsilent,respectful,andwerewatchingherintently.Shesaid,“IsCalpurniahome?”
“Yessum,MissJeanLouise,Mammainthehouse.Wantmetofetchher?”“MayIgoin,Zeebo?”“Yessum.”Theblackpeoplepartedfor
hertoenterthefrontdoor.Zeebo,unsureofprotocol,openedthedoorandstoodbacktoletherenter.“Leadtheway,Zeebo,”shesaid.Shefollowedhimintoa
darkparlortowhichclungthemuskysweetsmellofclean
Negro,snuff,andHeartsofLovehairdressing.Severalshadowyformsrosewhensheentered.“Thisway,MissJean
Louise.”Theywalkeddownatiny
hallway,andZeebotappedatanunpaintedpinedoor.“Mamma,”hesaid.“MissJeanLouisehere.”Thedooropenedsoftly,
andZeebo’swife’sheadappearedaroundit.Shecame
outintothehall,whichwasscarcelylargeenoughtocontainthethreeofthem.“Hello,Helen,”saidJean
Louise.“HowisCalpurnia?”“Shetakingitmightyhard,
MissJeanLouise.Frank,heneverhadanytroublebefore….”So,itwasFrank.Ofallher
multifariousdescendants,CalpurniatookmostprideinFrank.HewasonthewaitinglistforTuskegeeInstitute.He
wasabornplumber,couldfixanythingwaterranthrough.Helen,heavywitha
pendulousstomachfromhavingcarriedsomanychildren,leanedagainstthewall.Shewasbarefooted.“Zeebo,”saidJeanLouise,
“youandHelenlivingtogetheragain?”“Yessum,”saidHelen
placidly.“He’sdonegotold.”JeanLouisesmiledat
Zeebo,wholookedsheepish.
Forthelifeofher,JeanLouisecouldnotdisentangleZeebo’sdomestichistory.ShethoughtHelenmustbeFrank’smother,butshewasnotsure.ShewaspositiveHelenwasZeebo’sfirstwife,andwasequallysureshewashispresentwife,buthowmanywerethereinbetween?SherememberedAtticus
tellingofthepairinhisoffice,yearsagowhentheyappearedseekingadivorce.
Atticus,tryingtoreconcilethem,askedHelenwouldshetakeherhusbandback.“Nawsir,Mr.Finch,”washerslowreply.“Zeebo,hebeengoin’aroundenjoyin’otherwomen.Hedon’tenjoymenone,andIdon’twantnomanwhodon’tenjoyhiswife.”“CouldIseeCalpurnia,
Helen?”“Yessum,gorightin.”
Calpurniawassittinginawoodenrockingchairinacorneroftheroombythefireplace.TheroomcontainedanironbedsteadcoveredwithafadedquiltofaDoubleWeddingRingpattern.Therewerethreehugegilt-framedphotographsofNegroesandaCoca-Colacalendaronthewall.Aroughmantelpieceteemedwithsmallbrightobjetsd’artmadeofplaster,porcelain,clay,andmilk
glass.Anakedlightbulbburnedonacordswingingfromtheceiling,castingsharpshadowsonthewallbehindthemantelpiece,andinthecornerwhereCalpurniasat.Howsmallshelooks,
thoughtJeanLouise.Sheusedtobesotall.Calpurniawasoldandshe
wasbony.Hersightwasfailing,andsheworeapairofblack-rimmedglasseswhich
stoodoutinharshcontrasttoherwarmbrownskin.Herbighandswererestinginherlap,andsheraisedthemandspreadherfingerswhenJeanLouiseentered.JeanLouise’sthroat
tightenedwhenshecaughtsightofCalpurnia’sbonyfingers,fingerssogentlewhenJeanLouisewasillandhardasebonywhenshewasbad,fingersthathadperformedlong-agotasksof
lovingintricacy.JeanLouiseheldthemtohermouth.“Cal,”shesaid.“Sitdown,baby,”said
Calpurnia.“Isthereachair?”“Yes,Cal.”JeanLouise
drewupachairandsatinfrontofheroldfriend.“Cal,Icametotellyou—I
cametotellyouthatifthere’sanythingIcandoforyou,youmustletmeknow.”“Thankyou,ma’am,”said
Calpurnia.“Idon’tknowof
anything.”“IwanttotellyouthatMr.
Finchgotwordofitearlythismorning.FrankhadthesheriffcallhimandMr.Finch’ll…helphim.”Thewordsdiedonherlips.
Daybeforeyesterdayshewouldhavesaid“Mr.Finch’llhelphim”confidentthatAtticuswouldturndarktodaylight.Calpurnianodded.Her
headwasupandshelooked
straightbeforeher.Shecannotseemewell,thoughtJeanLouise.Iwonderhowoldsheis.Ineverknewexactly,andIdoubtifsheeverdid.JeanLouisesaid,“Don’t
worry,Cal.Atticus’lldohisbest.”Calpurniasaid,“Iknowhe
will,MissScout.Healwaysdohisbest.Healwaysdoright.”
JeanLouisestaredopen-mouthedattheoldwoman.Calpurniawassittinginahaughtydignitythatappearedonstateoccasions,andwithitappearederraticgrammar.Hadtheearthstoppedturning,hadthetreesfrozen,hadtheseagivenupitsdead,JeanLouisewouldnothavenoticed.“Calpurnia!”ShebarelyheardCalpurnia
talking:“Frank,hedowrong
…hepayforit…mygrandson.Ilovehim…buthegotojailwithorwithoutMr.Finch….”“Calpurnia,stopit!”JeanLouisewasonher
feet.Shefeltthetearscomeandshewalkedblindlytothewindow.Theoldwomanhadnot
moved.JeanLouiseturnedandsawhersittingthere,seemingtoinhalesteadily.
Calpurniawaswearinghercompanymanners.JeanLouisesatdownagain
infrontofher.“Cal,”shecried,“Cal,Cal,Cal,whatareyoudoingtome?What’sthematter?I’myourbaby,haveyouforgottenme?Whyareyoushuttingmeout?Whatareyoudoingtome?”Calpurnialiftedherhands
andbroughtthemdownsoftlyonthearmsoftherocker.Herfacewasamilliontiny
wrinkles,andhereyesweredimbehindthicklenses.“Whatareyoualldoingto
us?”shesaid.“Us?”“Yessum.Us.”JeanLouisesaidslowly,
moretoherselfthantoCalpurnia:“AslongasI’velivedIneverremotelydreamedthatanythinglikethiscouldhappen.Andhereitis.Icannottalktotheonehumanwhoraisedmefrom
thetimeIwastwoyearsold…itishappeningasIsithereandIcannotbelieveit.Talktome,Cal.ForGod’ssaketalktomeright.Don’tsittherelikethat!”Shelookedintotheold
woman’sfaceandsheknewitwashopeless.Calpurniawaswatchingher,andinCalpurnia’seyeswasnohintofcompassion.JeanLouiserosetogo.
“Tellmeonething,Cal,”she
said,“justonethingbeforeIgo—please,I’vegottoknow.Didyouhateus?”Theoldwomansatsilent,
bearingtheburdenofheryears.JeanLouisewaited.Finally,Calpurniashook
herhead.
“ZEEBO,”SAIDJEANLouise.“Ifthere’sanythingIcando,forgoodness’sakecallonme.”“Yessum,”thebigman
said.“Butitdon’tlooklike
there’sanything.Frank,hesho’killedhim,andthere’snothingnobodycando.Mr.Finch,hecan’tdonothingaboutsump’nlikethat.IsthereanythingIcandoforyouwhileyou’rehome,ma’am?”Theywerestandingonthe
porchinthepathclearedforthem.JeanLouisesighed.“Yes,Zeebo,rightnow.Youcancomehelpmeturnmy
cararound.I’dbeinthecornpatchbeforelong.”“Yessum,MissJean
Louise.”ShewatchedZeebo
manipulatethecarinthenarrowconfineoftheroad.IhopeIcangetbackhome,shethought.“Thankyou,Zeebo,”shesaidwearily.“Remembernow.”TheNegrotouchedhishatbrimandwalkedbacktohismother’shouse.
JeanLouisesatinthecar,staringatthesteeringwheel.WhyisitthateverythingIhaveeverlovedonthisearthhasgoneawayfrommeintwodays’time?WouldJemturnhisbackonme?Shelovedus,Iswearshelovedus.Shesatthereinfrontofmeandshedidn’tseeme,shesawwhitefolks.Sheraisedme,andshedoesn’tcare.Itwasnotalwayslikethis,
Iswearitwasn’t.Peopleused
totrusteachotherforsomereason,I’veforgottenwhy.Theydidn’twatcheachotherlikehawksthen.Iwouldn’tgetlookslikethatgoingupthosestepstenyearsago.Sheneverworehercompanymannerswithoneofus…whenJemdied,herpreciousJem,itnearlykilledher….JeanLouiseremembered
goingtoCalpurnia’shouselateoneafternoontwoyearsago.Shewassittinginher
room,asshewastoday,herglassesdownonhernose.Shehadbeencrying.“Alwayssoeasytofixfor,”Calpurniasaid.“Neveraday’stroubleinhislife,myboy.Hebroughtmeapresenthomefromthewar,hebroughtmeanelectriccoat.”WhenshesmiledCalpurnia’sfacebrokeintoitsmillionwrinkles.Shewenttothebed,andfromunderitpulledoutawidebox.Sheopenedthebox
andheldupanenormousexpanseofblackleather.ItwasaGermanflyingofficer’scoat.“See?”shesaid.“Itturnson.”JeanLouiseexaminedthecoatandfoundtinywiresrunningthroughit.Therewasapocketcontainingbatteries.“Mr.Jemsaidit’dkeepmyboneswarminthewintertime.Hesaidformenottobescaredofit,buttobecarefulwhenitwaslightning.”Calpurniain
herelectriccoatwastheenvyofherfriendsandneighbors.“Cal,”JeanLouisehadsaid.“Pleasecomeback.Ican’tgobacktoNewYorkeasyinmymindifyouaren’tthere.”Thatseemedtohelp:Calpurniastraightenedupandnodded.“Yesma’am,”shesaid.“I’mcomingback.Don’tyouworry.”JeanLouisepressedthe
drivebuttonandthecarmovedslowlydowntheroad.
Eeny,meeny,miny,moe.Catchaniggerbyhistoe.Whenhehollerslethimgo…Godhelpme.
PARTV
13
ALEXANDRAWASATthekitchentableabsorbedinculinaryrites.JeanLouisetiptoedpasthertonoavail.“Comelookhere.”Alexandrasteppedback
fromthetableandrevealedseveralcut-glassplatters
stackedthree-deepwithdelicatesandwiches.“IsthatAtticus’sdinner?”“No,he’sgoingtotryto
eatdowntowntoday.Youknowhowhehatesbarginginonabunchofwomen.”HolyMosesKingofthe
Jews.TheCoffee.“Sweet,whydon’tyouget
thelivingroomready.They’llbehereinanhour.”“Who’veyouinvited?”
AlexandracalledoutaguestlistsopreposterousthatJeanLouisesighedheavily.Halfthewomenwereyoungerthanshe,halfwereolder;theyhadsharednoexperiencethatshecouldrecall,exceptonefemalewithwhomshehadquarreledsteadilyallthroughgrammarschool.“Where’severybodyinmyclass?”shesaid.“About,Isuppose.”
Ahyes.About,inOldSarumandpointsdeeperinthewoods.Shewonderedwhathadbecomeofthem.“Didyougovisitingthis
morning?”askedAlexandra.“WenttoseeCal.”Alexandra’sknifeclattered
onthetable.“JeanLouise!”“Nowwhatthehell’sthe
matter?”ThisisthelastroundIwilleverhavewithher,sohelpmeGod.Ihaveneverbeenabletodoanythingright
inmylifeasfarasshe’sconcerned.“Calmdown,Miss.”
Alexandra’svoicewascold.“JeanLouise,nobodyinMaycombgoestoseeNegroesanymore,notafterwhatthey’vebeendoingtous.Besidesbeingshiftlessnowtheylookatyousometimeswithopeninsolence,andasfarasdependingonthemgoes,whythat’sout.
“ThatNAACP’scomedownhereandfilled’emwithpoisontillitrunsoutoftheirears.It’ssimplybecausewe’vegotastrongsheriffthatwehaven’thadbadtroubleinthiscountysofar.Youdonotrealizewhatisgoingon.We’vebeengoodto’em,we’vebailed’emoutofjailandoutofdebtsincethebeginningoftime,we’vemadeworkfor’emwhentherewasnowork,we’ve
encouraged’emtobetterthemselves,they’vegottencivilized,butmydear—thatveneerofcivilization’ssothinthatabunchofuppityYankeeNegroescanshatterahundredyears’progressinfive….“Noma’am,afterthe
thanksthey’vegivenusforlookingafter’em,nobodyinMaycombfeelsmuchinclinedtohelp’emwhentheygetintroublenow.All
theydoisbitethehandsthatfeed’em.Nosir,notanymore—theycanshiftforthemselves,now.”Shehadslepttwelvehours,
andhershouldersachedfromweariness.“MaryWebster’sSarah’s
carriedacardforyears—so’severybody’scookinthistown.WhenCalpurnialeftIsimplycouldn’tbebotheredwithanotherone,notforjustAtticusandme.Keepinga
niggerhappythesedaysislikecateringtoaking—”MySaintedAuntistalking
likeMr.GradyO’Hanlon,wholefthisjobtodevotehisfulltimetothepreservationofsegregation.“—youhavetofetchand
toteforthemuntilyouwonderwho’swaitingonwho.It’sjustnotworththetroublethesedays—whereareyougoing?”
“Togetthelivingroomready.”Shesankintoadeep
armchairandconsideredhowalloccasionshadmadeherpoorindeed.Myauntisahostilestranger,myCalpurniawon’thaveanythingtodowithme,Hankisinsane,andAtticus—something’swrongwithme,it’ssomethingaboutme.Ithastobebecauseallthesepeoplecannothavechanged.
Whydoesn’ttheirfleshcreep?Howcantheydevoutlybelieveeverythingtheyhearinchurchandthensaythethingstheydoandlistentothethingstheyhearwithoutthrowingup?IthoughtIwasaChristianbutI’mnot.I’msomethingelseandIdon’tknowwhat.EverythingIhaveevertakenforrightandwrongthesepeoplehavetaughtme—thesesame,theseverypeople.So
it’sme,it’snotthem.Somethinghashappenedtome.Theyarealltryingtotell
meinsomeweird,echoingwaythatit’sallonaccountoftheNegroes…butit’snomoretheNegroesthanIcanflyandGodknows,Imightflyoutthewindowanytime,now.“Haven’tyoudonethe
livingroom?”Alexandrawasstandinginfrontofher.
JeanLouisegotupanddidthelivingroom.
THEMAGPIESARRIVEDat10:30,onschedule.JeanLouisestoodonthefrontstepsandgreetedthemonebyoneastheyentered.Theyworeglovesandhats,andsmelledtohighheavenofattars,perfumes,eaus,andbathpowder.TheirmakeupwouldhaveputanEgyptiandraftsmantoshame,andtheir
clothes—particularlytheirshoes—haddefinitelybeenpurchasedinMontgomeryorMobile:JeanLouisespottedA.Nachman,Gayfer’s,Levy’s,Hammel’s,onallsidesofthelivingroom.Whatdotheytalkabout
thesedays?JeanLouisehadlostherear,butshepresentlyrecoveredit.TheNewlywedschatteredsmuglyoftheirBobsandMichaels,ofhowtheyhadbeenmarriedtoBob
andMichaelforfourmonthsandBobandMichaelhadgainedtwentypoundsapiece.JeanLouisecrushedthetemptationtoenlightenheryoungguestsupontheprobableclinicalreasonsfortheirlovedones’rapidgrowth,andsheturnedherattentiontotheDiaperSet,whichdistressedherbeyondmeasure:WhenJerrywastwo
monthsoldhelookedupat
meandsaid…toilettrainingshouldreallybeginwhen…hewaschristenedhegrabbedMr.StonebythehairandMr.Stone…wetsthebednow.IbrokeherofthatthesametimeIbrokeherfromsuckingherfinger,with…thecu-utest,absolutelythecutestsweatshirtyou’veeverseen:it’sgotalittleredelephantand“CrimsonTide”writtenrightacrossthefront…andit
costusfivedollarstogetityankedout.TheLightBrigadesatto
theleftofher:intheirearlyandmiddlethirties,theydevotedmostoftheirfreetimetotheAmanuensisClub,bridge,andgettingone-uponeachotherinthematterofelectricalappliances:Johnsays…Calvinsays
it’sthe…kidneys,butAllentookmeofffriedthings…whenIgotcaughtinthat
zipperIliketohavenever…wonderwhatonearthmakesherthinkshecangetawaywithit…poorthing,ifIwereinherplaceI’dtake…shocktreatments,that’swhatshehad.Theysayshe…kicksbacktherugeverySaturdaynightwhenLawrenceWelkcomeson…andlaugh,IthoughtI’ddie!Therehewas,in…myoldweddingdress,andyouknow,Icanstillwearit.
JeanLouiselookedatthethreePerennialHopefulsonherright.TheywerejollyMaycombgirlsofexcellentcharacterwhohadnevermadethegrade.Theywerepatronizedbytheirmarriedcontemporaries,theywerevaguelyfeltsorryfor,andwereproducedtodateanystrayextramanwhohappenedtobevisitingtheirfriends.JeanLouiselookedatoneofthemwithacid
amusement:whenJeanLouisewasten,shemadeheronlyattempttojoinacrowd,andsheaskedSarahFinleyoneday,“CanIcometoseeyouthisafternoon?”“No,”saidSarah,“Mammasaysyou’retoorough.”Nowwearebothlonely,
forentirelydifferentreasons,butitfeelsthesame,doesn’tit?ThePerennialHopefuls
talkedquietlyamong
themselves:longestdayIeverhad…
inthebackofthebankbuilding…anewhouseoutontheroadby…theTrainingUnion,additallupandyouspendfourhourseverySundayinchurch…timesI’vetoldMr.FredIlikemytomatoes…boilinghot.Itold’emiftheydidn’tgetair-conditioninginthatofficeI’d…throwupthewholegame.
Nowwho’dwanttopullatricklikethat?JeanLouisethrewherself
intothebreach:“Stillatthebank,Sarah?”“Goodnessyes.Bethere
tillIdrop.”Um.“Ah,whatever
happenedtoJane—whatwasherlastname?Youknow,yourhighschoolfriend?”SarahandJaneWhat-Was-Her-Last-Namewereonceinseparable.
“Ohher.Shegotmarriedtoarightpeculiarboyduringthewarandnowsherollsherah’sso,you’dneverrecognizeher.”“Oh?Where’ssheliving
now?”“Mobile.Shewentto
Washingtonduringthewarandgotthishideousaccent.Everybodythoughtshewasputtin’onsobad,butnobodyhadthenervetotellhersoshestilldoesit.Remember
howsheusedtowalkwithherheadwayup,likethis?Shestilldoes.”“Shedoes?”“Uhhum.”Auntyhasheruses,damn
her,thoughtJeanLouisewhenshecaughtAlexandra’ssignal.Shewenttothekitchenandbroughtoutatrayofcocktailnapkins.Asshepassedthemdowntheline,JeanLouisefeltasifshewere
runningdownthekeysofagiganticharpsichord:Ineverinallmylife…
sawthatmarvelouspicture…witholdMr.Healy…lyingonthemantelpieceinfrontofmyeyesthewholetime…isit?Justabouteleven,Ithink…she’llwindupgettin’adivorce.Afterall,thewayhe…rubbedmybackeveryhourthewholeninthmonth…wouldhavekilledyou.Ifyoucouldhaveseenhim…
piddlingeveryfiveminutesduringthenight.Iputastop…toeverybodyinourclassexceptthathorridgirlfromOldSarum.Shewon’tknowthedifference…betweenthelines,butyouknowexactlywhathemeant.Backupthescalewiththe
sandwiches:Mr.Talbertlookedatme
andsaid…he’dneverlearntositonthepot…ofbeanseveryThursdaynight.That’s
theoneYankeethinghepickedupinthe…WaroftheRoses?No,honey,IsaidWarrenproposes…tothegarbagecollector.ThatwasallIcoulddoaftershegotthrough…therye.Ijustcouldn’thelpit,itmademefeellikeabig…A-men!I’llbesogladwhenthat’sover…thewayhe’streatedher…pilesandpilesofdiapers,andhesaidwhywasIsotired?Afterall,he’dbeen…inthe
filesthewholetime,that’swhereitwas.Alexandrawalkedbehind
her,mufflingthekeyswithcoffeeuntiltheysubsidedtoagentlehum.JeanLouisedecidedthattheLightBrigademightsuitherbest,andshedrewupahassockandjoinedthem.ShecutHesterSinclairfromthecovey:“How’sBill?”“Fine.Getshardertolive
witheveryday.Wasn’tthat
badaboutoldMr.Healythismorning?”“Certainlywas.”Hestersaid,“Didn’tthat
boyhavesomethingtodowithyouall?”“Yes.He’sourCalpurnia’s
grandson.”“Golly,Ineverknowwho
theyarethesedays,alltheyoungones.Reckonthey’lltryhimformurder?”“Manslaughter,Ishould
think.”
“Oh.”Hesterwasdisappointed.“Yes,Ireckonthat’sright.Hedidn’tmeantodoit.”“No,hedidn’tmeantodo
it.”Hesterlaughed.“AndI
thoughtwe’dhavesomeexcitement.”JeanLouise’sscalp
jumped.IguessI’mlosingmysenseofhumor,maybethat’swhatitis.I’mgettin’likeCousinEdgar.
Hesterwassaying,“—hasn’tbeenagoodtrialaroundhereintenyears.Goodniggertrial,Imean.Nothingbutcuttin’anddrinkin’.”“Doyouliketogoto
court?”“Sure.Wildestdivorce
caselastspringyoueversaw.SomeyapsfromOldSarum.It’sagoodthingJudgeTaylor’sdead—youknowhowhehatedthatsortof
thing,alwaysaskin’theladiestoleavethecourtroom.Thisnewonedoesn’tcare.Well—”“Excuseme,Hester.You
needsomemorecoffee.”Alexandrawascarryingthe
heavysilvercoffeepitcher.JeanLouisewatchedherpour.Shedoesn’tspilladrop.IfHankandI—Hank.Sheglanceddownthelong,
low-ceilingedlivingroomatthedoublerowofwomen,
womenshehadmerelyknownallherlife,andshecouldnottalktothemfiveminuteswithoutdryingupstonedead.Ican’tthinkofanythingtosaytothem.Theytalkincessantlyaboutthethingstheydo,andIdon’tknowhowtodothethingstheydo.Ifwemarried—ifImarriedanybodyfromthistown—thesewouldbemyfriends,andIcouldn’tthinkofathingtosaytothem.I
wouldbeJeanLouisetheSilent.Icouldn’tpossiblybringoffoneoftheseaffairsbymyself,andthere’sAuntyhavingthetimeofherlife.I’dbechurchedtodeath,bridge-partiedtodeath,calledupontogivebookreviewsattheAmanuensisClub,expectedtobecomeapartofthecommunity.IttakesalotofwhatIdon’thavetobeamemberofthiswedding.
“—amightysadthing,”Alexandrasaid,“butthat’sjustthewaytheyareandtheycan’thelpit.Calpurniawasthebestofthelot.ThatZeeboofhers,thatscamp’sstillinthetrees,butyouknow,Calpurniamadehimmarryeveryoneofhiswomen.Five,Ithink,butCalpurniamadehimmarryeveryoneof’em.That’sChristianitytothem.”
Hestersaid,“Younevercantellwhatgoesonintheirheads.MySophienow,onedayIaskedher,‘Sophie,’Isaid,‘whatdaydoesChristmascomeonthisyear?’Sophiescratchedthatwoolofhersandsaid,‘MissHester,Ithinksitcomesonthetwenty-fifththisyear.’Laugh,IthoughtI’ddie.Iwantedtoknowthedayoftheweek,notthedayoftheyear.Thi-ick!”
Humor,humor,humor,Ihavelostmysenseofhumor.I’mgettin’liketheNewYorkPost.“—butyouknowthey’re
stilldoingit.Stoppin’’emjustmade’emgounderground.Billsayshewouldn’tbesurprisediftherewasanotherNatTurnerUprisin’,we’resittin’onakegofdynamiteandwejustmightaswellbeready,”Hestersaid.
“Ahm,ah—Hester,ofcourseIdon’tknowmuchaboutit,butIthoughtthatMontgomerycrowdspentmostoftheirmeetingtimeinchurchpraying,”saidJeanLouise.“Ohmychild,don’tyou
knowthatwasjusttogetsympathyupintheEast?That’stheoldesttrickknowntomankind.YouknowKaiserBillprayedtoGodeverynightofhislife.”
AnabsurdversevibratedinJeanLouise’smemory.Wherehadshereadit?
ByrightDivine,mydearAugusta,
We’vehadanotherawfulbuster;
TenthousandFrenchmensentbelow.
PraiseGodfromWhomallblessingsflow.
ShewonderedwhereHesterhadpickedupherinformation.ShecouldnotconceiveofHesterSinclair’shavingreadanythingotherthanGoodHousekeepingsaveunderstrongduress.Someonehadtoldher.Who?“Goin’inforhistorythese
days,Hester?”“What?Oh,Iwasjust
sayin’whatmyBillsays.Bill,he’sadeepreader.Hesaystheniggerswhoare
runnin’thethingupnortharetryin’todoitlikeGandhididit,andyouknowwhatthatis.”“I’mafraidIdon’t.Whatis
it?”“Communism.”“Ah—Ithoughtthe
Communistswereallforviolentoverthrowandthatsortofthing.”Hestershookherhead.
“Where’veyoubeen,JeanLouise?Theyuseanymeans
theycantohelpthemselves.They’rejustliketheCatholics.YouknowhowtheCatholicsgodowntothoseplacesandpracticallygonativethemselvestogetconverts.Why,they’dsaySaintPaulwasaniggerjustlikethemifit’dconvertoneblackman.Billsays—hewasinthewardownthere,youknow—Billsayshecouldn’tfigureoutwhatwasvoo-dooandwhatwasR.C.onsome
ofthoseislands,thathewouldn’t’vebeensurprisedifhe’dseenavoo-doomanwithacollaron.It’sthesamewaywiththeCommunists.They’lldoanything,nomatterwhatitis,togetholdofthiscountry.They’reallaroundyou,youcan’ttellwho’soneandwhoisn’t.Why,evenhereinMaycombCounty—”JeanLouiselaughed.“Oh,
Hester,whatwouldthe
CommunistswantwithMaycombCounty?”“Idon’tknow,butIdo
knowthere’sacellrightuptheroadinTuscaloosa,andifitweren’tforthoseboysanigger’dbegoin’toclasseswiththerestof’em.”“Idon’tfollowyou,
Hester.”“Didn’tyoureadabout
thosefancyprofessorsaskingthosequestionsinthat—thatConvocation?Why,they’d’ve
letherrightin.Ifithadn’tbeenforthosefraternityboys….”“Golly,Hester.I’vebeen
readin’thewrongnewspaper.OneIreadsaidthemobwasfromthattirefactory—”“Whatdoyouread,the
Worker?”Youarefascinatedwith
yourself.Youwillsayanythingthatoccurstoyou,butwhatIcan’tunderstandarethethingsthatdooccurto
you.Ishouldliketotakeyourheadapart,putafactinit,andwatchitgoitswaythroughtherunnelsofyourbrainuntilitcomesoutofyourmouth.Wewerebothbornhere,wewenttothesameschools,weweretaughtthesamethings.Iwonderwhatyousawandheard.“—everybodyknowsthe
NAACP’sdedicatedtotheoverthrowoftheSouth…”
Conceivedinmistrust,anddedicatedtothepropositionthatallmenarecreatedevil.“—theymakenobones
aboutsayingtheywanttodoawaywiththeNegrorace,andtheywillinfourgenerations,Billsays,iftheystartwiththisone…”Ihopetheworldwilllittle
notenorlongrememberwhatyouaresayinghere.“—andanybodywho
thinksdifferent’seithera
Communistormightaswellbeone.Passiveresistance,myhindfoot…”Wheninthecourseof
humaneventsitbecomesnecessaryforonepeopletodissolvethepoliticalbandswhichhaveconnectedthemwithanothertheyareCommunists.“—theyalwayswantto
marryashadelighterthanthemselves,theywanttomongrelizetherace—”
JeanLouiseinterrupted.“Hester,letmeaskyousomething.I’vebeenhomesinceSaturdaynow,andsinceSaturdayI’veheardagreatdealoftalkaboutmongrelizin’therace,andit’sledmetowonderifthat’snotratheranunfortunatephrase,andifprobablyitshouldbediscardedfromSouthernjargonthesedays.Ittakestworacestomongrelizearace—ifthat’stherightword
—andwhenwewhitepeopleholleraboutmongrelizin’,isn’tthatsomethingofareflectiononourselvesasarace?ThemessageIgetfromitisthatifitwerelawful,there’dbeawholesalerushtomarryNegroes.IfIwereascholar,whichIain’t,Iwouldsaythatkindoftalkhasadeeppsychologicalsignificancethat’snotparticularlyflatteringtotheonewhotalksit.Atitsbest,it
denotesanalarmin’mistrustofone’sownrace.”HesterlookedatJean
Louise.“I’msureIdon’tknowwhatyoumean,”shesaid.“I’mnotsureofwhatI
mean,either,”saidJeanLouise,“exceptthehaircurlsonmyheadeverytimeIheartalklikethat.IguessitwasbecauseIwasn’tbroughtuphearingit.”
Hesterbristled:“Areyouinsinuating—”“I’msorry,”saidJean
Louise.“Ididn’tmeanthat.Idobegyourpardon.”“JeanLouise,whenIsaid
thatIwasn’treferringtous.”“Whowereyoutalking
about,then?”“Iwastalkingaboutthe—
youknow,thetrashypeople.ThemenwhokeepNegrowomenandthatkindofthing.”
JeanLouisesmiled.“That’sodd.Ahundredyearsagothegentlemenhadcoloredwomen,nowthetrashhavethem.”“Thatwaswhenthey
owned’em,silly.No,thetrashiswhattheNAACP’safter.Theywanttogettheniggersmarriedtothatclassandkeeponuntilthewholesocialpattern’sdoneawaywith.”
Socialpattern.DoubleWeddingRingquilts.Shecouldnothavehatedus,andAtticuscannotbelievethiskindoftalk.I’msorry,it’simpossible.SinceyesterdayIfeellikeI’mbeingwaddeddownintothebottomofadeep,deep“WELL,HOW’SNEW
YORK?”NewYork.NewYork?I’ll
tellyouhowNewYorkis.NewYorkhasallthe
answers.PeoplegototheYMHA,theEnglish-SpeakingUnion,CarnegieHall,theNewSchoolforSocialResearch,andfindtheanswers.Thecitylivesbyslogans,isms,andfastsureanswers.NewYorkissayingtomerightnow:you,JeanLouiseFinch,arenotreactingaccordingtoourdoctrinesregardingyourkind,thereforeyoudonotexist.Thebestmindsinthecountryhave
tolduswhoyouare.Youcan’tescapeit,andwedon’tblameyouforit,butwedoaskyoutoconductyourselfwithintherulesthatthosewhoknowhavelaiddownforyourbehavior,anddon’ttrytobeanythingelse.Sheanswered:please
believeme,whathashappenedinmyfamilyisnotwhatyouthink.Icansayonlythis—thateverythingIlearnedabouthumandecency
Ilearnedhere.Ilearnednothingfromyouexcepthowtobesuspicious.Ididn’tknowwhathatewasuntilIlivedamongyouandsawyouhatingeveryday.Theyevenhadtopasslawstokeepyoufromhating.Idespiseyourquickanswers,yourslogansinthesubways,andmostofallIdespiseyourlackofgoodmanners:you’llneverhave’emaslongasyouexist.
Themanwhocouldnotbediscourteoustoaground-squirrelhadsatinthecourthouseabettingthecauseofgrubby-mindedlittlemen.ManytimesshehadseenhiminthegrocerystorewaitinghisturninlinebehindNegroesandGodknowswhat.ShehadseenMr.Fredraisehiseyebrowsathim,andherfathershakehisheadinreply.Hewasthekindofmanwhoinstinctivelywaited
histurn;hehadmanners.Looksister,weknowthe
facts:youspentthefirsttwenty-oneyearsofyourlifeinthelynchingcountry,inacountywhosepopulationistwo-thirdsagriculturalNegro.Sodroptheact.Youwillnotbelieveme,
butIwilltellyou:neverinmylifeuntiltodaydidIheartheword“nigger”spokenbyamemberofmyfamily.NeverdidIlearntothinkin
termsofTheNiggers.WhenIgrewup,andIdidgrowupwithblackpeople,theywereCalpurnia,Zeebothegarbagecollector,Tomtheyardman,andwhateverelsetheirnameswere.TherewerehundredsofNegroessurroundingme,theywerehandsinthefields,whochoppedthecotton,whoworkedtheroads,whosawedthelumbertomakeourhouses.Theywerepoor,theywerediseasedanddirty,some
werelazyandshiftless,butneverinmylifewasIgiventheideathatIshoulddespiseone,shouldfearone,shouldbediscourteoustoone,orthinkthatIcouldmistreatoneandgetawaywithit.Theyasapeopledidnotentermyworld,nordidIentertheirs:whenIwenthuntingIdidnottrespassonaNegro’sland,notbecauseitwasaNegro’s,butbecauseIwasnotsupposedtotrespasson
anybody’sland.Iwastaughtnevertotakeadvantageofanybodywhowaslessfortunatethanmyself,whetherhebelessfortunateinbrains,wealth,orsocialposition;itmeantanybody,notjustNegroes.Iwasgiventounderstandthatthereversewastobedespised.ThatisthewayIwasraised,byablackwomanandawhiteman.
Youmusthavelivedit.Ifamansaystoyou,“Thisisthetruth,”andyoubelievehim,andyoudiscoverwhathesaysisnotthetruth,youaredisappointedandyoumakesureyouwillnotbecaughtoutbyhimagain.Butamanwhohaslived
bytruth—andyouhavebelievedinwhathehaslived—hedoesnotleaveyoumerelywarywhenhefailsyou,heleavesyouwith
nothing.IthinkthatiswhyI’mnearlyoutofmymind….“NewYork?It’llalwaysbe
there.”JeanLouiseturnedtoherinquisitor,ayoungwomanwithasmallhat,smallfeatures,andsmallsharpteeth.ShewasClaudineMcDowell.“FletcherandIwereup
therelastspringandwetriedtogetyoudayandnight.”I’llbetyoudid.“Didyou
enjoyit?No,don’ttellme,let
metellyou:youhadamarveloustimebutyouwouldn’tdreamoflivingthere.”Claudineshowedher
mouse-teeth.“Absolutely!How’dyouguessthat?”“I’mpsychic.Didyoudo
thetown?”“Lordyes.Wewenttothe
LatinQuarter,theCopacabana,andThePajamaGame.Thatwasthefirststageshowwe’deverseen
andwewererightdisappointedinit.Aretheyalllikethat?”“Mostof’em.Didyougo
tothetopoftheyou-know-what?”“No,butwedidgothrough
RadioCity.Youknow,peoplecouldliveinthatplace.WesawastageshowatRadioCityMusicHall,andJeanLouise,ahorsecameoutonthestage.”
JeanLouisesaidshewasn’tsurprised.“FletcherandIsurelywere
gladtogetbackhome.Idon’tseehowyoulivethere.Fletcherspentmoremoneyupthereintwoweeksthanwespendinsixmonthsdownhere.Fletchersaidhecouldn’tseewhyonearthpeoplelivedinthatplacewhentheycouldhaveahouseandayardforfarlessdownhere.”
Icantellyou.InNewYorkyouareyourownperson.YoumayreachoutandembraceallofManhattaninsweetaloneness,oryoucangotohellifyouwantto.“Well,”saidJeanLouise,
“ittakesconsiderablegettingusedto.Ihateditfortwoyears.ItintimidatedmedailyuntilonemorningwhensomeonepushedmeonabusandIpushedback.AfterI
pushedbackIrealizedI’dbecomeapartofit.”“Pushing,that’swhatthey
are.Theyhavenomannersupthere,”saidClaudine.“Theyhavemanners,
Claudine.They’rejustdifferentfromours.Thepersonwhopushedmeonthebusexpectedtobepushedback.That’swhatIwassupposedtodo;it’sjustagame.Youwon’tfindbetterpeoplethaninNewYork.”
Claudinepursedherlips.“Well,Iwouldn’twanttogetmixedupwithallthoseItaliansandPuertoRicans.InadrugstoreonedayIlookedaroundandtherewasaNegrowomaneatingherdinnerrightnexttome,rightnexttome.OfcourseIknewshecould,butitdidgivemeashock.”“Didshehurtyouinany
way?”
“Reckonshedidn’t.Igotuprealquickandleft.”“Youknow,”saidJean
Louisegently,“theygoaroundlooseupthere,allkindsoffolks.”Claudinehunchedher
shoulders.“Idon’tseehowyouliveuptherewiththem.”“Youaren’tawareofthem.
Youworkwiththem,eatbyandwiththem,ridethebuseswiththem,andyouaren’tawareofthemunlessyou
wanttobe.Idon’tknowthatagreatbigfatNegroman’sbeensittingbesidemeonabusuntilIgetuptoleave.Youjustdon’tnoticeit.”“Well,Icertainlynoticed
it.Youmustbeblindorsomething.”Blind,that’swhatIam.I
neveropenedmyeyes.Ineverthoughttolookintopeople’shearts,Ilookedonlyintheirfaces.Stoneblind…Mr.Stone.Mr.Stoneseta
watchmaninchurchyesterday.Heshouldhaveprovidedmewithone.Ineedawatchmantoleadmearoundanddeclarewhatheseetheveryhouronthehour.Ineedawatchmantotellmethisiswhatamansaysbutthisiswhathemeans,todrawalinedownthemiddleandsayhereisthisjusticeandthereisthatjusticeandmakemeunderstandthedifference.Ineedawatchmantogoforth
andproclaimtothemallthattwenty-sixyearsistoolongtoplayajokeonanybody,nomatterhowfunnyitis.
14
“AUNTY,”SAIDJEANLouise,whentheyhadclearedawaytherubbleofthemorning’sdevastation,“ifyoudon’twantthecarI’mgoingaroundtoUncleJack’s.”“AllIwant’sanap.Don’t
youwantsomedinner?”
“Noma’am.UncleJack’llgivemeasandwichorsomething.”“Betternotcountonit.He
eatslessandlessthesedays.”ShestoppedthecarinDr.
Finch’sdriveway,climbedthehighfrontstepstohishouse,knockedonthedoor,andwentin,singinginaraucousvoice:
“OldUncleJackwithhiscaneandhiscrutch
Whenhewasyoungheboogie-woogiedtoomuch;
Putthesalestaxonit—”
Dr.Finch’shousewassmall,butthefronthallwaywasenormous.Atonetimeitwasadog-trothall,butDr.Finchhadsealeditinandbuiltbookshelvesaroundthewalls.Hecalledfromtherearof
thehouse,“Iheardthat,you
vulgargirl.I’minthekitchen.”Shewalkeddownthehall,
throughadoor,andcametowhatwasonceanopenbackporch.Itwasnowsomethingfaintlylikeastudy,asweremostoftheroomsinhishouse.Shehadneverseenashelterthatreflectedsostronglythepersonalityofitsowner.Aneeriequalityofuntidinessprevailedamidorder:Dr.Finchkepthis
housemilitarilyspotless,butbookstendedtopileupwhereverhesatdown,andbecauseitwashishabittositdownanywherehegotready,thereweresmallstacksofbooksinoddplacesaboutthehousethatwereaconstantcursetohiscleaningwoman.Hewouldnotlethertouchthem,andheinsistedonapple-pieneatness,sothepoorcreaturewasobligedtovacuum,dust,andpolish
aroundthem.OneunfortunatemaidlostherheadandlosthisplaceinTuckwell’sPre-TractarianOxford,andDr.Finchshookabroomather.Whenheruncleappeared,
JeanLouisethoughtstylesmaycomeandstylesmaygo,butheandAtticuswillclingtotheirvestsforever.Dr.Finchwascoatless,andinhisarmswasRoseAylmer,hisoldcat.
“Wherewereyouyesterday,intheriveragain?”Helookedathersharply.“Stickoutyourtongue.”JeanLouisestuckouther
tongue,andDr.FinchshiftedRoseAylmertothecrookofhisrightelbow,fishedinhisvestpocket,broughtoutapairofhalf-glasses,flickedthemopen,andclappedthemtohisface.“Well,don’tleaveitthere.
Putitback,”hesaid.“You
looklikehell.Comeontothekitchen.”“Ididn’tknowyouhad
half-glasses,UncleJack,”saidJeanLouise.“Hah—IdiscoveredIwas
wastingmoney.”“How?”“Lookingovermyold
ones.Thesecosthalfasmuch.”Atablestoodinthecenter
ofDr.Finch’skitchen,andonthetablewasasaucer
containingacrackeruponwhichrestedasolitarysardine.JeanLouisegaped.“Isthat
yourdinner?Honestly,UncleJack,canyoupossiblygetanyweirder?”Dr.Finchdrewahighstool
tothetable,depositedRoseAylmeruponit,andsaid,“No.Yes.”JeanLouiseandheruncle
satdownatthetable.Dr.Finchpickedupthecracker
andsardineandpresentedthemtoRoseAylmer.RoseAylmertookasmallbite,putherheaddown,andchewed.“Sheeatslikeahuman,”
saidJeanLouise.“IhopeI’vetaughther
manners,”saidDr.Finch.“She’ssooldnowIhavetofeedherbitbybit.”“Whydon’tyouputherto
sleep?”Dr.Finchlooked
indignantlyathisniece.
“WhyshouldI?What’sthematterwithher?She’sgotagoodtenyearsyet.”JeanLouisesilentlyagreed
andwished,comparativelyspeaking,thatshewouldlookasgoodasRoseAylmerwhenshewasasold.RoseAylmer’syellowcoatwasinexcellentrepair;shestillhadherfigure;hereyeswerebright.Shesleptmostofherlifenow,andonceadayDr.
Finchwalkedheraroundthebackyardonaleash.Dr.Finchpatiently
persuadedtheoldcattofinishherlunch,andwhenshehaddonesohewenttoacabinetoverthesinkandtookoutabottle.Itscapwasamedicinedropper.Hedrewupamightyportionofthefluid,setthebottledown,caughtthebackofthecat’shead,andtoldRoseAylmertoopenhermouth.Thecatobeyed.She
gulpedandshookherhead.Dr.Finchdrewmorefluidintothedropperandsaid,“Openyourmouth,”toJeanLouise.JeanLouisegulpedand
spluttered.“DearLord,whatwasthat?”“VitaminC.Iwantyouto
letAllenhavealookatyou.”JeanLouisesaidshe
would,andaskedherunclewhatwasonhismindthesedays.
Dr.Finch,stoopingattheoven,said,“Sibthorp.”“Sir?”Dr.Finchtookfromthe
ovenawoodensaladbowlfilled,toJeanLouise’samazement,withgreens.Ihopeitwasn’ton.“Sibthorp,girl.Sibthorp,”
hesaid.“RichardWaldoSibthorp.RomanCatholicpriest.BuriedwithfullChurchofEnglandceremonials.Tryin’tofind
anotheronelikehim.Highlysignificant.”JeanLouisewas
accustomedtoheruncle’sbrandofintellectualshorthand:itwashiscustomtostateoneortwoisolatedfacts,andaconclusionseeminglyunsupportedthereby.Slowlyandsurely,ifproddedcorrectly,Dr.Finchwouldunwindthereelofhisstrangeloretoreveal
reasoningthatglitteredwithaprivatelightofitsown.Butshewasnottheretobe
entertainedwiththevacillationsofaminorVictorianesthete.Shewatchedherunclemaneuversaladgreens,oliveoil,vinegar,andseveralingredientsunknowntoherwiththesameprecisionandassurancesheemployedonadifficultosteotomy.He
dividedthesaladintotwoplatesandsaid,“Eat,child.”Dr.Finchchewed
ferociouslyonhislunchandeyedhisniece,whowasarranginglettuce,hunksofavocado,greenpepper,andonionsinaneatrowonherplate.“Allright,what’sthematter?Areyoupregnant?”“Graciousno,UncleJack.”“That’sabouttheonly
thingIcanthinkofthatworriesyoungwomenthese
days.Doyouwanttotellme?”Hisvoicesoftened.“Comeon,oldScout.”JeanLouise’seyesblurred
withtears.“What’sbeenhappening,UncleJack?WhatisthematterwithAtticus?IthinkHankandAuntyhavelosttheirmindsandIknowI’mlosingmine.”“Ihaven’tnoticedanything
thematterwiththem.ShouldI?”
“Youshouldhaveseenthemsittinginthatmeetingyesterday—”JeanLouiselookedupat
heruncle,whowasbalancinghimselfdangerouslyonthebacklegsofhischair.Heputhishandsonthetabletosteadyhimself,hisincisivefeaturesmelted,hiseyebrowsshotup,helaughedloudly.Thefrontlegsofhischaircamedownwithabang,andhesubsidedintochuckles.
JeanLouiseraged.Shegotupfromthetable,tippedoverherchair,restoredit,andwalkedtothedoor.“Ididn’tcomeheretobemadefunof,UncleJack,”shesaid.“Ohsitdownandshutup,”
saidheruncle.Helookedatherwithgenuineinterest,asifsheweresomethingunderamicroscope,asthoughsheweresomemedicalmarvelthathadinadvertentlymaterializedinhiskitchen.
“AsIsithereandbreathe,IneverthoughtthegoodGodwouldletmelivetoseesomeonewalkintothemiddleofarevolution,pullalugubriousface,andsay,‘What’sthematter?’”Helaughedagain,shakinghishead.“Matter,child?I’lltellyou
what’sthematterifyoucollectyourselfandrefrainfromcarryingonlike—arum!—Iwonderifyoureyesand
earsevermakeanythingsavespasmodiccontactwithyourbrain.”Hisfacetightened.“Youwon’tbepleasedwithsomeofit,”hesaid.“Idon’tcarewhatitis,
UncleJack,ifyou’llonlytellmewhat’sturnedmyfatherintoanigger-hater.”“Holdyourtongue.”Dr.
Finch’svoicewasstern.“Don’tyouevercallyourfatherthat.Idetestthesoundofitasmuchasitsmatter.”
“WhatamItocallhim,then?”Herunclesighedatlength.
Hewenttothestoveandturnedonthefrontburnerunderthecoffeepot.“Letusconsiderthiscalmly,”hesaid.WhenheturnedaroundJeanLouisesawamusementbanishtheindignationinhiseyes,thenmeldintoanexpressionshecouldnotread.Sheheardhimmutter,“Oh
dear.Ohdearme,yes.Thenovelmusttellastory.”“Whatdoyoumeanby
that?”shesaid.Sheknewhewasquotingatherbutshedidn’tknowwhat,shedidn’tknowwhy,andshedidn’tcare.Herunclecouldannoythehelloutofherwhenhechose,apparentlyhewaschoosingtodosonow,andsheresentedit.“Nothing.”Hesatdown,
tookoffhisglasses,and
returnedthemtohisvestpocket.Hespokedeliberately.“Baby,”hesaid,“allovertheSouthyourfatherandmenlikeyourfatherarefightingasortofrearguard,delayingactiontopreserveacertainkindofphilosophythat’salmostgonedownthedrain—”“Ifit’swhatIheard
yesterdayIsaygoodriddance.”
Dr.Finchlookedup.“You’remakingabadmistakeifyouthinkyourdaddy’sdedicatedtokeepingtheNegroesintheirplaces.”JeanLouiseraisedher
handsandhervoice:“WhatthehellamItothink?Itmademesick,UncleJack.Plain-outsick—”Herunclescratchedhisear.
“Younodoubt,somewherealongtheline,havehadcertainhistoricalfactsand
nuancesplacedinfrontofyou—”“UncleJack,don’thand
methatkindoftalknow—fightin’theWarhasnothingtodowithit.”“Onthecontrary,ithasa
greatdealtodowithitifyouwanttounderstand.Thefirstthingyoumustrealizeissomething—Godhelpus,itwassomething—thatthree-fourthsofanationhavefailedtothisdaytounderstand.
Whatkindofpeoplewerewe,JeanLouise?Whatkindofpeoplearewe?Whoarewestillclosesttointhisworld?”“Ithoughtwewerejust
people.Ihavenoidea.”Herunclesmiled,andan
unholylightappearedinhiseyes.He’sgonnaskateoffnow,shethought.Icannevercatchhimandbringhimback.“ConsiderMaycomb
County,”saidDr.Finch.“It’s
typicalSouth.Hasitneverstruckyouasbeingsingularthatnearlyeverybodyinthecountyiseitherkinoralmostkintoeverybodyelse?”“UncleJack,howcan
someonebealmostkintosomeoneelse?”“Quitesimple.You
rememberFrankBuckland,don’tyou?”Inspiteofherself,Jean
Louisefeltshewasbeingluredslowlyandstealthily
intoDr.Finch’sweb.Heisawonderfuloldspider,butneverthelessheisaspider.Sheinchedtowardhim:“FrankBuckland?”“Thenaturalist.Carried
deadfisharoundinhissuitcaseandkeptajackalinhisrooms.”“Yessir?”“YourememberMatthew
Arnold,don’tyou?”Shesaidshedid.
“Well,FrankBucklandwasMatthewArnold’sfather’ssister’shusband’sbrother’sson,therefore,theywerealmostkin.See?”“Yessir,but—”Dr.Finchlookedatthe
ceiling.“Wasn’tmynephewJem,”hesaidslowly,“engagedtomarryhisgreat-uncle’sson’swife’ssecondcousin?”Sheputherhandsoverher
eyesandthoughtfuriously.
“Hewas,”shefinallysaid.“UncleJack,Ithinkyou’vemadeanonsequiturbutI’mnotatallpositive.”“Allthesamething,
really.”“ButIdon’tgetthe
connection.”Dr.Finchputhishandson
thetable.“That’sbecauseyouhaven’tlooked,”hesaid.“You’veneveropenedyoureyes.”JeanLouisejumped.
Herunclesaid,“JeanLouise,therearetothisdayinMaycombCountythelivingcounterpartsofeverybutt-headedCelt,Angle,andSaxonwhoeverdrewabreath.YourememberDeanStanley,don’tyou?”Theywerecomingbackto
her,thedaysoftheendlesshours.Shewasinthishouse,infrontofawarmfire,beingreadtofrommustybooks.Heruncle’svoicewasits
usuallowgrowl,orpitchedhighwithhelplesslaughter.Theabsentminded,fluff-hairedlittleclergymanandhisstalwartwifedriftedintohermemory.“Doesn’theremindyouof
FinkSewell?”“Nosir,”shesaid.“Think,girl.Think.Since
youarenotthinking,I’llgiveyouahint.WhenStanleywasDeanofWestminsterhedugupnearlyeverybodyinthe
AbbeylookingforJamestheFirst.”“OhmyGod,”shesaid.DuringtheDepression,Mr.
FinckneySewell,aMaycombresidentlongnotedforhisindependenceofmind,disentombedhisowngrandfatherandextractedallhisgoldteethtopayoffamortgage.Whenthesheriffapprehendedhimforgrave-robberyandgold-hoarding,Mr.Finkdemurredonthe
theorythatifhisowngrandfatherwasn’this,whosewashe?ThesheriffsaidoldMr.M.F.Sewellwasinthepublicdomain,butMr.Finksaidtestilyhesupposeditwashiscemeterylot,hisgranddaddy,andhisteeth,anddeclinedforthwithtobearrested.PublicopinioninMaycombwaswithhim:Mr.Finkwasanhonorableman,hewastryinghisbesttopay
hisdebts,andthelawmolestedhimnofurther.“Stanleyhadthehighest
historicalmotivesforhisexcavations,”musedDr.Finch,“buttheirmindsworkedexactlyalike.Youcan’tdenyheinvitedeveryheretichecouldlayhandsontopreachintheAbbey.IbelieveheoncegavecommuniontoMrs.AnnieBesant.Yourememberhow
hesupportedBishopColenso.”Sheremembered.Bishop
Colenso,whoseviewsoneverythingwereconsideredunsoundthatdayandarearchaicinthis,wasthelittledean’sparticularpet.Colensowastheobjectofacrimoniousdebatewherevertheclergygathered,andStanleyoncemadearingingConvocationspeechinhisdefense,askingthatbodywasitawarethat
ColensowastheonlycolonialbishopwhohadbotheredtotranslatetheBibleintoZulu,whichwasrathermorethantheresthaddone.“Finkwasjustlikehim,”
saidDr.Finch.“HesubscribedtotheWallStreetJournalinthedepthsoftheDepressionanddaredanybodytosayawordaboutit.”Dr.Finchchuckled.“JakeJeddoatthepostofficenearly
hadaspasmeverytimeheputthemailup.”JeanLouisestaredather
uncle.Shesatinhiskitchen,inthemiddleoftheAtomicAge,andinthedeepestrecessesofherconsciousnesssheknewthatDr.Finchwasoutrageouslycorrectinhiscomparisons.“—justlikehim,”Dr.
Finchwassaying,“ortakeHarrietMartineau—”
JeanLouisefoundherselftreadingwaterintheLakeDistrict.Sheflounderedtokeepherheadup.“DoyourememberMrs.E.
C.B.Franklin?”Shedid.Shegroped
throughtheyearsforMissMartineau,butMrs.E.C.B.waseasy:sherememberedacrochetedtam,acrocheteddressthroughwhichpeepedpinkcrocheteddrawers,andcrochetedstockings.Every
SaturdayMrs.E.C.B.walkedthreemilestotownfromherfarm,whichwascalledCapeJessamineCopse.Mrs.E.C.B.wrotepoetry.Dr.Finchsaid,“Remember
theminorwomenpoets?”“Yessir,”shesaid.“Well?”Whenshewasachildshe
haddeviledforawhileattheMaycombTribuneofficeandhadwitnessedseveralaltercations,includingthe
last,betweenMrs.E.C.B.andMr.Underwood.Mr.Underwoodwasanold-timeprinterandstoodfornononsense.HeworkedalldayatavastblackLinotype,refreshinghimselfatintervalsfromagallonjugcontainingharmlesscherrywine.OneSaturdayMrs.E.C.B.stalkedintotheofficewithaneffusionMr.Underwoodsaidherefusedtodisgracethe
Tribunewith:itwasacowobituaryinverse,beginning:
OkinenolongermineWiththosebigbrowneyesofthine….
andcontaininggravebreachesofChristianphilosophy.Mr.Underwoodsaid,“Cowsdon’tgotoheaven,”towhichMrs.E.C.B.replied,“Thisonedid,”andexplainedpoetic
license.Mr.Underwood,whoinhistimehadpublishedmemorialversesofindeterminatevariety,saidhestillcouldn’tprintthisbecauseitwasblasphemousanddidn’tscan.Furious,Mrs.E.C.B.unlockedaframeandscatteredtheBiggsStoreadallovertheoffice.Mr.Underwoodinhaledlikeawhale,drankanenormousslugofcherrywineinherface,swalloweditdown,and
cursedherallthewaytothecourthousesquare.Afterthat,Mrs.E.C.B.composedverseforherprivateedification.Thecountyfelttheloss.“Nowareyouwillingto
concedethatthereissomefaintconnection,notnecessarilybetweentwoeccentrics,butwitha—um—generalturnofmindthatexistsinsomequartersacrossthewater?”
JeanLouisethrewinthetowel.Dr.Finchsaidmoreto
himselfthantohisniece,“Inthe1770swheredidthewhite-hotwordscomefrom?”“Virginia,”saidJean
Louise,confidently.“Andinthe1940s,before
wegotintoit,whatmadeeverySouthernerreadhisnewspaperandlistentonewscastswithaspecialkindofhorror?Tribalfeelin’,
honey,atthebottomofit.Theymightbesonsofbitches,theBritish,buttheywereoursonsofbitches—”Dr.Finchcaughthimself.
“Gobacknow,”hesaidbriskly.“Gobacktotheearly1800sinEngland,beforesomepervertinventedmachinery.Whatwaslifethere?”JeanLouiseanswered
automatically,“Asocietyofdukesandbeggars—”
“Hah!YouarenotsofarcorruptedasIthought,ifyoustillrememberCarolineLamb,poorthing.You’vealmostgotit,butnotquite:itwasmainlyanagriculturalsociety,withahandfuloflandownersandmultitudesoftenants.Now,whatwastheSouthbeforetheWar?”“Anagriculturalsociety
withahandfuloflargelandowners,multitudesofdirtfarmers,andslaves.”
“Correct.Leavetheslavesoutofitforawhile,andwhatdoyouhave?YourWadeHamptonsbythescores,andyoursmalllandownersandtenantsbythethousands.TheSouthwasalittleEnglandinitsheritageandsocialstructure.Now,whatistheonethingthathasbeatintheheartofeveryAnglo-Saxon—don’tcringe,Iknowit’sadirtywordthesedays—nomatterwhathisconditionor
statusinlife,nomatterwhatthebarriersofignorance,sincehestoppedpaintinghimselfblue?”“Heisproud.He’ssortof
stubborn.”“You’redamnright.What
else?”“I—Idon’tknow.”“Whatwasitthatmadethe
ragtaglittleConfederateArmythelastofitskind?Whatmadeitsoweak,butso
powerfulitworkedmiracles?”“Ah—RobertE.Lee?”“GoodGod,girl!”shouted
heruncle.“Itwasanarmyofindividuals!TheywalkedofftheirfarmsandwalkedtotheWar!”Asiftostudyarare
specimen,Dr.Finchproducedhisglasses,putthemon,tiltedhisheadback,andlookedather.“Nomachine,”hesaid,“whenit’sbeencrushedto
powder,putsitselftogetheragainandticks,butthosedrybonesroseupandmarchedandhowtheymarched.Why?”“Ireckonitwastheslaves
andtariffsandthings.Ineverthoughtaboutitmuch.”Dr.Finchsaidsoftly,
“JehovahGod.”Hemadeavisibleeffortto
masterhistemperbygoingtothestoveandsilencingthecoffeepot.Hepouredouttwo
cupsofblisteringblackbrewandbroughtthemtothetable.“JeanLouise,”hesaid
dryly,“notmuchmorethanfivepercentoftheSouth’spopulationeversawaslave,muchlessownedone.Now,somethingmusthaveirritatedtheotherninety-fivepercent.”JeanLouiselookedblankly
atheruncle.“Hasitneveroccurredto
you—haveyounever,
somewherealongtheline,receivedvibrationstotheeffect—thatthisterritorywasaseparatenation?Nomatterwhatitspoliticalbonds,anationwithitsownpeople,existingwithinanation?Asocietyhighlyparadoxical,withalarminginequities,butwiththeprivatehonorofthousandsofpersonswinkinglikelightningbugsthroughthenight?Nowarwaseverfoughtforsomanydifferent
reasonsmeetinginonereasonclearascrystal.Theyfoughttopreservetheiridentity.Theirpoliticalidentity,theirpersonalidentity.”Dr.Finch’svoicesoftened.
“Itseemsquixotictoday,withjetairplanesandoverdosesofNembutal,thatamanwouldgothroughawarforsomethingsoinsignificantashisstate.”Heblinked.“No,Scout,
thoseraggedignorantpeople
foughtuntiltheywerenearlyexterminatedtomaintainsomethingthatthesedaysseemstobethesoleprivilegeofartistsandmusicians.”Asitrolledby,JeanLouise
madeafranticdiveforheruncle’strolley:“That’sbeenoverfora—nearlyahundredyears,sir.”Dr.Finchgrinned.“Hasit
really?Itdependshowyoulookatit.IfyouweresittingonthesidewalkinParis,
you’dsaycertainly.Butlookagain.Theremnantsofthatlittlearmyhadchildren—God,howtheymultiplied—theSouthwentthroughtheReconstructionwithonlyonepermanentpoliticalchange:therewasnomoreslavery.Thepeoplebecamenolessthanwhattheyweretobeginwith—insomecasestheybecamehorrifyinglymore.Theywereneverdestroyed.Theyweregroundintothe
dirtanduptheypopped.UppoppedTobaccoRoad,anduppoppedtheugliest,mostshamefulaspectofitall—thebreedofwhitemanwholivedinopeneconomiccompetitionwithfreedNegroes.“Foryearsandyearsall
thatmanthoughthehadthatmadehimanybetterthanhisblackbrotherswasthecolorofhisskin.Hewasjustasdirty,hesmelledjustasbad,
hewasjustaspoor.Nowadayshe’sgotmorethanheeverhadinhislife,hehaseverythingbutbreeding,he’sfreedhimselffromeverystigma,buthesitsnursinghishangoverofhatred….”Dr.Finchgotupand
pouredmorecoffee.JeanLouisewatchedhim.GoodLord,shethought,myowngrandfatherfoughtinit.HisandAtticus’sdaddy.Hewasonlyachild.Hesawthe
corpsesstackedandwatchedthebloodruninlittlestreamsdownShiloh’shill….“Nowthen,Scout,”said
heruncle.“Now,atthisveryminute,apoliticalphilosophyforeigntoitisbeingpressedontheSouth,andtheSouth’snotreadyforit—we’refindingourselvesinthesamedeepwaters.Assureastime,historyisrepeatingitself,andassureasmanisman,historyisthelastplacehe’lllookfor
hislessons.IhopetoGodit’llbeacomparativelybloodlessReconstructionthistime.”“Idon’tunderstand.”“Lookattherestofthe
country.It’slongsincegonebytheSouthinitsthinking.Thetime-honored,common-lawconceptofproperty—aman’sinterestinanddutiestothatproperty—hasbecomealmostextinct.People’sattitudestowardthedutiesofagovernmenthavechanged.
Thehave-notshaverisenandhavedemandedandreceivedtheirdue—sometimesmorethantheirdue.Thehavesarerestrictedfromgettingmore.Youareprotectedfromthewinterwindsofoldage,notbyyourselfvoluntarily,butbyagovernmentthatsayswedonottrustyoutoprovideforyourself,thereforewewillmakeyousave.Allkindsofstrangelittlethingslikethathavebecomepartandparcel
ofthiscountry’sgovernment.America’sabravenewAtomicworldandtheSouth’sjustbeginningitsIndustrialRevolution.Haveyoulookedaroundyouinthepastsevenoreightyearsandseenanewclassofpeopledownhere?”“Newclass?”“Goodgrief,child.Where
areyourtenantfarmers?Infactories.Whereareyourfieldhands?Sameplace.Haveyouevernoticedwho
areinthoselittlewhitehousesontheothersideoftown?Maycomb’snewclass.Thesameboysandgirlswhowenttoschoolwithyouandgrewupontinyfarms.Yourowngeneration.”Dr.Finchpulledhisnose.
“ThosepeoplearetheapplesoftheFederalGovernment’seye.Itlendsthemmoneytobuildtheirhouses,itgivesthemafreeeducationforservinginitsarmies,it
providesfortheiroldageandassuresthemofseveralweeks’supportiftheylosetheirjobs—”“UncleJack,youarea
cynicaloldman.”“Cynical,hell.I’ma
healthyoldmanwithaconstitutionalmistrustofpaternalismandgovernmentinlargedoses.Yourfather’sthesame—”“Ifyoutellmethatpower
tendstocorruptandabsolute
powercorruptsabsolutelyIwillthrowthiscoffeeatyou.”“TheonlythingI’mafraid
ofaboutthiscountryisthatitsgovernmentwillsomedaybecomesomonstrousthatthesmallestpersoninitwillbetrampledunderfoot,andthenitwouldn’tbeworthlivingin.TheonlythinginAmericathatisstilluniqueinthistiredworldisthatamancangoasfarashisbrainswilltakehimorhecangotohellifhe
wantsto,butitwon’tbethatwaymuchlonger.”Dr.Finchgrinnedlikea
friendlyweasel.“Melbournesaidonce,thattheonlyrealdutiesofgovernmentweretopreventcrimeandpreservecontracts,towhichIwilladdonethingsinceIfindmyselfreluctantlyinthetwentiethcentury:andtoprovideforthecommondefense.”“That’sacloudy
statement.”
“Indeeditis.Itleavesuswithsomuchfreedom.”JeanLouiseputherelbows
onthetableandranherfingersthroughherhair.Somethingwasthematterwithhim.Hewasdeliberatelymakingsomeeloquentunspokenpleatoher,hewasdeliberatelykeepingoffthesubject.Hewasoversimplifyinghere,skitteringoffthere,dodgingandfeinting.Shewondered
why.Itwassoeasytolistentohim,tobelulledbyhisgentlerainofwords,thatshedidnotmisstheabsenceofhispurposefulgestures,theshowerof“hum”sand“hah”sthatpepperedhisusualconversation.Shedidnotknowhewasdeeplyworried.“UncleJack,”shesaid.
“What’sthisgottodowiththepriceofeggsinChina,andyouknowexactlywhatImean.”
“Ho,”hesaid.Hischeeksbecamerosy.“Gettin’smart,aren’tyou?”“Smartenoughtoknow
thatrelationsbetweentheNegroesandwhitepeopleareworsethanI’veeverseentheminmylife—bytheway,younevermentionedthemonce—smartenoughtowanttoknowwhatmakesyoursaintedsisteractthewayshedoes,smartenoughtowantto
knowwhatthehellhashappenedtomyfather.”Dr.Finchclenchedhis
handsandtuckedthemunderhischin.“Humanbirthismostunpleasant.It’smessy,it’sextremelypainful,sometimesit’sariskything.Itisalwaysbloody.Soisitwithcivilization.TheSouth’sinitslastagonizingbirthpain.It’sbringingforthsomethingnewandI’mnotsureIlikeit,butIwon’tbe
heretoseeit.Youwill.Menlikemeandmybrotherareobsoleteandwe’vegottogo,butit’sapitywe’llcarrywithusthemeaningfulthingsofthissociety—thereweresomegoodthingsinit.”“Stopwoolgatheringand
answerme!”Dr.Finchstoodup,leaned
onthetable,andlookedather.Thelinesfromhisnosesprangtohismouthandmadeaharshtrapezoid.Hiseyes
blazed,buthisvoicewasstillquiet:“JeanLouise,whena
man’slookingdownthedoublebarrelofashotgun,hepicksupthefirstweaponhecanfindtodefendhimself,beitastoneorastickofstovewoodoracitizens’council.”“Thatisnoanswer!”Dr.Finchshuthiseyes,
openedthem,andlookeddownatthetable.
“You’vebeengivingmesomekindofelaboraterunaround,UncleJack,andI’veneverknownyoutodoitbefore.You’vealwaysgivenmeastraightanswertoanythingIeveraskedyou.Whywon’tyounow?”“BecauseIcannot.Itis
neitherwithinmypowernormyprovincetodoso.”“I’veneverheardyoutalk
likethis.”
Dr.Finchopenedhismouthandclampeditshutagain.Hetookherbythearm,ledherintothenextroom,andstoppedinfrontofthegilt-framedmirror.“Lookatyou,”hesaid.Shelooked.“Whatdoyousee?”“Myself,andyou.”She
turnedtowardheruncle’sreflection.“Youknow,UncleJack,you’rehandsomeinahorriblesortofway.”
Shesawthelasthundredyearspossessheruncleforaninstant.Hemadeacrossbetweenabowandanod,said,“That’skindofyou,ma’am,”stoodbehindher,andgrippedhershoulders.“Lookatyou,”hesaid.“Icanonlytellyouthismuch.Lookatyoureyes.Lookatyournose.Lookatyourchin.Whatdoyousee?”“Iseemyself.”“Iseetwopeople.”
“Youmeanthetomboyandthewoman?”ShesawDr.Finch’s
reflectionshakeitshead.“No-o,child.That’sthereallright,butit’snotwhatImean.”“UncleJack,Idon’tknow
whyyouelecttodisappearintothemist….”Dr.Finchscratchedhis
headandatuftofgrayhairstoodup.“I’msorry,”hesaid.“Goahead.Goahead
anddowhatyou’regoingtodo.Ican’tstopyouandImustn’tstopyou,ChildeRoland.Butit’ssuchamessy,riskything.Suchabloodybusiness—”“UncleJack,sweetie,
you’renotwithus.”Dr.Finchfacedherand
heldheratarm’slength.“JeanLouise,Iwantyoutolistencarefully.Whatwe’vetalkedabouttoday—Iwanttotellyousomethingandseeif
youcanhookitalltogether.It’sthis:whatwasincidentaltotheissueinourWarBetweentheStatesisincidentaltotheissueinthewarwe’reinnow,andisincidentaltotheissueinyourownprivatewar.NowthinkitoverandtellmewhatyouthinkImean.”Dr.Finchwaited.“Yousoundlikeoneofthe
MinorProphets,”shesaid.
“Ithoughtso.Verywell,nowlistenagain:whenyoucan’tstanditanylonger,whenyourheartisintwo,youmustcometome.Doyouunderstand?Youmustcometome.Promiseme.”Heshookher.“Promiseme.”“Yessir,Ipromise,but—”“Nowscat,”saidheruncle.
“GooffsomewhereandplaypostofficewithHank.I’vegotbetterthingstodo—”“Thanwhat?”
“Noneofyourbusiness.Git.”WhenJeanLouisewent
downthesteps,shedidnotseeDr.Finchbitehisunderlip,gotohiskitchen,andtugRoseAylmer’sfur,orreturntohisstudywithhishandsinhispocketsandwalkslowlybackandforthacrosstheroomuntil,finally,hepickedupthetelephone.
PARTVI
15
MAD,MAD,MADasahatter.Well,that’sthewayofallFinches.DifferencebetweenUncleJackandtherestof’em,though,isheknowshe’scrazy.Shewassittingatatable
behindMr.Cunningham’sicecreamshop,eatingfroma
wax-papercontainer.Mr.Cunningham,amanofuncompromisingrectitude,hadgivenherapintfreeofchargeforhavingguessedhisnameyesterday,oneofthetinythingssheadoredaboutMaycomb:peoplerememberedtheirpromises.Whatwashedrivingat?
Promiseme—incidentaltotheissue—Anglo-Saxon—dirtyword—ChildeRoland.Ihopehedoesn’tlosehissense
ofproprietyortheywillhavetoshuthimup.He’ssofaroutofthiscenturyhecan’tgotothebathroom,hegoestothewatercloset.Butmadornot,he’stheonlyoneof’emwhohasn’tdonesomethingorsaidsomething—WhydidIcomebackhere?
Justtorubitin,Isuppose.Justtolookatthegravelinthebackyardwherethetreeswere,wherethecarhousewas,andwonderifitwasall
adream.Jemparkedhisfishingcaroverthere,wedugearthwormsbythebackfence,Iplantedabambooshootonetimeandwefoughtitfortwentyyears.Mr.Cunninghammusthavesaltedtheearthwhereitgrew,Idon’tseeitanymore.Sittingintheoneo’clock
sun,sherebuiltherhouse,populatedtheyardwithherfatherandbrotherandCalpurnia,putHenryacross
thestreetandMissRachelnextdoor.Itwasthelasttwoweeks
oftheschoolyearandshewasgoingtoherfirstdance.Traditionally,themembersoftheseniorclassinvitedtheiryoungerbrothersandsisterstotheCommencementDance,heldthenightbeforetheJunior-SeniorBanquet,whichwasalwaysthelastFridayinMay.
Jem’sfootballsweaterhadgrownincreasinglygorgeous—hewascaptainoftheteam,thefirstyearMaycombbeatAbbottsvilleinthirteenseasons.HenrywaspresidentoftheSeniorDebatingSociety,theonlyextracurricularactivityhehadtimefor,andJeanLouisewasafatfourteen,immersedinVictorianpoetryanddetectivenovels.
Inthosedayswhenitwasfashionabletocourtacrosstheriver,JemwassohelplesslyinlovewithagirlfromAbbottCountyheseriouslyconsideredspendinghissenioryearatAbbottsvilleHigh,butwasdiscouragedbyAtticus,whoputhisfootdownandsolacedJembyadvancinghimsufficientfundstopurchaseaModel-Acoupe.Jempaintedhiscarbrightblack,achievedthe
effectofwhitewalledtireswithmorepaint,kepthisconveyancepolishedtoperfection,andmotoredtoAbbottsvilleeveryFridayeveninginquietdignity,oblivioustothefactthathiscarsoundedlikeanoversizedcoffeemill,andthatwhereverhewenthounddogstendedtocongregateinlargenumbers.JeanLouisewassureJem
hadmadesomekindofdealwithHenrytotakehertothe
dance,butshedidnotmind.Atfirstshedidnotwanttogo,butAtticussaiditwouldlookfunnyifeverybody’ssisterswerethereexceptJem’s,toldhershe’dhaveagoodtime,andthatshecouldgotoGinsberg’sandpickoutanydressshewanted.Shefoundabeauty.White,
withpuffedsleevesandaskirtthatbillowedwhenshespunaround.Therewasonly
onethingwrong:shelookedlikeabowlingpininit.SheconsultedCalpurnia,
whosaidnobodycoulddoanythingabouthershape,that’sjustthewayshewas,whichwasthewayallgirlsmoreorlesswerewhentheywerefourteen.“ButIlooksopeculiar,”
shesaid,tuggingattheneckline.“Youlookthatwayallthe
time,”saidCalpurnia.“I
meanyou’rethesameineverydressyouhave.That’un’snodifferent.”JeanLouiseworriedfor
threedays.OntheafternoonofthedanceshereturnedtoGinsberg’sandselectedapairoffalsebosoms,wenthome,andtriedthemon.“Looknow,Cal,”shesaid.Calpurniasaid,“You’rethe
rightshapeallright,buthadn’tyoubetterbreak’eminbydegrees?”
“Whatdoyoumean?”Calpurniamuttered,“You
should’abeenwearing’emforawhiletogetusedto’em—it’stoolatenow.”“OhCal,don’tbesilly.”“Well,give’emhere.I’m
gonnasew’emtogether.”AsJeanLouisehanded
themover,asuddenthoughtrootedhertothespot.“Ohgolly,”shewhispered.“What’sthematternow?”
saidCalpurnia.“You’vebeen
fixin’forthisthingaslapweek.Whatdidyouforget?”“Cal,Idon’tthinkIknow
howtodance.”Calpurniaputherhandson
herhips.“Finetimetothinkofthat,”shesaid,lookingatthekitchenclock.“Threeforty-five.”JeanLouiserantothe
telephone.“Sixfive,please,”shesaid,andwhenherfatheransweredshewailedintothemouthpiece.
“KeepcalmandconsultJack,”hesaid.“Jackwasgoodinhisday.”“Hemusthavecutamean
minuet,”shesaid,butcalledheruncle,whorespondedwithalacrity.Dr.Finchcoachedhis
niecetothetuneofJem’srecordplayer:“Nothingtoit…likechess…justconcentrate…no,no,no,tuckinyourbutt…you’renotplayingtackle…loathe
ballroomdancing…toomuchlikework…don’ttrytoleadme…whenhestepsonyourfootit’syourownfaultfornotmovingit…don’tlookdown…don’t,don’t,don’t…nowyou’vegotit…basic,sodon’ttryanythingfancy.”Afteronehour’sintense
concentrationJeanLouisemasteredasimpleboxstep.Shecountedvigorouslytoherself,andadmiredher
uncle’sabilitytotalkanddancesimultaneously.“Relaxandyou’lldoall
right,”hesaid.Hisexertionswererepaid
byCalpurniawiththeofferofcoffeeandaninvitationtosupper,bothofwhichheaccepted.Dr.FinchspentasolitaryhourinthelivingroomuntilAtticusandJemarrived;hisniecelockedherselfinthebathroomandremainedtherescrubbing
herselfanddancing.Sheemergedradiant,atesupperinherbathrobe,andvanishedintoherbedroomunconsciousofherfamily’samusement.Whileshewasdressingshe
heardHenry’ssteponthefrontporchandthoughthimcallingforhertooearly,buthewalkeddownthehalltowardJem’sroom.SheappliedTangeeOrangetoherlips,combedherhair,andstuckdownhercowlickwith
someofJem’sVitalis.HerfatherandDr.Finchrosetotheirfeetwhensheenteredthelivingroom.“Youlooklikeapicture,”
saidAtticus.Hekissedherontheforehead.“Becareful,”shesaid.
“You’llmussupmyhair.”Dr.Finchsaid,“Shallwe
takeafinalpracticeturn?”Henryfoundthemdancing
inthelivingroom.HeblinkedwhenhesawJeanLouise’s
newfigure,andhetappedDr.Finchontheshoulder.“MayIcutin,sir?“Youlookplainpretty,
Scout,”Henrysaid.“I’vegotsomethingforyou.”“Youlooknicetoo,Hank,”
saidJeanLouise.Henry’sbluesergeSundaypantswerecreasedtopainfulsharpness,histanjacketsmelledofcleaningfluid;JeanLouiserecognizedJem’slight-bluenecktie.
“Youdancewell,”saidHenry,andJeanLouisestumbled.“Don’tlookdown,Scout!”
snappedDr.Finch.“Itoldyouit’slikecarryingacupofcoffee.Ifyoulookatityouspillit.”Atticusopenedhiswatch.
“JembettergetamoveonifhewantstogetIrene.Thattrapofhiswon’tdobetterthanthirty.”
WhenJemappearedAtticussenthimbacktochangehistie.Whenhereappeared,Atticusgavehimthekeystothefamilycar,somemoney,andalectureonnotdoingoverfifty.“Say,”saidJem,afterduly
admiringJeanLouise,“youallcangointheFord,andyouwon’thavetogoallthatwaytoAbbottsvillewithme.”Dr.Finchwasfidgeting
withhiscoatpockets.“Itis
immaterialtomehowyougo,”hesaid.“Justgo.You’remakingmenervousstandingaroundinallyourfinery.JeanLouiseisbeginningtosweat.Comein,Cal.”Calpurniawasstanding
shylyinthehall,givinghergrudgingapprovaltothescene.SheadjustedHenry’stie,pickedinvisiblelintfromJem’scoat,anddesiredthepresenceofJeanLouiseinthekitchen.
“IthinkIoughttosew’emin,”shesaiddoubtfully.Henryshoutedcomeonor
Dr.Finchwouldhaveastroke.“I’llbeokay,Cal.”Returningtothe
livingroom,JeanLouisefoundheruncleinasuppressedwhirlwindofimpatience,invividcontrasttoherfather,whowasstandingcasuallywithhishandsinhispockets.“You’d
bettergetgoing,”saidAtticus.“Alexandra’llbehereinanotherminute—thenyouwillbelate.”Theywereonthefront
porchwhenHenryhalted.“Iforgot!”heyelped,andrantoJem’sroom.Hereturnedcarryingabox,presentingittoJeanLouisewithalowbow:“Foryou,MissFinch,”hesaid.Insidetheboxweretwopinkcamellias.
“Ha-ank,”saidJeanLouise.“They’rebought!”“SentallthewaytoMobile
for’em,”saidHenry.“Theycameuponthesixo’clockbus.”“Where’llIput’em?”“HeavenlyFathers,put’em
wheretheybelong!”explodedDr.Finch.“Comehere!”Hesnatchedthecamellias
fromJeanLouiseandpinnedthemtohershoulder,glaringsternlyatherfalsefront.
“Willyounowdomethefavorofleavingthepremises?”“Iforgotmypurse.”Dr.Finchproducedhis
handkerchiefandmadeapassathisjaw.“Henry,”hesaid,“gogetthatabominationcranked.I’llmeetyououtinfrontwithher.”Shekissedherfather
goodnight,andhesaid,“Ihopeyouhavethetimeofyourlife.”
TheMaycombCountyHighSchoolgymnasiumwastastefullydecoratedwithballoonsandwhite-and-redcrepepaperstreamers.Alongtablestoodatthefarend;papercups,platesofsandwiches,andnapkinssurroundedtwopunchbowlsfilledwithapurplemixture.Thegymnasiumfloorwasfreshlywaxedandthebasketballgoalswerefoldedtotheceiling.Greenery
envelopedthestagefront,andinthecenter,fornoparticularreason,werelargeredcardboardletters:MCHS.“It’sbeautiful,isn’tit?”
saidJeanLouise.“Looksawfullynice,”said
Henry.“Doesn’titlookbiggerwhenthere’snogamegoingon?”Theyjoinedagroupof
youngerandelderbrothersandsistersstandingaroundthepunchbowls.Thecrowd
wasvisiblyimpressedwithJeanLouise.Girlsshesaweverydayaskedherwhereshegotherdress,asiftheydidn’tallgetthemthere:“Ginsberg’s.Calpurniatookitup,”shesaid.Severaloftheyoungerboyswithwhomshehadbeenoneye-gougingtermsonlyafewyearsagomadeself-consciousconversationwithher.WhenHenryhandedhera
cupofpunchshewhispered,
“IfyouwanttogoonwiththeseniorsoranythingI’llbeallright.”Henrysmiledather.
“You’remydate,Scout.”“Iknow,butyoushouldn’t
feelobliged—”Henrylaughed.“Idon’t
feelobligatedtodoonething.Iwantedtobringyou.Let’sdance.”“Okay,buttakeiteasy.”Heswungherouttothe
centerofthefloor.Thepublic
addresssystemblaredaslownumber,andcountingsystematicallytoherself,JeanLouisedancedthroughitwithonlyonemistake.Astheeveningworeon,
sherealizedthatshewasamodestsuccess.Severalboyshadcutinonher,andwhensheshowedsignsofbecomingstuck,Henrywasneverfaraway.Shewassensibleenoughto
sitoutjitterbugnumbersand
avoidmusicwithaSouthAmericantaint,andHenrysaidwhenshelearnedtotalkanddanceatthesametimeshe’dbeahit.Shehopedtheeveningwouldlastforever.JemandIrene’sentrance
causedastir.JemhadbeenvotedMostHandsomeintheseniorclass,areasonableassessment:hehadhismother’scalflikebrowneyes,theheavyFincheyebrows,andevenfeatures.Irenewas
thelastwordinsophistication.Sheworeaclinginggreentaffetadressandhigh-heeledshoes,andwhenshedanceddozensofslavebraceletsclinkedonherwrists.Shehadcoolgreeneyesandjethair,aquicksmile,andwasthetypeofgirlJemfellforwithmonotonousregularity.Jemdancedhisdutydance
withJeanLouise,toldhershewasdoingfinebuthernose
wasshining,towhichsherepliedhehadlipstickonhismouth.ThenumberendedandJemleftherwithHenry.“Ican’tbelieveyou’regoingintheArmyinJune,”shesaid.Itmakesyousoundsoold.”Henryopenedhismouthto
answer,suddenlygoggled,andclaspedhertohiminaclinch.“What’sthematter,
Hank?”
“Don’tyouthinkit’shotinhere?Let’sgoout.”JeanLouisetriedtobreak
away,butheheldhercloseanddancedheroutthesidedoorintothenight.“What’seatingyou,Hank?
HaveIsaidsomething—”Hetookherhandand
walkedheraroundtothefrontoftheschoolbuilding.“Ah—”saidHenry.He
heldbothherhands.
“Honey,”hesaid.“Lookatyourfront.”“It’spitchdark.Ican’tsee
anything.”“Thenfeel.”Shefelt,andgasped.Her
rightfalsebosomwasinthecenterofherchestandtheotherwasnearlyunderherleftarmpit.Shejerkedthembackintopositionandburstintotears.Shesatdownonthe
schoolhousesteps;Henrysat
besideherandputhisarmaroundhershoulders.Whenshestoppedcryingshesaid,“Whendidyounoticeit?”“Justthen,Iswear.”“Doyousupposethey’ve
beenlaughingatmelong?”Henryshookhishead.“I
don’tthinkanybodynoticedit,Scout.Listen,JemdancedwithyoujustbeforeIdid,andifhe’dnoticedithe’dacertainlytoldyou.”
“AllJem’sgotonhismind’sIrene.Hewouldn’tseeacycloneifitwascomin’athim.”Shewascryingagain,softly.“I’llneverbeabletofacethemagain.”Henrysqueezedher
shoulder.“Scout,Isweartheyslippedwhenweweredancing.Belogical—ifanybody’dseenthey’d’vetoldyou,youknowthat.”“NoIdon’t.They’djust
whisperandlaugh.Iknow
howtheydo.”“Nottheseniors,”said
Henrysedately.“You’vebeendancingwiththefootballteameversinceJemcamein.”Shehad.Theteam,oneby
one,hadrequestedthepleasure:itwasJem’squietwayofmakingsureshehadagoodtime.“Besides,”continued
Henry,“Idon’tlike’em
anyway.Youdon’tlooklikeyourselfinthem.”Stung,shesaid,“You
meanIlookfunnyin’em?Ilookfunnywithout’em,too.”“Imeanyou’rejustnot
JeanLouise.”Headded,“Youdon’tlookfunnyatall,youlookfinetome.”“You’renicetosaythat,
Hank,butyou’rejustsayingit.I’mallfatinthewrongplaces,and—”
Henryhooted.“Howoldareyou?Goin’onfifteenstill.Youhaven’tevenstoppedgrowingyet.Say,yourememberGladysGrierson?Rememberhowtheyusedtocallher‘HappyButt’?”“Ha-ank!”“Well,lookathernow.”GladysGrierson,oneofthe
moredelectableornamentsoftheseniorclass,hadbeenafflictedtoagreaterextent
withJeanLouise’scomplaint.“She’sdownrightslinkynow,isn’tshe?”Henrysaidmasterfully,
“Listen,Scout,they’llworryyoutherestofthenight.Youbettertake’emoff.”“No.Let’sgohome.”“We’renotgoinghome,
we’regoingbackinandhaveagoodtime.”“No!”“Damnit,Scout,Isaid
we’regoingback,sotake’em
off!”“Takemehome,Henry.”Withfurious,disinterested
fingers,Henryreachedbeneaththeneckofherdress,drewouttheoffendingappurtenances,andflungthemasfarashecouldintothenight.“Nowshallwegoin?”Nooneseemedtonotice
thechangeinherappearance,whichproved,Henrysaid,thatshewasvainasa
peacock,thinkingeverybodywaslookingatherallthetime.Thenextdaywasaschool
day,andthedancebrokeupateleven.HenrycoastedtheForddowntheFinchdrivewayandbroughtittoastopunderthechinaberrytrees.HeandJeanLouisewalkedtothefrontdoor,andbeforeheopeneditforher,Henryputhisarmsaround
herlightlyandkissedher.Shefelthercheeksgrowhot.“Oncemoreforgood
luck,”hesaid.Hekissedheragain,shut
thedoorbehindher,andsheheardhimwhistlingasheranacrossthestreettohisroom.Hungry,shetiptoeddown
thehalltothekitchen.Passingherfather’sroom,shesawastripoflightunderhisdoor.Sheknockedandwent
in.Atticuswasinbedreading.“Haveagoodtime?”“Ihadawon-derfultime,”
shesaid.“Atticus?”“Hm?”“DoyouthinkHank’stoo
oldforme?”“What?”“Nothing.Goodnight.”
SHESATTHROUGHrollcallthenextmorningundertheweightofhercrushonHenry,
comingtoattentiononlywhenherhomeroomteacherannouncedthattherewouldbeaspecialassemblyofthejuniorandseniorschoolsimmediatelyafterthefirst-periodbell.Shewenttotheauditorium
withnothingmoreonhermindthantheprospectofseeingHenry,andweakcuriosityastowhatMissMuffetthadtosay.Probablyanotherwarbonddrive.
TheMaycombCountyHighSchoolprincipalwasaMr.CharlesTuffett,whotocompensateforhisname,habituallyworeanexpressionthatmadehimresembletheIndianonafive-centpiece.ThepersonalityofMr.Tuffettwaslessinspiring:hewasadisappointedman,afrustratedprofessorofeducationwithnosympathyforyoungpeople.HewasfromthehillsofMississippi,
whichplacedhimatadisadvantageinMaycomb:hard-headedhillfolkdonotunderstandcoastal-plaindreamers,andMr.Tuffettwasnoexception.WhenhecametoMaycombhelostnotimeinmakingknowntotheparentsthattheirchildrenwerethemostill-manneredlothehadeverseen,thatvocationalagriculturewasalltheywerefittolearn,thatfootballandbasketballwerea
wasteoftime,andthathe,happily,hadnouseforclubsandextracurricularactivitiesbecauseschool,likelife,wasabusinessproposition.Hisstudentbody,fromthe
eldesttotheyoungest,respondedinkind:Mr.Tuffettwastoleratedatalltimes,butignoredmostofthetime.JeanLouisesatwithher
classinthemiddlesectionoftheauditorium.Thesenior
classsatintherearacrosstheaislefromher,anditwaseasytoturnandlookatHenry.Jem,sittingbesidehim,wassquint-eyed,miasmal,andmute,ashealwayswasinthemorning.WhenMr.Tuffettfacedthemandreadsomeannouncements,JeanLouisewasgratefulthathewaskillingthefirstperiod,whichmeantnomath.Sheturned
aroundwhenMr.Tuffettdescendedtobrasstacks:Inhistimehehadcome
acrossallvarietiesofstudents,hesaid,someofwhichcarriedpistolstoschool,butneverinhisexperiencehadhewitnessedsuchanactofdepravityasgreetedhimwhenhecameupthefrontwalkthismorning.JeanLouiseexchanged
glanceswithherneighbors.“What’seatinghim?”she
whispered.“Godknows,”answeredherneighborontheleft.Didtheyrealizethe
enormityofsuchanoutrage?Hewouldhavethemknowthiscountrywasatwar,thatwhileourboys—ourbrothersandsons—werefightinganddyingforus,someonedirectedanobsceneactofdefilementatthem,anacttheperpetratorofwhichwasbeneathcontempt.
JeanLouiselookedaroundataseaofperplexedfaces;shecouldspotguiltypartieseasilyonpublicoccasions,butshewasmetwithblankastonishmentonallsides.Furthermore,beforethey
adjourned,Mr.Tuffettwouldsayheknewwhodidit,andifthepartywishedleniencyhewouldappearathisofficenotlaterthantwoo’clockwithastatementinwriting.
Theassembly,suppressingagrowlofdisgustatMr.Tuffett’sindulgenceintheoldestschoolmaster’strickonrecord,adjournedandfollowedhimtothefrontofthebuilding.“Hejustlovesconfessions
inwriting,”saidJeanLouisetohercompanions.“Hethinksitmakesitlegal.”“Yeah,hedoesn’tbelieve
anythingunlessit’swrittendown,”saidone.
“Thenwhenit’swrittendownhealwaysbelieveseverywordofit,”saidanother.“Reckonsomebody’s
paintedswastikasonthesidewalk?”saidathird.“Beendone,”saidJean
Louise.Theyroundedthecornerof
thebuildingandstoodstill.Nothingseemedamiss;thepavementwasclean,thefrontdoorswereinplace,the
shrubberyhadnotbeendisturbed.Mr.Tuffettwaiteduntilthe
schoolassembled,thenpointeddramaticallyupward.“Look,”hesaid.“Look,allofyou!”Mr.Tuffettwasapatriot.
Hewaschairmanofeverybonddrive,hegavetediousandembarrassingtalksinassemblyontheWarEffort,theprojectheinstigatedandviewedwithmostpridewasa
tremendousbillboardhecausedtobeerectedinthefrontschoolyardproclaimingthatthefollowinggraduatesofMCHSwereintheserviceoftheircountry.HisstudentsviewedMr.Tuffett’sbillboardmoredarkly:hehadassessedthemtwenty-fivecentsapieceandhadtakenthecreditforithimself.FollowingMr.Tuffett’s
finger,JeanLouiselookedatthebillboard.Sheread,INTHE
SERVICEOFTHEIRCOUNTR.Blockingoutthelastletterandflutteringsoftlyinthemorningbreezewereherfalsies.“Iassureyou,”saidMr.
Tuffett,“thatasignedstatementhadbetterbeonmydeskbytwoo’clockthisafternoon.Iwasonthiscampuslastnight,”hesaid,emphasizingeachword.“Nowgotoyourclasses.”
Thatwasathought.Healwayssneakedaroundatschooldancestotryandcatchpeoplenecking.Helookedinparkedcarsandbeatthebushes.Maybehesawthem.WhydidHankhavetothrow’em?“He’sbluffing,”saidJem
atrecess.“Butagainhemaynotbe.”Theywereintheschool
lunchroom.JeanLouisewastryingtobehave
inconspicuously.Theschoolwasnearburstingpointwithlaughter,horror,andcuriosity.“Forthelasttime,youall,
letmetellhim,”shesaid.“Don’tbeagump,Jean
Louise.Youknowhowhefeelsaboutit.Afterall,Ididit,”saidHenry.“Well,forheaven’ssake
they’remine!”“IknowhowHankfeels,
Scout,”saidJem.“Hecan’t
letyoudoit.”“Ifailtoseewhynot.”“FortheumpteenthtimeI
justcan’t,that’sall.Don’tyouseethat?”“No.”“JeanLouise,youweremy
datelastnight—”“Iwillneverunderstand
menaslongasIlive,”shesaid,nolongerinlovewithHenry.“Youdon’thavetoprotectme,Hank.I’mnot
yourdatethismorning.Youknowyoucan’ttellhim.”“That’sforsure,Hank,”
saidJem.“He’dholdbackyourdiploma.”Adiplomameantmoreto
Henrythantomostofhisfriends.Itwasallrightforsomeofthemtobeexpelled;inapinch,theycouldgoofftoaboardingschool.“Youcuthimtothequick,
youknow,”saidJem.“It’dbe
justlikehimtoexpelyoutwoweeksbeforeyougraduate.”“Soletme,”saidJean
Louise.“I’djustlovebeingexpelled.”Shewould.Schoolboredherintolerably.“That’snotthepoint,
Scout.Yousimplycan’tdoit.Icouldexplain—noIcouldn’t,either,”saidHenry,astheramificationsofhisimpetuositysankin.“Icouldn’texplainanything.”
“Allright,”saidJem.“Thesituationisthis.Hank,Ithinkhe’sbluffing,butthere’sagoodchanceheisn’t.Youknowheprowlsaround.Hemighthaveheardyouall,youwerepracticallyunderhisofficewindow—”“Buthisofficewasdark,”
saidJeanLouise.“—helovestositinthe
dark.IfScouttellshimit’llberugged,butifyoutellhimhe’llexpelyousureasyou
wereborn,andyou’vegottograduate,son.”“Jem,”saidJeanLouise.
“It’slovelytobeaphilosopher,butweain’tgettinganywhere—”“YourstatusasIseeit,
Hank,”saidJem,tranquillyignoringhissister,“isyou’llbedamnedifyoudoanddamnedifyoudon’t.”“I—”“Ohshutup,Scout!”said
Henryviciously.“Don’tyou
seeI’llneverbeabletoholdupmyheadagainifIletyoudoit?”“Cu-u-rr,Ineversawsuch
heroes!”Henryjumpedup.“Waita
minute!”heshouted.“Jem,givemethecarkeysandcoverformeinstudyhall.I’llbebackforecon.”Jemsaid,“MissMuffett’ll
hearyouleaving,Hank.”“Nohewon’t.I’llpushthe
cartotheroad.Besides,he’ll
beinstudyhall.”Itwaseasytobeabsent
fromastudyhallMr.Tuffettguarded.Hetooklittlepersonalinterestinhisstudents,knowingonlythemoreuninhibitedbyname.Seatswereassignedinthelibrary,butifonemadeclearone’sdesirenottoattend,theranksclosed;thepersonontheendofone’srowsettheremainingchairinthehall
outsideandreplaceditwhentheperiodwasover.JeanLouisepaidno
attentiontoherEnglishteacher,andfiftyanxiousminuteslaterwasstoppedbyHenryonthewaytohercivicsclass.“Nowlisten,”hesaid
tersely.“DoexactlyasItellyou:you’regonnatellhim.Write—”hehandedherapencilandsheopenedhernotebook.
“Write,‘DearMr.Tuffett.Theylooklikemine.’Signyourfullname.Bettercopyitoverininksohe’llbelieveit.Nowjustbeforenoonyougoandgiveittohim.Gotit?”Shenodded.“Justbefore
noon.”Whenshewenttocivics
sheknewitwasout.Groupsofstudentswereclusteredinthehallmumblingandlaughing.Sheenduredgrinsandfriendlywinkswith
equanimity—theyalmostmadeherfeelbetter.It’sgrownpeoplewhoalwaysbelievetheworst,shethought,confidentthathercontemporariesbelievednomorenorlessthanwhatJemandHankhadcirculated.Butwhydidtheytellit?They’dbekiddedforever:theywouldn’tcarebecausetheyweregraduating,butshewouldhavetositthereforthreemoreyears.No,Miss
MuffettwouldexpelherandAtticuswouldsendheroffsomewhere.AtticuswouldhittheceilingwhenMissMuffetttoldhimthegorystory.Ohwell,it’dgetHankoutofamess.HeandJemwereawfullygallantforawhilebutshewasrightintheend.Itwastheonlythingtodo.Shewroteouther
confessioninink,andasnoondrewnear,herspirits
flagged.NormallytherewasnothingsheenjoyedmorethanarowwithMissMuffett,whowassothickonecouldsayalmostanythingtohimprovidedonewascarefultomaintainagraveandsorrowfulcountenance,buttodayshehadnotastefordialectics.Shefeltnervousandshedespisedherselfforit.Shewasfaintlyqueasy
whenshewalkeddownthe
halltohisoffice.Hehadcalleditobsceneanddepravedinassembly;whatwouldhesaytothetown?Maycombthrivedonrumors,therewouldbeallkindsofstoriesgettingbacktoAtticus—Mr.Tuffettwassitting
behindhisdesk,gazingtestilyatitstop.“Whatdoyouwant?”hesaid,withoutlookingup.
“Iwantedtogiveyouthis,sir,”shesaid,backingawayinstinctively.Mr.Tuffetttookhernote,
waddeditupwithoutreadingit,andthrewitatthewastepaperbasket.JeanLouisehadthe
sensationofbeingflooredbyafeather.“Ah,Mr.Tuffett,”shesaid.
“Icametotellyoulikeyousaid.I—Igot’ematGinsberg’s,”sheadded
gratuitously.“Ididn’tmeanany—”Mr.Tuffettlookedup,his
facereddeningwithanger.“Don’tyoustandthereandtellmewhatyoudidn’tmean!NeverinmyexperiencehaveIcomeacross—”Nowshewasinforit.Butasshelistenedshe
receivedtheimpressionthatMr.Tuffett’sweregeneralremarksdirectedmoretothestudentbodythantoher,they
wereanechoofhisearlymorningfeelings.HewasconcludingwithaprécisontheunhealthyattitudesengenderedbyMaycombCountywhensheinterrupted:“Mr.Tuffett,Ijustwantto
sayeverybody’snottoblameforwhatIdid—youdon’thavetotakeitoutoneverybody.”Mr.Tuffettgrippedthe
edgeofhisdeskandsaidbetweenclenchedteeth,“For
thatbitofimpudenceyoumayremainonehourafterschool,younglady!”Shetookadeepbreath.
“Mr.Tuffett,”shesaid,“Ithinkthere’sbeenamistake.Ireallydon’tquite—”“Youdon’t,doyou?Then
I’llshowyou!”Mr.Tuffettsnatchedupa
thickpileofloose-leafnotebookpaperandwaveditather.
“You,Miss,arethehundredandfifth!”JeanLouiseexaminedthe
sheetsofpaper.Theywereallalike.Oneachwaswritten“DearMr.Tuffett.Theylooklikemine,”andsignedbyeverygirlintheschoolfromtheninthgradeupward.Shestoodforamomentin
deepthought;unabletothinkofanythingtosaytohelpMr.Tuffett,shestolequietlyoutofhisoffice.
“He’sabeatenman,”saidJem,whentheywereridinghometodinner.JeanLouisesatbetweenherbrotherandHenry,whohadlistenedsoberlytoheraccountofMr.Tuffett’sstateofmind.“Hank,youareanabsolute
genius,”shesaid.“Whatevergaveyoutheidea?”Henryinhaleddeeplyon
hiscigaretteandflickeditoutthewindow.“Iconsultedmylawyer,”hesaidgrandly.
JeanLouiseputherhandstohermouth.“Naturally,”saidHenry.
“Youknowhe’sbeenlookingaftermybusinesssinceIwasknee-high,soIjustwenttotownandexplainedittohim.Isimplyaskedhimforadvice.”“DidAtticusputyouupto
it?”askedJeanLouiseinawe.“No,hedidn’tputmeupto
it.Itwasmyownidea.He
balkedaroundforawhile,saiditwasallaquestionofbalancin’theequitiesorsomething,thatIwasinaninterestingbuttenuousposition.Heswungaroundinhischairandlookedoutthewindowandsaidhealwaystriedtoputhimselfinhisclients’shoes….”Henrypaused.“Keepon.”“Well,hesaidowin’tothe
extremedelicacyofmy
problem,andsincetherewasnoevidenceofcriminalintent,hewouldn’tbeabovethrowin’alittledustinajuryman’seyes—whateverthatmeans—andthen,ohIdon’tknow.”“OhHank,youdoknow.”“Well,hesaidsomething
aboutsafetyinnumbersandifheweremehewouldn’tdreamofconnivin’atperjurybutsofarasheknewallfalsieslookedalike,andthat
wasaboutallhecoulddoforme.Hesaidhe’dbillmeattheendofthemonth.Iwasn’toutoftheofficegoodbeforeIgottheidea!”JeanLouisesaid,“Hank—
didhesayanythingaboutwhathewasgoingtosaytome?”“Saytoyou?”Henry
turnedtoher.“Hewon’tsayadarnthingtoyou.Hecan’t.Don’tyouknoweverything
anybodytellshislawyer’sconfidential?”
THOCK.SHEFLATTENEDthepapercupintothetable,shatteringtheirimages.Thesunstoodattwoo’clock,asithadstoodyesterdayandwouldstandtomorrow.Helliseternalapartness.
Whathadshedonethatshemustspendtherestofheryearsreachingoutwithyearningforthem,making
secrettripstolongago,makingnojourneytothepresent?Iamtheirbloodandbones,Ihaveduginthisground,thisismyhome.ButIamnottheirblood,thegrounddoesn’tcarewhodigsit,Iamastrangeratacocktailparty.
16
“HANK,WHERE’SATTICUS?”Henrylookedupfromhis
desk.“Hi,sweetie.He’satthepostoffice.It’saboutcoffee-timeforme.Comin’along?”Thesamethingthat
compelledhertoleaveMr.Cunningham’sandgotothe
officecausedhertofollowHenrytothesidewalk:shewishedtolookfurtivelyatthemagainandagain,toassureherselfthattheyhadnotundergonesomealarmingphysicalmetamorphosisaswell,yetshedidnotwishtospeaktothem,totouchthem,lestshecausethemtocommitfurtheroutrageinherpresence.AssheandHenrywalked
sidebysidetothedrugstore,
shewonderedifMaycombwasplanningafallorwinterweddingforthem.I’mpeculiar,shethought.IcannotgetintobedwithamanunlessI’minsomestateofaccordwithhim.RightnowIcan’tevenspeaktohim.Cannotspeaktomyoldestfriend.Theysatfacingeachother
inabooth,andJeanLouisestudiedthenapkincontainer,
thesugarbowl,thesaltandpeppershakers.“You’requiet,”saidHenry.
“HowwastheCoffee?”“Atrocious.”“Hesterthere?”“Yes.She’saboutyours
andJem’sage,isn’tshe?”“Yeah,sameclass.Bill
toldmethismorningshewaspilin’onthewarpaintforit.”“Hank,BillSinclairmust
beagloomyparty.”“Why?”
“Allthatguffhe’sputinHester’shead—”“Whatguff?”“Oh,theCatholicsandthe
CommunistsandLordknowswhatelse.Itseemstohaverunalltogetherinhermind.”Henrylaughedandsaid,
“Honey,thesunrisesandsetswiththatBillofhers.EverythinghesaysisGospel.Shelovesherman.”“Isthatwhatlovingyour
manis?”
“Hasalottodowithit.”JeanLouisesaid,“You
meanlosingyourownidentity,don’tyou?”“Inaway,yes,”said
Henry.“ThenIdoubtifIshall
evermarry.Inevermetaman—”“You’regonnamarryme,
remember?”“Hank,Imayaswelltell
younowandgetitoverwith:
I’mnotgoingtomarryyou.Periodandthat’sthat.”Shehadnotintendedtosay
itbutshecouldnotstopherself.“I’veheardthatbefore.”“Well,I’mtellingyounow
thatifyoueverwanttomarry”—wasitshewhowastalking?—“you’dbeststartlookingaround.I’veneverbeeninlovewithyou,butyou’vealwaysknownI’velovedyou.Ithoughtwecould
makeamarriagewithmelovingyouonthatbasis,but—”“Butwhat?”“Idon’tevenloveyoulike
thatanymore.I’vehurtyoubutthereitis.”Yes,itwasshetalking,withhercustomaryaplomb,breakinghisheartinthedrugstore.Well,he’dbrokenhers.Henry’sfacebecame
blank,reddened,anditsscarleapedintoprominence.
“JeanLouise,youcan’tmeanwhatyou’resaying.”“Imeaneverywordofit.”Hurts,doesn’tit?You’re
damnrightithurts.Youknowhowitfeels,now.Henryreachedacrossthe
tableandtookherhand.Shepulledaway.“Don’tyoutouchme,”shesaid.“Mydarling,whatisthe
matter?”Matter?I’lltellyouwhat’s
thematter.Youwon’tbe
pleasedwithsomeofit.“Allright,Hank.It’s
simplythis:Iwasatthatmeetingyesterday.IsawyouandAtticusinyourglorydownthereatthattablewiththat—thatscum,thatdreadfulman,andItellyoumystomachturned.MerelythemanIwasgoingtomarry,merelymyownfather,merelymademesosickIthrewupandhaven’tstopped
yet!HowinthenameofGodcouldyou?Howcouldyou?”“Wehavetodoalotof
thingswedon’twanttodo,JeanLouise.”Sheblazed.“Whatkindof
answeristhat?IthoughtUncleJackhadfinallygoneoffhisrockerbutI’mnotsosurenow!”“Honey,”saidHenry.He
movedthesugarbowltothecenterofthetableandpusheditbackagain.“Lookatitthis
way.AlltheMaycombCitizens’Councilisinthisworldis—isaprotesttotheCourt,it’sasortofwarningtotheNegroesforthemnottobeinsuchahurry,it’sa—”“—tailor-madeaudience
foranytrashwhowantstogetupandhollernigger.Howcanyoubeapartytosuchathing,howcanyou?”Henrypushedthesugar
bowltowardherandbroughtitback.Shetookitawayfrom
himandbangeditdowninthecorner.“JeanLouise,asIsaid
before,wehavetodo—”“—alotofthingswedon’t
—”“—willyouletmefinish?
—wedon’twanttodo.No,pleaseletmetalk.I’mtryingtothinkofsomethingthatmightshowyouwhatImean…youknowtheKlan—?”“YesIknowtheKlan.”
“Nowhushaminute.AlongtimeagotheKlanwasrespectable,liketheMasons.Almosteverymanofanyprominencewasamember,backwhenMr.Finchwasyoung.DidyouknowMr.Finchjoined?”“Iwouldn’tbesurprisedat
anythingMr.Fincheverjoinedinhislife.Itfigures—”“JeanLouise,shutup!Mr.
Finchhasnomoreuseforthe
Klanthananybody,anddidn’tthen.Youknowwhyhejoined?Tofindoutexactlywhatmenintownwerebehindthemasks.Whatmen,whatpeople.Hewenttoonemeeting,andthatwasenough.TheWizardhappenedtobetheMethodistpreacher—”“That’sthekindof
companyAtticuslikes.”“Shutup,JeanLouise.I’m
tryingtomakeyouseehis
motive:alltheKlanwasthenwasapoliticalforce,therewasn’tanycross-burning,butyourdaddydidandstilldoesgetmightyuncomfortablearoundfolkswhocoveruptheirfaces.Hehadtoknowwhohe’dbefightingifthetimeevercameto—hehadtofindoutwhotheywere….”“Somyesteemedfatheris
oneoftheInvisibleEmpire.”“JeanLouise,thatwas
fortyyearsago—”
“He’sprobablytheGrandDragonbynow.”Henrysaidevenly,“I’m
onlytryingtomakeyouseebeyondmen’sactstotheirmotives.Amancanappeartobeapartofsomethingnot-so-goodonitsface,butdon’ttakeituponyourselftojudgehimunlessyouknowhismotivesaswell.Amancanbeboilinginside,butheknowsamildanswerworksbetterthanshowinghisrage.
Amancancondemnhisenemies,butit’swisertoknowthem.Isaidsometimeswehavetodo—”JeanLouisesaid,“Areyou
sayinggoalongwiththecrowdandthenwhenthetimecomes—”Henrycheckedher:“Look,
honey.Haveyoueverconsideredthatmen,especiallymen,mustconformtocertaindemandsofthecommunitytheylivein
simplysotheycanbeofservicetoit?“MaycombCounty’shome
tome,honey.It’sthebestplaceIknowtolivein.I’vebuiltupagoodrecordherefromthetimeIwasakid.Maycombknowsme,andIknowMaycomb.Maycombtrustsme,andItrustMaycomb.Mybreadandbuttercomesfromthistown,andMaycomb’sgivenmeagoodliving.
“ButMaycombaskscertainthingsinreturn.Itasksyoutoleadareasonablycleanlife,itasksthatyoujointheKiwanisClub,togotochurchonSunday,itasksyoutoconformtoitsways—”Henryexaminedthesalt
shaker,movinghisthumbupanddownitsgroovedsides.“Rememberthis,honey,”hesaid.“I’vehadtoworklikeadogforeverythingIeverhad.Iworkedinthatstoreacross
thesquare—IwassotiredmostofthetimeitwasallIcoulddotokeepupwithmylessons.InthesummerIworkedathomeinMamma’sstore,andwhenIwasn’tworkingthereIwashammeringinthehouse.JeanLouise,I’vehadtoscratchsinceIwasakidforthethingsyouandJemtookforgranted.I’veneverhadsomeofthethingsyoutakeforgrantedandIneverwill.AllI
havetofallbackonismyself—”“That’sallanyofushave,
Hank.”“Noitisn’t.Nothere.”“Whatdoyoumean?”“Imeantherearesome
thingsIsimplycan’tdothatyoucan.”“AndwhyamIsucha
privilegedcharacter?”“You’reaFinch.”“SoI’maFinch.Sowhat?”
“Soyoucanparadearoundtowninyourdungareeswithyourshirttailoutandbarefootedifyouwantto.Maycombsays,‘That’stheFinchinher,that’sjustHerWay.’Maycombgrinsandgoesaboutitsbusiness:oldScoutFinchneverchanges.Maycomb’sdelightedandperfectlyreadytobelieveyouwentswimmingintheriverbucknaked.‘Hasn’tchangedabit,’itsays.‘SameoldJean
Louise.Rememberwhenshe—?’”Heputdownthesalt
shaker.“ButletHenryClintonshowanysignsofdeviatin’fromthenormandMaycombsays,not‘That’stheClintoninhim,’but‘That’sthetrashinhim.’”“Hank.Thatisuntrueand
youknowit.It’sunfairandit’sungenerous,butmorethananythinginthisworldit’sjustnottrue!”
“JeanLouise,itistrue,”saidHenrygently.“You’veprobablynevereventhoughtaboutit—”“Hank,you’vegotsome
kindofcomplex.”“Ihaven’tgotanythingof
thekind.IjustknowMaycomb.I’mnotintheleastsensitiveaboutit,butgoodLord,I’mcertainlyawareofit.ItsaystomethattherearecertainthingsIcan’t
doandcertainthingsImustdoifI—”“Ifyouwhat?”“Well,sweetie,Iwould
reallyliketolivehere,andIlikethethingsothermenlike.Iwanttokeeptherespectofthistown,Iwanttoserveit,Iwanttomakeanameformyselfasalawyer,Iwanttomakemoney,Iwanttomarryandhaveafamily—”“Inthatorder,Isuppose!”
JeanLouisegotupfromtheboothandmarchedoutofthedrugstore.Henryfollowedonherheels.Atthedoorheturnedandyelledhe’dgetthecheckinaminute.“JeanLouise,stop!”Shestopped.“Well?”“Honey,I’monlytryingto
makeyousee—”“Iseeallright!”shesaid.
“Iseeascaredlittleman;Iseealittlemanwho’sscared
nottodowhatAtticustellshim,who’sscarednottostandonhisowntwofeet,who’sscarednottositaroundwiththerestofthered-bloodedmen—”Shestartedwalking.She
thoughtshewaswalkinginthegeneraldirectionofthecar.Shethoughtshehadparkeditinfrontoftheoffice.“JeanLouise,willyou
pleasewaitaminute?”
“Allright,I’mwaiting.”“YouknowItoldyouthere
werethingsyou’dalwaystakenforgranted—”“Hellyes,I’vebeentaking
alotofthingsforgranted.TheverythingsI’velovedaboutyou.IlookeduptoyoulikeGodknowswhatbecauseyouworkedlikehellforeverythingyoueverhad,foreverythingyou’vemadeyourself.Ithoughtalotofthingswentwithit,butthey
obviouslyaren’tthere.Ithoughtyouhadguts,Ithought—”Shewalkeddownthe
sidewalk,unawarethatMaycombwaslookingather,thatHenrywaswalkingbesideherpitifully,comically.“JeanLouise,willyou
pleaselistentome?”“Goddamnyou,what?”“Ijustwanttoaskyouone
thing,onething—whatthe
helldoyouexpectmetodo?Tellme,whatthehelldoyouexpectmetodo?”“Do?Iexpectyoutokeep
yourgold-platedassoutofcitizens’councils!Idon’tgiveadamnifAtticusissittingacrossfromyou,iftheKingofEngland’sonyourrightandtheLordJehovah’sonyourleft—Iexpectyoutobeaman,that’sall!”Shedrewinherbreath
sharply.“I—yougothrougha
goddamnedwar,that’sonekindofbeingscared,butyougetthroughit,yougetthroughit.Thenyoucomehometobescaredtherestofyourlife—scaredofMaycomb!Maycomb,Alabama—ohbrother!”Theyhadcometothedoor
oftheoffice.Henrygrabbedher
shoulders.“JeanLouise,willyoustoponesecond?Please?Listentome.IknowI’mnot
much,butthinkoneminute.Pleasethink.Thisismylife,thistown,don’tyouunderstandthat?Goddamnit,I’mpartofMaycombCounty’strash,butI’mpartofMaycombCounty.I’macoward,I’malittleman,I’mnotworthkilling,butthisismyhome.Whatdoyouwantmetodo,goshoutfromthehousetopsthatIamHenryClintonandI’mheretotellyouyou’reallwet?I’vegot
tolivehere,JeanLouise.Don’tyouunderstandthat?”“Iunderstandthatyou’rea
goddamnedhypocrite.”“Iamtryingtomakeyou
see,mydarling,thatyouarepermittedasweetluxuryI’mnot.Youcanshouttohighheaven,Icannot.HowcanIbeofanyusetoatownifit’sagainstme?IfIwentoutand—look,youwilladmitthatIhaveacertainamountofeducationandacertain
usefulnessinMaycomb—youadmitthat?Amillhandcan’tdomyjob.Now,shallIthrowallthatdownthedrain,gobackdownthecountytothestoreandsellpeopleflourwhenIcouldbehelpingthemwithwhatlegaltalentIhave?Whichisworthmore?”“Henry,howcanyoulive
withyourself?”“It’scomparativelyeasy.
SometimesIjustdon’tvotemyconvictions,that’sall.”
“Hank,wearepolesapart.Idon’tknowmuchbutIknowonething.IknowIcan’tlivewithyou.Icannotlivewithahypocrite.”Adry,pleasantvoice
behindhersaid,“Idon’tknowwhyyoucan’t.Hypocriteshavejustasmuchrighttoliveinthisworldasanybody.”Sheturnedaroundand
staredatherfather.Hishatwaspushedbackonhishead;
hiseyebrowswereraised;hewassmilingather.
17
“HANK,”SAIDATTICUS,“whydon’tyougohavealonglookattherosesonthesquare?Estellemightgiveyouoneifyouaskherright.LookslikeI’mtheonlyonewho’saskedherrighttoday.”Atticusputhishandtohis
lapel,wherewastuckeda
freshscarletbud.JeanLouiseglancedtowardthesquareandsawEstelle,blackagainsttheafternoonsun,steadilyhoeingunderthebushes.Henryheldouthishandto
JeanLouise,droppedittohisside,andleftwithoutaword.Shewatchedhimwalkacrossthestreet.“You’veknownallthat
abouthim?”“Certainly.”
Atticushadtreatedhimlikehisownson,hadgivenhimthelovethatwouldhavebeenJem’s—shewassuddenlyawarethattheywerestandingonthespotwhereJemdied.Atticussawhershudder.“It’sstillwithyou,isn’t
it?”hesaid.“Yes.”“Isn’titabouttimeyougot
overthat?Buryyourdead,JeanLouise.”
“Idon’twanttodiscussit.Iwanttomovesomewhereelse.”“Let’sgointheoffice,
then.”Herfather’sofficehad
alwaysbeenasourceofrefugeforher.Itwasfriendly.Itwasaplacewhere,iftroublesdidnotvanish,theyweremadebearable.Shewonderedifthosewerethesameabstracts,files,andprofessionalimpedimentaon
hisdeskthatweretherewhenshewouldrunin,outofbreath,desperateforanicecreamcone,andrequestanickel.Shecouldseehimswingaroundinhisswivelchairandstretchhislegs.Hewouldreachdowndeepintohispocket,pulloutahandfulofchange,andfromitselectaveryspecialnickelforher.Hisdoorwasneverclosedtohischildren.
Hesatslowlyandswungaroundtowardher.Shesawaflashofpaincrosshisfaceandleaveit.“Youknewallthatabout
Hank?”“Yes.”“Idon’tunderstandmen.”“We-ll,somemenwho
cheattheirwivesoutofgrocerymoneywouldn’tthinkofcheatingthegrocer.Mentendtocarrytheirhonestyinpigeonholes,Jean
Louise.Theycanbeperfectlyhonestinsomewaysandfoolthemselvesinotherways.Don’tbesohardonHank,he’scomingalong.Jacktellsmeyou’reupsetaboutsomething.”“Jacktoldyou—”“Calledawhileagoand
said—amongotherthings—thatifyouweren’talreadyonthewarpathyou’dsoonbe.FromwhatIheard,youalreadyare.”
So.UncleJacktoldhim.Shewasaccustomednowtohavingherfamilydesertheronebyone.UncleJackwasthelaststrawandtohellwiththemall.Verywell,she’dtellhim.Tellhimandgo.Shewouldnotarguewithhim;thatwasuseless.Healwaysbeather:she’dneverwonanargumentfromhiminherlifeandshedidnotproposetotrynow.
“Yessir,I’mupsetaboutsomething.Thatcitizens’councilin’you’redoing.Ithinkit’sdisgustingandI’lltellyouthatrightnow.”Herfatherleanedbackin
hischair.Hesaid,“JeanLouise,you’vebeenreadingnothingbutNewYorkpapers.I’venodoubtallyouseeiswildthreatsandbombingsandsuch.TheMaycombcouncil’snotliketheNorthAlabamaand
Tennesseekinds.Ourcouncil’scomposedofandledbyourownpeople.Ibetyousawnearlyeverymaninthecountyyesterday,andyouknewnearlyeverymanthere.”“Yessir,Idid.Everyman
fromthatsnakeWilloughbyondown.”“Eachmantherewas
probablythereforadifferentreason,”saidherfather.
Nowarwaseverfoughtforsomanydifferentreasons.Whosaidthat?“Yeah,buttheyallmetforonereason.”“Icantellyouthetwo
reasonsIwasthere.TheFederalGovernmentandtheNAACP.JeanLouise,whatwasyourfirstreactiontotheSupremeCourtdecision?”Thatwasasafequestion.
Shewouldanswerhim.“Iwasfurious,”shesaid.
Shewas.Shehadknownitwascoming,knewwhatitwouldbe,hadthoughtshewaspreparedforit,butwhensheboughtanewspaperonthestreetcornerandreadit,shestoppedatthefirstbarshecametoanddrankdownastraightbourbon.“Why?”“Wellsir,theretheywere,
tellin’uswhattodoagain—”Herfathergrinned.“You
weremerelyreacting
accordingtoyourkind,”hesaid.“Whenyoustartedusingyourhead,whatdidyouthink?”“Nothingmuch,butit
scaredme.Itseemedallbackward—theywereputtingthecartwayoutinfrontofthehorse.”“Howso?”Hewasproddingher.Let
him.Theywereonsafeground.“Well,intryingtosatisfyoneamendment,it
looksliketheyrubbedoutanotherone.TheTenth.It’sonlyasmallamendment,onlyonesentencelong,butitseemedtobetheonethatmeantthemost,somehow.”“Didyouthinkthisoutfor
yourself?”“Why,yessir.Atticus,I
don’tknowanythingabouttheConstitution….”“Youseemtobe
constitutionallysoundsofar.Proceed.”
Proceedwithwhat?Tellhimshecouldn’tlookhimintheeye?HewantedherviewsontheConstitution,thenhe’dhave’em:“Well,itseemedthattomeettherealneedsofasmallportionofthepopulation,theCourtsetupsomethinghorriblethatcould—thatcouldaffectthevastmajorityoffolks.Adversely,thatis.Atticus,Idon’tknowanythingaboutit—allwehaveistheConstitution
betweenusandanythingsomesmartfellowwantstostart,andtherewenttheCourtjustbreezilycancelingonewholeamendment,itseemedtome.Wehaveasystemofchecksandbalancesandthings,butwhenitcomesdowntoitwedon’thavemuchcheckontheCourt,sowho’llbellthecat?Ohdear,I’msoundin’liketheActorsStudio.”“What?”
“Nothing.I’m—I’mjusttryingtosaythatintryingtodorightwe’veleftourselvesopenforsomethingthatcouldbetrulydangeroustoourset-up.”Sheranherfingersthrough
herhair.Shelookedattherowsofbrown-and-blackboundbooks,lawreports,onthewallopposite.ShelookedatafadedpictureoftheNineOldMenonthewalltotheleftofher.IsRobertsdead?
shewondered.Shecouldnotremember.Herfather’svoicewas
patient:“Youweresaying—?”“Yessir.IwassayingthatI
—Idon’tknowmuchaboutgovernmentandeconomicsandallthat,andIdon’twanttoknowmuch,butIdoknowthattheFederalGovernmenttome,toonesmallcitizen,ismostlydrearyhallwaysandwaitingaround.Themorewe
have,thelongerwewaitandthetirederweget.Thoseoldmossbacksonthewallupthereknewit—butnow,insteadofgoingaboutitthroughCongressandthestatelegislatureslikeweshould,whenwetriedtodorightwejustmadeiteasierforthemtosetupmorehallwaysandmorewaiting—”Herfathersatupand
laughed.
“ItoldyouIdidn’tknowanythingaboutit.”“Sweet,you’resucha
states’rightistyoumakemeaRooseveltLiberalbycomparison.”“States’rightist?”Atticussaid,“Nowthat
I’veadjustedmyeartofemininereasoning,Ithinkwefindourselvesbelievingtheverysamethings.”Shehadbeenhalfwilling
tospongeoutwhatshehad
seenandheard,creepbacktoNewYork,andmakehimamemory.Amemoryofthethreeofthem,Atticus,Jem,andher,whenthingswereuncomplicatedandpeopledidnotlie.Butshewouldnothavehimcompoundthefelony.Shecouldnotlethimaddhypocrisytoit:“Atticus,ifyoubelieveall
that,thenwhydon’tyoudoright?Imeanthis,thatnomatterhowhatefultheCourt
was,therehadtobeabeginning—”“Youmeanbecausethe
Courtsaiditwemusttakeit?Noma’am.Idon’tseeitthatway.IfyouthinkIforonecitizenamgoingtotakeitlyingdown,you’requitewrong.Asyousay,JeanLouise,there’sonlyonethinghigherthantheCourtinthiscountry,andthat’stheConstitution—”
“Atticus,wearetalkingatcross-purposes.”“Youaredodging
something.Whatisit?”Thedarktower.Childe
Rolandtothedarktowercame.Highschoollit.UncleJack.Iremembernow.“Whatisit?I’mtryingto
saythatIdon’tapproveofthewaytheydidit,thatitscaresmetodeathwhenIthinkaboutthewaytheydidit,buttheyhadtodoit.Itwasput
undertheirnosesandtheyhadtodoit.Atticus,thetimehascomewhenwe’vegottodoright—”“Doright?”“Yessir.Give’ema
chance.”“TheNegroes?Youdon’t
thinktheyhaveachance?”“Why,nosir.”“What’stopreventany
Negrofromgoingwherehepleasesinthiscountryandfindingwhathewants?”
“That’saloadedquestionandyouknowit,sir!I’msosickofthismoraldouble-dealingIcould—”Hehadstungher,andshe
hadshownhimshefeltit.Butshecouldnothelpherself.Herfatherpickedupa
pencilandtappeditonhisdesk.“JeanLouise,”hesaid.“Haveyoueverconsideredthatyoucan’thaveasetofbackwardpeoplelivingamongpeopleadvancedin
onekindofcivilizationandhaveasocialArcadia?”“You’requeeringthepitch
onme,Atticus,solet’skeepthesociologyoutofitforasecond.OfcourseIknowthat,butIheardsomethingonce.Iheardaslogananditstuckinmyhead.Iheard‘Equalrightsforall;specialprivilegesfornone,’andtomeitdidn’tmeananythingbutwhatitsaid.Itdidn’tmeanonecardoffthetopof
thestackforthewhitemanandoneoffthebottomfortheNegro,it—”“Let’slookatitthisway,”
saidherfather.“YourealizethatourNegropopulationisbackward,don’tyou?Youwillconcedethat?Yourealizethefullimplicationsoftheword‘backward,’don’tyou?”“Yessir.”“Yourealizethatthevast
majorityofthemhereinthe
Southareunabletosharefullyintheresponsibilitiesofcitizenship,andwhy?”“Yessir.”“Butyouwantthemto
haveallitsprivileges?”“Goddamnit,you’re
twistingitup!”“There’snopointinbeing
profane.Thinkthisover:AbbottCounty,acrosstheriver,isinbadtrouble.Thepopulationisalmostthree-fourthsNegro.Thevoting
populationisalmosthalf-and-halfnow,becauseofthatbigNormalSchooloverthere.Ifthescalesweretippedover,whatwouldyouhave?Thecountywon’tkeepafullboardofregistrars,becauseiftheNegrovoteedgedoutthewhiteyou’dhaveNegroesineverycountyoffice—”“Whatmakesyouso
sure?”“Honey,”hesaid.“Use
yourhead.Whentheyvote,
theyvoteinblocs.”“Atticus,you’relikethat
oldpublisherwhosentoutastaffartisttocovertheSpanish-AmericanWar.‘Youdrawthepictures.I’llmakethewar.’You’reascynicalashewas.”“JeanLouise,I’monly
tryingtotellyousomeplaintruths.Youmustseethingsastheyare,aswellastheyshouldbe.”
“Thenwhydidn’tyoushowmethingsastheyarewhenIsatonyourlap?Whydidn’tyoushowme,whyweren’tyoucarefulwhenyoureadmehistoryandthethingsthatIthoughtmeantsomethingtoyouthattherewasafencearoundeverythingmarked‘WhiteOnly’?”“Youareinconsistent,”
saidherfathermildly.“Whyso?”
“YouslangtheSupremeCourtwithinaninchofitslife,thenyouturnaroundandtalkliketheNAACP.”“GoodLord,Ididn’tget
madwiththeCourtbecauseoftheNegroes.Negroesslappedthebriefonthebench,allright,butthatwasn’twhatmademefurious.Iwasravin’atwhattheyweredoingtotheTenthAmendmentandallthefuzzy
thinking.TheNegroeswere—”Incidentaltotheissuein
thiswar…toyourownprivatewar.“Youcarryacardthese
days?”“Whydidn’tyouhitme
instead?ForGod’ssake,Atticus!”Herfathersighed.The
linesaroundhismouthdeepened.Hishandswith
theirswollenjointsfumbledwithhisyellowpencil.“JeanLouise,”hesaid,“let
metellyousomethingrightnow,asplainlyasIcanputit.Iamold-fashioned,butthisIbelievewithallmyheart.I’masortofJeffersonianDemocrat.Doyouknowwhatthatis?”“Huh,Ithoughtyouvoted
forEisenhower.IthoughtJeffersonwasoneofthegreat
soulsoftheDemocraticPartyorsomething.”“Gobacktoschool,”her
fathersaid.“AlltheDemocraticPartyhastodowithJeffersonthesedaysisputhispictureupatbanquets.Jeffersonbelievedfullcitizenshipwasaprivilegetobeearnedbyeachman,thatitwasnotsomethinggivenlightlynortobetakenlightly.Amancouldn’tvotesimplybecausehewasaman,in
Jefferson’seyes.Hehadtobearesponsibleman.Avotewas,toJefferson,apreciousprivilegeamanattainedforhimselfina—alive-and-let-liveeconomy.”“Atticus,youarerewriting
history.”“NoI’mnot.Itmight
benefityoutogobackandhavealookatwhatsomeofourfoundingfathersreallybelieved,insteadofrelyingso
muchonwhatpeoplethesedaystellyoutheybelieved.”“Youmightbea
Jeffersonian,butyou’renoDemocrat.”“NeitherwasJefferson.”“Thenwhatareyou,asnob
orsomething?”“Yes.I’llacceptbeing
calledasnobwhenitcomestogovernment.I’dlikeverymuchtobeleftalonetomanagemyownaffairsinalive-and-let-liveeconomy,I’d
likeformystatetobeleftalonetokeephousewithoutadvicefromtheNAACP,whichknowsnexttonothingaboutitsbusinessandcaresless.Thatorganizationhasstirredupmoretroubleinthepastfiveyears—”“Atticus,theNAACP
hasn’tdonehalfofwhatI’veseeninthepasttwodays.It’sus.”“Us?”
“Yessir,us.You.Hasanybody,inallthewranglingandhighwordsoverstates’rightsandwhatkindofgovernmentweshouldhave,thoughtabouthelpingtheNegroes?“Wemissedtheboat,
Atticus.WesatbackandlettheNAACPcomeinbecauseweweresofuriousatwhatweknewtheCourtwasgoingtodo,sofuriousatwhatitdid,wenaturallystarted
shoutingnigger.Tookitoutonthem,becauseweresentedthegovernment.“Whenitcamewedidn’t
giveaninch,wejustraninstead.Whenweshouldhavetriedtohelp’emlivewiththedecision,itwaslikeBonaparte’sretreatweransofast.Iguessit’sthefirsttimeinourhistorythatweeverran,andwhenweranwelost.Wherecouldtheygo?Whocouldtheyturnto?Ithinkwe
deserveeverythingwe’vegottenfromtheNAACPandmore.”“Idon’tthinkyoumean
whatyou’resaying.”“Imeaneverywordofit.”“Thenlet’sputthisona
practicalbasisrightnow.DoyouwantNegroesbythecarloadinourschoolsandchurchesandtheaters?Doyouwanttheminourworld?”“They’repeople,aren’t
they?Wewerequitewilling
toimportthemwhentheymademoneyforus.”“Doyouwantyour
childrengoingtoaschoolthat’sbeendraggeddowntoaccommodateNegrochildren?”“Thescholasticlevelof
thatschooldownthestreet,Atticus,couldn’tbeanylowerandyouknowit.They’reentitledtothesameopportunitiesanyoneelsehas,
they’reentitledtothesamechance—”Herfatherclearedhis
throat.“Listen,Scout,you’reupsetbyhavingseenmedoingsomethingyouthinkiswrong,butI’mtryingtomakeyouunderstandmyposition.Desperatelytrying.Thisismerelyforyourowninformation,that’sall:sofarinmyexperience,whiteiswhiteandblack’sblack.Sofar,I’venotyetheardan
argumentthathasconvincedmeotherwise.I’mseventy-twoyearsold,butI’mstillopentosuggestion.“Nowthinkaboutthis.
WhatwouldhappenifalltheNegroesintheSouthweresuddenlygivenfullcivilrights?I’lltellyou.There’dbeanotherReconstruction.Wouldyouwantyourstategovernmentsrunbypeoplewhodon’tknowhowtorun’em?Doyouwantthistown
runby—nowwaitaminute—Willoughby’sacrook,weknowthat,butdoyouknowofanyNegrowhoknowsasmuchasWilloughby?Zeebo’dprobablybeMayorofMaycomb.WouldyouwantsomeoneofZeebo’scapabilitytohandlethetown’smoney?We’reoutnumbered,youknow.“Honey,youdonotseem
tounderstandthattheNegroesdownherearestillin
theirchildhoodasapeople.Youshouldknowit,you’veseenitallyourlife.They’vemadeterrificprogressinadaptingthemselvestowhiteways,butthey’refarfromityet.Theywerecomingalongfine,travelingataratetheycouldabsorb,moreof’emvotingthaneverbefore.ThentheNAACPsteppedinwithitsfantasticdemandsandshoddyideasofgovernment—canyoublametheSouth
forresentingbeingtoldwhattodoaboutitsownpeoplebypeoplewhohavenoideaofitsdailyproblems?“TheNAACPdoesn’tcare
whetheraNegromanownsorrentshisland,howwellhecanfarm,orwhetherornothetriestolearnatradeandstandonhisowntwofeet—ohno,alltheNAACPcaresaboutisthatman’svote.“So,canyoublamethe
Southforwantingtoresistan
invasionbypeoplewhoareapparentlysoashamedoftheirracetheywanttogetridofit?“Howcanyouhavegrown
uphere,ledthekindoflifeyou’veled,andcanonlyseesomeonestompingontheTenthAmendment?JeanLouise,they’retryingtowreckus—wherehaveyoubeen?”“RighthereinMaycomb.”“Whatdoyoumean?”
“ImeanIgrewuprighthereinyourhouse,andIneverknewwhatwasinyourmind.Ionlyheardwhatyousaid.YouneglectedtotellmethatwewerenaturallybetterthantheNegroes,blesstheirkinkyheads,thattheywereabletogosofarbutsofaronly,youneglectedtotellmewhatMr.O’Hanlontoldmeyesterday.Thatwasyoutalkingdownthere,butyouletMr.O’Hanlonsayit.
You’reacowardaswellasasnobandatyrant,Atticus.Whenyoutalkedofjusticeyouforgottosaythatjusticeissomethingthathasnothingtodowithpeople—“Iheardyouonthesubject
ofZeebo’sboythismorning…nothingtodowithourCalpurniaandwhatshe’smeanttous,howfaithfulshe’sbeentous—yousawnigger,yousawNAACP,you
balancedtheequities,didn’tyou?“Irememberthatrapecase
youdefended,butImissedthepoint.Youlovejustice,allright.Abstractjusticewrittendownitembyitemonabrief—nothingtodowiththatblackboy,youjustlikeaneatbrief.Hiscauseinterferedwithyourorderlymind,andyouhadtoworkorderoutofdisorder.It’sacompulsion
withyou,andnowit’scominghometoyou—”Shewasonherfeet,
holdingthebackofthechair.“Atticus,I’mthrowingitat
youandI’mgonnagrinditin:youbettergowarnyouryoungerfriendsthatiftheywanttopreserveOurWayofLife,itbeginsathome.Itdoesn’tbeginwiththeschoolsorthechurchesoranyplacebuthome.Tell’emthat,anduseyourblind,
immoral,misguided,nigger-lovin’daughterasyourexample.Goinfrontofmewithabellandsay,‘Unclean!’Pointmeoutasyourmistake.Pointmeout:JeanLouiseFinch,whowasexposedtoallkindsofgufffromthewhitetrashshewenttoschoolwith,butshemightneverhavegonetoschoolforalltheinfluenceithadonher.EverythingthatwasGospeltohershegotathomefrom
herfather.Yousowedtheseedsinme,Atticus,andnowit’scominghometoyou—”“Areyoufinishedwith
whatyouhavetosay?”Shesneered.“Nothalf
through.I’llneverforgiveyouforwhatyoudidtome.Youcheatedme,you’vedrivenmeoutofmyhomeandnowI’minano-man’s-landbutgood—there’snoplaceformeanymoreinMaycomb,andI’llneverbe
entirelyathomeanywhereelse.”Hervoicecracked.“Why
inthenameofGoddidn’tyoumarryagain?Marrysomenicedim-wittedSouthernladywhowouldhaveraisedmeright?Turnedmeintoasimpering,mealy-mouthedmagnoliatypewhobatshereyelashesandcrossesherhandsandlivesfornothingbutherlil’olehus-band.AtleastIwouldhave
beenblissful.I’dhavebeentypicalonehundredpercentMaycomb;Iwouldhavelivedoutmylittlelifeandgivenyougrandchildrentodoteon;IwouldhavespreadoutlikeAunty,fannedmyselfonthefrontporch,anddiedhappy.Whydidn’tyoutellmethedifferencebetweenjusticeandjustice,andrightandright?Whydidn’tyou?”“Ididn’tthinkitnecessary,
nordoIthinksonow.”
“Well,itwasnecessaryandyouknowit.God!AndspeakingofGod,whydidn’tyoumakeitveryplaintomethatGodmadetheracesandputtheblackfolksinAfricawiththeintentionofkeepingthemtheresothemissionariescouldgotellthemthatJesusloved’embutmeantfor’emtostayinAfrica?Thatusbringing’emoverherewasallabadmistake,sothey’retoblame?
ThatJesuslovedallmankind,buttherearedifferentkindsofmenwithseparatefencesaround’em,thatJesusmeantthatanymancangoasfarashewantswithinthatfence—”“JeanLouise,comedown
toearth.”Hesaiditsoeasilythatshe
stoppedshort.Herwaveofinvectivehadcrashedoverhimandstillhesatthere.Hehaddeclinedtobeangry.Somewherewithinhershe
feltthatshewasnoladybutnopoweronearthwouldpreventhimfrombeingagentleman,yetthepistoninsidedroveheron:“Allright,I’llcomedown
toearth.I’lllandrightinthelivingroomofourhouse.I’llcomedowntoyou.Ibelievedinyou.Ilookeduptoyou,Atticus,likeIneverlookeduptoanybodyinmylifeandneverwillagain.Ifyouhadonlygivenmesomehint,if
youhadonlybrokenyourwordwithmeacoupleoftimes,ifyouhadbeenbad-temperedorimpatientwithme—ifyouhadbeenalesserman,maybeIcouldhavetakenwhatIsawyoudoing.Ifonceortwiceyou’dletmecatchyoudoingsomethingvile,thenIwouldhaveunderstoodyesterday.ThenI’dhavesaidthat’sjustHisWay,that’sMyOldMan,becauseI’dhavebeen
preparedforitsomewherealongtheline—”Herfather’sfacewas
compassionate,almostpleading.“YouseemtothinkI’minvolvedinsomethingpositivelyevil,”hesaid.“Thecouncil’souronlydefense,JeanLouise—”“IsMr.O’Hanlonouronly
defense?”“Baby,Mr.O’Hanlon’s
not,I’mhappytosay,typicaloftheMaycombCounty
councilmembership.Ihopeyounoticedmybrevityinintroducinghim.”“Youweresortofshort,
butAtticus,thatman—”“Mr.O’Hanlon’snot
prejudiced,JeanLouise.He’sasadist.”“Thenwhydidyoualllet
himgetupthere?”“Becausehewantedto.”“Sir?”“Ohyes,”saidherfather
vaguely.“Hegoesabout
addressingcitizens’councilsalloverthestate.Heaskedpermissiontospeaktooursandwegaveittohim.Iratherthinkhe’spaidbysomeorganizationinMassachusetts—”Herfatherswungaway
fromherandlookedoutthewindow.“I’vebeentryingtomakeyouseethattheMaycombcouncil,atanyrate,issimplyamethodofdefenseagainst—”
“Defense,hell!Atticus,wearen’tontheConstitutionnow.I’mtryingtomakeyouseesomething.Younow,youtreatallpeoplealike.I’veneverinmylifeseenyougivethatinsolent,back-of-the-handtreatmenthalfthewhitepeopledownheregiveNegroesjustwhenthey’retalkingtothem,justwhentheyask’emtodosomething.There’snoget-along-there-
niggerinyourvoicewhenyoutalkto’em.“Yetyouputoutyourhand
infrontofthemasapeopleandsay,‘Stophere.Thisisasfarasyoucango!’”“Ithoughtweagreedthat
—”Hervoicewasheavywith
sarcasm:“We’veagreedthatthey’rebackward,thatthey’reilliterate,thatthey’redirtyandcomicalandshiftlessandnogood,they’reinfantsand
they’restupid,someofthem,butwehaven’tagreedononethingandweneverwill.Youdenythatthey’rehuman.”“Howso?”“Youdenythemhope.Any
maninthisworld,Atticus,anymanwhohasaheadandarmsandlegs,wasbornwithhopeinhisheart.Youwon’tfindthatintheConstitution,Ipickedthatupinchurchsomewhere.Theyaresimplepeople,mostofthem,butthat
doesn’tmakethemsubhuman.“Youaretellingthemthat
Jesuslovesthem,butnotmuch.Youareusingfrightfulmeanstojustifyendsthatyouthinkareforthegoodofthemostpeople.Yourendsmaywellberight—IthinkIbelieveinthesameends—butyoucannotusepeopleasyourpawns,Atticus.Youcannot.HitlerandthatcrowdinRussia’vedonesomelovely
thingsfortheirlands,andtheyslaughteredtensofmillionsofpeopledoing’em….”Atticussmiled.“Hitler,
eh?”“You’renobetter.You’re
nodamnbetter.Youjusttrytokilltheirsoulsinsteadoftheirbodies.Youjusttrytotell’em,‘Look,begood.Behaveyourselves.Ifyou’regoodandmindus,youcangetalotoutoflife,butifyou
don’tmindus,wewillgiveyounothingandtakeawaywhatwe’vealreadygivenyou.’“Iknowit’sgottobeslow,
Atticus,Iknowthatfullwell.ButIknowit’sgottobe.IwonderwhatwouldhappeniftheSouthhada‘BeKindtotheNiggersWeek’?IfjustforoneweektheSouthwouldshowthemsomesimple,impartialcourtesy.Iwonderwhatwouldhappen.Doyou
thinkit’dgive’emairsorthebeginningsofself-respect?Haveyoueverbeensnubbed,Atticus?Doyouknowhowitfeels?No,don’ttellmethey’rechildrenanddon’tfeelit:Iwasachildandfeltit,sogrownchildrenmustfeel,too.Arealgoodsnub,Atticus,makesyoufeellikeyou’retoonastytoassociatewithpeople.Howthey’reasgoodastheyarenowisamysterytome,aftera
hundredyearsofsystematicdenialthatthey’rehuman.Iwonderwhatkindofmiraclewecouldworkwithaweek’sdecency.“Therewasnopointin
sayinganyofthisbecauseIknowyouwon’tgiveaninchandyouneverwill.You’vecheatedmeinawaythat’sinexpressible,butdon’tletitworryyou,becausethejokeisentirelyonme.You’retheonlypersonIthinkI’veever
fullytrustedandnowI’mdonefor.”“I’vekilledyou,Scout.I
hadto.”“Don’tyougivemeany
moredouble-talk!You’reanice,sweet,oldgentleman,andI’llneverbelieveawordyousaytomeagain.Idespiseyouandeverythingyoustandfor.”“Well,Iloveyou.”“Don’tyoudaresaythatto
me!Loveme,huh!Atticus,
I’mgettingoutofthisplacefast,Idon’tknowwhereI’mgoingbutI’mgoing.IneverwanttoseeanotherFinchorhearofoneaslongasIlive!”“Asyouplease.”“Youdouble-dealing,ring-
tailedoldsonofabitch!Youjustsitthereandsay‘Asyouplease’whenyou’veknockedmedownandstompedonmeandspatonme,youjustsitthereandsay‘Asyouplease’wheneverythingIeverloved
inthisworld’s—youjustsitthereandsay‘Asyouplease’—youloveme!Yousonofabitch!”“That’lldo,JeanLouise.”That’lldo,hisgeneralcall
toorderinthedayswhenshebelieved.Sohekillsmeandgivesitatwist…howcanhetauntmeso?Howcanhetreatmeso?Godinheaven,takemeawayfromhere…Godinheaven,takemeaway….
PARTVII
18
SHENEVERKNEWhowshegotthecarstarted,howshehelditintheroad,howshegothomewithoutaseriousaccident.Iloveyou.Asyouplease.
Hadhenotsaidthat,perhapsshewouldhavesurvived.Ifhehadfoughtherfairly,she
couldhaveflunghiswordsbackathim,butshecouldnotcatchmercuryandholditinherhands.Shewenttoherroomand
threwhersuitcaseontothebed.Iwasbornrightwherethissuitcaseis.Whydidn’tyouthrottlemethen?Whydidyouletmelivethislong?“JeanLouise,whatareyou
doing?”“Packing,Aunty.”
Alexandracametothesideofthebed.“Youhavetenmoredayswithus.Issomethingwrong?”“Aunty,leavemealonefor
Christ’ssake!”Alexandrabridled.“I’ll
thankyounottousethatYankeeexpressioninthishouse!What’swrong?”JeanLouisewenttothe
closet,snatchedherdressesfromtheirhangers,returned
tothebed,andcrammedthemintohersuitcase.“That’snowaytopack,”
saidAlexandra.“It’smyway.”Shescoopeduphershoes
frombesidethebedandthrewtheminafterherdresses.“Whatisit,JeanLouise?”“Aunty,youmayissuea
communiquétotheeffectthatIamgoingsofarawayfromMaycombCountyit’lltake
meahundredyearstogetback!Ineverwanttoseeitoranybodyinitagain,andthatgoesforeveryoneofyou,theundertaker,theprobatejudge,andthechairmanoftheboardoftheMethodistChurch!”“You’vehadafightwith
Atticus,haven’tyou?”“Ihave.”Alexandrasatonthebed
andclaspedherhands.“JeanLouise,Idon’tknowwhatitwasabout,andthewayyou
lookitmusthavebeenbad,butIdoknowthis.NoFinchruns.”Sheturnedtoheraunt:
“JesusChrist,don’tyougotellingmewhataFinchdoesandwhataFinchdoesn’tdo!I’muptoherewithwhatFinchesdo,andIcan’ttakeitonesecondlonger!You’vebeenrammingthatdownmythroateversinceIwasborn—yourfatherthis,theFinchesthat!Myfather’ssomething
unspeakableandUncleJack’slikeAliceinWonderland!Andyou,youareapompous,narrow-mindedold—”JeanLouisestopped,
fascinatedbythetearsrunningdownAlexandra’scheeks.ShehadneverseenAlexandracry;Alexandralookedlikeotherpeoplewhenshecried.“Aunty,pleaseforgiveme.
Pleasesayit—Ihityoubelowthebelt.”
Alexandra’sfingerspulledtuftsoftattingfromthebedspread.“That’sallright.Don’tyouworryaboutit.”JeanLouisekissedher
aunt’scheek.“Ihaven’tbeenonthetracktoday.Iguesswhenyou’rehurtyourfirstinstinct’stohurtback.I’mnotmuchofalady,Aunty,butyouare.”“You’remistaken,Jean
Louise,ifyouthinkyou’renolady,”saidAlexandra.She
wipedhereyes.“Butyouarerightpeculiarsometimes.”JeanLouiseclosedher
suitcase.“Aunty,yougoonthinkingI’malady,justforalittlewhile,justuntilfiveo’clockwhenAtticuscomeshome.Thenyou’llfindoutdifferent.Well,goodbye.”Shewascarryingher
suitcasetothecarwhenshesawthetown’sonewhitetaxidriveupanddepositDr.Finchonthesidewalk.
Cometome.Whenyoucan’tstanditanylonger,cometome.Well,Ican’tstandyouanylonger.Ijustcan’ttakeanymoreofyourparablesanddidderingaround.Leavemealone.Youarefunandsweetandallthat,butpleaseleavemealone.Fromthecornerofhereye,
shewatchedheruncletackingpeacefullyupthedriveway.Hetakessuchlongstepsforashortman,shethought.That
isoneofthethingsIwillrememberabouthim.Sheturnedandputakeyinthelockofthetrunk,thewrongkey,andshetriedanotherone.Itworked,andsheraisedthelid.“Goingsomewhere?”“Yessir.”“Where?”“I’mgonnagetinthiscar
anddriveittoMaycombJunctionandsitthereuntilthefirsttraincomesalongand
getonit.TellAtticusifhewantshiscarbackhecansendafterit.”“Stopfeelingsorryfor
yourselfandlistentome.”“UncleJack,Iamsosick
anddamntiredoflisteningtothelotofyouIcouldyellbloodymurder!Won’tyouleavemealone?Can’tyougetoffmybackforoneminute?”Sheslammeddownthe
trunklid,snatchedoutthe
key,andstraighteneduptocatchDr.Finch’ssavagebackhandswipefullonthemouth.Herheadjerkedtotheleft
andmethishandcomingviciouslyback.Shestumbledandgropedforthecartobalanceherself.Shesawheruncle’sfaceshimmeringamongthetinydancinglights.“Iamtrying,”saidDr.
Finch,“toattractyour
attention.”Shepressedherfingersto
hereyes,hertemples,tothesidesofherhead.Shestruggledtokeepfromfainting,tokeepfromvomiting,tokeepherheadfromspinning.Shefeltbloodspringtoherteeth,andshespatblindlyontheground.Gradually,thegonglikereverberationsinherheadsubsided,andherearsstoppedringing.
“Openyoureyes,JeanLouise.”Sheblinkedseveraltimes,
andherunclesnappedintofocus.Hiswalkingsticknestledinhisleftelbow;hisvestwasimmaculate;therewasascarletrosebudinhislapel.Hewasholdingouthis
handkerchieftoher.Shetookitandwipedhermouth.Shewasexhausted.“Allpassionspent?”
Shenodded.“Ican’tfightthemanymore,”shesaid.Dr.Finchtookherbythe
arm.“Butyoucan’tjoin’em,either,canyou?”hemuttered.Shefelthermouthswelling
andshemovedherlipswithdifficulty.“Younearlyknockedmecold.I’msotired.”Silently,hewalkedherto
thehouse,downthehall,andintothebathroom.Hesatherontheedgeofthetub,went
tothemedicinecabinet,andopenedit.Heputonhisglasses,tiltedhisheadback,andtookabottlefromthetopshelf.Hepluckedawadofcottonfromapackageandturnedtoher.“Holdupyourmug,”he
said.Hefilledthecottonwithliquid,turnedbacktoherupperlip,madeahideousface,anddabbedathercuts.“This’llkeepyoufromgiving
yourselfsomething.Zandra!”heshouted.Alexandraappearedfrom
thekitchen.“Whatisit,Jack?JeanLouise,Ithoughtyou—”“Nevermindthat.Isthere
anymissionaryvanillainthishouse?”“Jack,don’tbesilly.”“Comeon,now.Iknow
youkeepitforfruitcakes.GraciousGod,Sister,getmesomewhiskey!Gointhelivingroom,JeanLouise.”
Shewalkedinherdazetothelivingroomandsatdown.Herunclecameincarryinginonehandatumblerthreefingersfulofwhiskey,andintheotheraglassofwater.“Ifyoudrinkallthisat
onceI’llgiveyouadime,”hesaid.JeanLouisedrankand
choked.“Holdyourbreath,stupid.
Nowchaseit.”
Shegrabbedforthewateranddrankrapidly.Shekepthereyesclosedandletthewarmalcoholcreepthroughher.Whensheopenedthemshesawherunclesittingonthesofacontemplatingherplacidly.Presentlyhesaid,“Howdo
youfeel?”“Hot.”“That’stheliquor.Tellme
what’sinyourheadnow.”
Shesaidweakly:“Ablank,mylord.”“Fractiousgirl,don’tyou
quoteatme!Tellme,howdoyoufeel?”Shefrowned,squeezedher
eyelidstogether,andtouchedhertendermouthwithhertongue.“Different,somehow.I’msittingrighthere,andit’sjustlikeI’msittinginmyapartmentinNewYork.Idon’tknow—Ifeelfunny.”
Dr.Finchroseandthrusthishandsintohispockets,drewthemout,andcradledhisarmsbehindhisback.“We-llnow,IthinkI’lljustgoandhavemyselfadrinkonthat.Ineverstruckawomanbeforeinmylife.ThinkI’llgostrikeyourauntandseewhathappens.Youjustsitthereforawhileandbequiet.”JeanLouisesatthere,and
giggledwhensheheardher
unclefussingathissisterinthekitchen.“OfcourseI’mgoingtohaveadrink,Zandra.Ideserveone.Idon’tgoabouthittin’womeneveryday,andItellyouifyou’renotusedtoit,ittakesitoutofyou…oh,she’sallright…Ifailtodetectthedifferencebetweendrinkingitandeatin’it…we’reallofusgoingtohell,it’sjustaquestionoftime…don’tbesuchanoldpot,Sister,I’mnotlyin’on
theflooryet…whydon’tyouhaveone?”Shefeltthattimehad
stoppedandshewasinsideanotunpleasantvacuum.Therewasnolandaround,andnobeings,buttherewasanauraofvaguefriendlinessinthisindifferentplace.I’mgettinghigh,shethought.Herunclebouncedback
intothelivingroom,sippingfromatallglassfilledwithice,water,andwhiskey.
“LookwhatIgotoutofZandra.I’veplayedhellwithherfruitcakes.”JeanLouiseattemptedto
pinhimdown:“UncleJack,”shesaid.“Ihaveadefiniteideathatyouknowwhathappenedthisafternoon.”“Ido.Iknoweveryword
yousaidtoAtticus,andIalmostheardyoufrommyhousewhenyoulitintoHenry.”
Theoldbastard,hefollowedmetotown.“Youeavesdropped?Ofall
the—”“Ofcoursenot.Doyou
thinkyoucandiscussitnow?”Discussit?“Yes,Ithink
so.Thatis,ifyou’lltalkstraighttome.Idon’tthinkIcantakeBishopColensonow.”Dr.Fincharrangedhimself
neatlyonthesofaandleaned
intowardher.Hesaid,“Iwilltalkstraighttoyou,mydarling.Doyouknowwhy?BecauseIcan,now.”“Becauseyoucan?”“Yes.Lookback,Jean
Louise.Lookbacktoyesterday,totheCoffeethismorning,tothisafternoon—”“Whatdoyouknowabout
thismorning?”“Haveyouneverheardof
thetelephone?Zandrawasgladtoanswerafew
judiciousquestions.Youtelegraphyourpitchesallovertheplace,JeanLouise.ThisafternoonItriedtogiveyousomehelpinaroundaboutwaytomakeiteasierforyou,togiveyousomeinsight,tosoftenitalittle—”“Tosoftenwhat,Uncle
Jack?”“Tosoftenyourcoming
intothisworld.”
WhenDr.Finchpulledathisdrink,JeanLouisesawhissharpbrowneyesflashabovetheglass.That’swhatyoutendtoforgetabouthim,shethought.He’ssobusyfidgetingyoudon’tnoticehowcloselyhe’swatchingyou.He’scrazy,allright,likeeveryfoxthatwaseverborn.Andheknowssomuchmorethanfoxes.Gracious,I’mdrunk.
“…lookback,now,”herunclewassaying.“It’sstillthere,isn’tit?”Shelooked.Itwasthere,
allright.Everywordofit.Butsomethingwasdifferent.Shesatinsilence,remembering.“UncleJack,”shefinally
said.“Everything’sstillthere.Ithappened.Itwas.Butyouknow,it’sbearablesomehow.It’s—it’sbearable.”
Shewasspeakingthetruth.Shehadnotmadethejourneythroughtimethatmakesallthingsbearable.Todaywastoday,andshelookedatheruncleinwonder.“ThankGod,”saidDr.
Finchquietly.“Doyouknowwhyit’sbearablenow,mydarling?”“Nosir.I’mcontentwith
thingsastheyare.Idon’twanttoquestion,Ijustwanttostaythisway.”
Shewasconsciousofheruncle’seyesuponher,andshemovedherheadtooneside.Shewasfarfromtrustinghim:ifhestartsonMackworthPraedandtellsmeI’mjustlikehimI’llbeatMaycombJunctionbeforesundown.“You’deventuallyfigure
thisoutforyourself,”sheheardhimsay.“Butletmespeeditupforyou.You’vehadabusyday.It’sbearable,
JeanLouise,becauseyouareyourownpersonnow.”NotMackworthPraed’s,
mine.Shelookedupatheruncle.Dr.Finchstretchedouthis
legs.“It’srathercomplicated,”hesaid,“andIdon’twantyoutofallintothetiresomeerrorofbeingconceitedaboutyourcomplexes—you’dboreusfortherestofourliveswiththat,sowe’llkeepawayfrom
it.Everyman’sisland,JeanLouise,everyman’swatchman,ishisconscience.Thereisnosuchthingasacollectiveconscious.”Thiswasnews,coming
fromhim.Butlethimtalk,hewouldfindhiswaytothenineteenthcenturysomehow.“…nowyou,Miss,born
withyourownconscience,somewherealongthelinefasteneditlikeabarnacleontoyourfather’s.Asyou
grewup,whenyouweregrown,totallyunknowntoyourself,youconfusedyourfatherwithGod.Youneversawhimasamanwithaman’sheart,andaman’sfailings—I’llgrantyouitmayhavebeenhardtosee,hemakessofewmistakes,buthemakes’emlikeallofus.Youwereanemotionalcripple,leaningonhim,gettingtheanswersfromhim,assumingthatyouranswers
wouldalwaysbehisanswers.”Shelistenedtothefigure
onthesofa.“Whenyouhappened
alongandsawhimdoingsomethingthatseemedtoyoutobetheveryantithesisofhisconscience—yourconscience—youliterallycouldnotstandit.Itmadeyouphysicallyill.Lifebecamehellonearthforyou.Youhadtokillyourself,orhehadto
killyoutogetyoufunctioningasaseparateentity.”Killmyself.Killhim.Ihad
tokillhimtolive…“Youtalklikeyou’veknownthisalongtime.You—”“Ihave.So’syourfather.
Wewondered,sometimes,whenyourconscienceandhiswouldpartcompany,andoverwhat.”Dr.Finchsmiled.“Well,weknownow.I’mjustthankfulIwasaround
whentheructionsstarted.Atticuscouldn’ttalktoyouthewayI’mtalking—”“Whynot,sir?”“Youwouldn’thave
listenedtohim.Youcouldn’thavelistened.Ourgodsareremotefromus,JeanLouise.Theymustneverdescendtohumanlevel.”“Isthatwhyhedidn’t—
didn’tlamintome?Isthatwhyhedidn’teventrytodefendhimself?”
“Hewaslettingyoubreakyouriconsonebyone.Hewaslettingyoureducehimtothestatusofahumanbeing.”Iloveyou.Asyouplease.
Whereshewouldhavehadaspiritedargumentonly,anexchangeofideas,aclashofhardanddifferentpointsofviewwithafriend,withhimshehadtriedtodestroy.Shehadtriedtotearhimtopieces,towreckhim,to
obliteratehim.ChildeRolandtothedarktowercame.“Doyouunderstandme,
JeanLouise?”“Yes,UncleJack,I
understandyou.”Dr.Finchcrossedhislegs
andjammedhishandsintohispockets.“Whenyoustoppedrunning,JeanLouise,andturnedaround,thatturntookfantasticcourage.”“Sir?”
“Oh,notthekindofcouragethatmakesasoldiergoacrossno-man’s-land.That’sthekindthathesummonsupbecausehehasto.Thiskindis—well,itispartofone’swilltolive,partofone’sinstinctforself-preservation.Sometimes,wehavetokillalittlesowecanlive,whenwedon’t—whenwomendon’t,theycrythemselvestosleepandhavetheirmotherswashouttheir
hoseeveryday.”“Whatdoyoumean,when
Istoppedrunning?”Dr.Finchchuckled.“You
know,”hesaid.“You’reverymuchlikeyourfather.Itriedtopointthatouttoyoutoday;IregrettosayIusedtacticsthelateGeorgeWashingtonHillwouldenvy—you’reverymuchlikehim,exceptyou’reabigotandhe’snot.”“Ibegyourpardon?”
Dr.Finchbithisunderlipandletitgo.“Umhum.Abigot.Notabigone,justanordinaryturnip-sizedbigot.”JeanLouiseroseandwent
tothebookshelves.Shepulleddownadictionaryandleafedthroughit.“‘Bigot,’”sheread.“‘Noun.Oneobstinatelyorintolerablydevotedtohisownchurch,party,belief,oropinion.’Explainyourself,sir.”
“Iwasjusttryin’toansweryourrunningquestion.Letmeelaboratealittleonthatdefinition.Whatdoesabigotdowhenhemeetssomeonewhochallengeshisopinions?Hedoesn’tgive.Hestaysrigid.Doesn’teventrytolisten,justlashesout.Nowyou,youwereturnedinsideoutbythegranddaddyofallfatherthings,soyouran.Andhowyouran.
“You’venodoubtheardsomeprettyoffensivetalksinceyou’vebeenhome,butinsteadofgettingonyourchargerandblindlystrikingitdown,youturnedandran.Yousaid,ineffect,‘Idon’tlikethewaythesepeopledo,soIhavenotimeforthem.’You’dbettertaketimefor’em,honey,otherwiseyou’llnevergrow.You’llbethesameatsixtyasyouarenow—thenyou’llbeacaseand
notmyniece.Youhaveatendencynottogiveanybodyelbowroominyourmindfortheirideas,nomatterhowsillyyouthinktheyare.”Dr.Finchclaspedhishands
andrestedthemonthebackofhishead.“Goodgrief,baby,peopledon’tagreewiththeKlan,buttheycertainlydon’ttrytopreventthemfromputtin’onsheetsandmakingfoolsofthemselvesinpublic.”
“WhydidyouletMr.O’Hanlongetupthere?”“Becausehewantedto.”OhGod,whathaveIdone?“Buttheybeatpeople,
UncleJack—”“Now,that’sanotherthing,
andit’sjustonemorethingyou’vefailedtotakeintoconsiderationaboutyourfather.You’vebeenextravagantwithyourtalkofdespots,Hitlers,andring-tailedsonsofbitches—bythe
way,wheredidyougetthat?Remindsmeofacoldwinter’snight,possumhunting—”JeanLouisewinced.“He
toldyouallthat?”“Ohyes,butdon’tstart
worryingaboutwhatyoucalledhim.He’sgotalawyer’shide.He’sbeencalledworseinhisday.”“Notbyhisdaughter,
though.”“Well,asIwassaying—”
Forthefirsttimeinhermemory,herunclewasbringingherbacktothepoint.Forthesecondtimeinhermemory,herunclewasoutofcharacter:thefirsttimewaswhenhesatmutelyintheiroldlivingroom,listeningtothesoftmurmurs:theLordneversendsyoumorethanyoucanbear,andhesaid,“Myshouldersache.Isthereanywhiskeyinthishouse?”
Thisisadayofmiracles,shethought.“—theKlancanparade
aroundallitwants,butwhenitstartsbombingandbeatingpeople,don’tyouknowwho’dbethefirsttotryandstopit?”“Yessir.”“Thelawiswhathelives
by.He’lldohisbesttopreventsomeonefrombeatingupsomebodyelse,thenhe’llturnaroundandtry
tostopnolessthantheFederalGovernment—justlikeyou,child.Youturnedandtacklednolessthanyourowntingod—butrememberthis,he’llalwaysdoitbytheletterandbythespiritofthelaw.That’sthewayhelives.”“UncleJack—”“Nowdon’tstartfeeling
guilty,JeanLouise.You’vedonenothingwrongthisday.Anddon’t,forthesakeofJohnHenryNewman,start
worryingoverwhatabigotyouare.Itoldyouyouwereonlyaturnip-sizedone.”“ButUncleJack—”“Rememberthisalso:it’s
alwayseasytolookbackandseewhatwewere,yesterday,tenyearsago.Itishardtoseewhatweare.Ifyoucanmasterthattrick,you’llgetalong.”“UncleJack,IthoughtI’d
gonethroughallthatbeing-disillusioned-about-your-
parentsstuffwhenItookmybachelor’sdegree,butthere’ssomething—”Herunclebeganfidgeting
withhiscoatpockets.Hefoundwhathewasseeking,pulledonefromthepackage,andsaid,“Haveyouamatch?”JeanLouisewas
mesmerized.“Isaid,doyouhavea
match?”
“Haveyougonenuts?Youbeathelloutofmewhenyoucaughtmeatit…youoldbastard!”Hehad,unceremoniously,
oneChristmaswhenhefoundherunderthehousewithstolencigarettes.“Thisshouldprovetoyou
there’snojusticeinthisworld.Ismokesometimes,now.It’smyoneconcessiontooldage.Ifindmyselfbecominganxioussometimes
…itgivesmesomethingtodowithmyhands.”JeanLouisefoundamatch
fliponthetablebyherchair.Shestruckoneandheldittoheruncle’scigarette.Somethingtodowithhishands,shethought.Shewonderedhowmanytimeshishandsinrubbergloves,impersonalandomnipotent,hadsetsomechildonitsfeet.He’scrazy,allright.
Dr.Finchheldhiscigarettewithhisthumbandtwofingers.Helookedatitpensively.“You’recolorblind,JeanLouise,”hesaid.“Youalwayshavebeen,youalwayswillbe.Theonlydifferencesyouseebetweenonehumanandanotheraredifferencesinlooksandintelligenceandcharacterandthelike.You’veneverbeenproddedtolookatpeopleasarace,andnowthatraceisthe
burningissueoftheday,you’restillunabletothinkracially.Youseeonlypeople.”“But,UncleJack,Idon’t
especiallywanttorunoutandmarryaNegroorsomething.”“Youknow,Ipracticed
medicinefornearlytwentyyears,andI’mafraidIregardhumanbeingsmostlyonabasisofrelativesuffering,butI’llriskasmallpronouncement.There’s
nothingunderthesunthatsaysbecauseyougotoschoolwithoneNegro,orgotoschoolwiththemindroves,you’llwanttomarryone.That’soneofthetom-tomsthewhitesupremacistsbeat.HowmanymixedmarriageshaveyouseeninNewYork?”“Cometothinkofit,darn
few.Relatively,thatis.”“There’syouranswer.The
whitesupremacistsarereallyprettysmart.Iftheycan’t
scareuswiththeessentialinferiorityline,they’llwrapitinamiasmaofsex,becausethat’stheonethingtheyknowisfearedinourfundamentalistheartsdownhere.TheytrytostriketerrorinSouthernmothers,lesttheirchildrengrowuptofallinlovewithNegroes.Iftheydidn’tmakeanissueofit,theissuewouldrarelyarise.Iftheissuearose,itwouldbemetonprivateground.The
NAACPhasagreatdealtoanswerforinthatdepartment,too.Butthewhitesupremacistsfearreason,becausetheyknowcoldreasonbeatsthem.Prejudice,adirtyword,andfaith,acleanone,havesomethingincommon:theybothbeginwherereasonends.”“That’sodd,isn’tit?”“It’soneoftheodditiesof
thisworld.”Dr.Finchgotupfromthesofaand
extinguishedhiscigaretteinanashtrayonthetablebesideher.“Now,younglady,takemehome.It’snearlyfive.It’salmosttimeforyoutofetchyourfather.”JeanLouisesurfaced.“Get
Atticus?I’llneverbeabletolookhimintheeyeagain!”“Listen,girl.You’vegotto
shakeoffatwenty-year-oldhabitandshakeitofffast.Youwillbeginnow.Doyou
thinkAtticusisgoingtohurlathunderboltatyou?”“AfterwhatIsaidtohim?
Afterthe—”Dr.Finchjabbedthefloor
withhiswalkingstick.“JeanLouise,haveyouevermetyourfather?”No.Shehadnot.Shewas
terrified.“Ithinkyou’llhavea
surprisecoming,”saidheruncle.“UncleJack,Ican’t.”
“Don’tyoutellmeyoucan’t,girl!SaythatagainandI’lltakethissticktoyou,Imeanthat!”Theywalkedtothecar.“JeanLouise,haveyou
everthoughtaboutcominghome?”“Home?”“Ifyouwillrefrainfrom
echoingeitherthelastclauseorthelastwordofeverythingIsaytoyou,Iwillbemuchobliged.Home.Yes,home.”
JeanLouisegrinned.HewasbecomingUncleJackagain.“Nosir,”shesaid.“Well,attheriskof
overloadingyou,couldyoupossiblygiveanundertakingtothinkaboutit?Youmaynotknowit,butthere’sroomforyoudownhere.”“YoumeanAtticusneeds
me?”“Notaltogether.Iwas
thinkingofMaycomb.”
“That’dbegreat,withmeononesideandeverybodyelseontheother.Iflife’sanendlessflowofthekindoftalkIheardthismorning,Idon’tthinkI’dexactlyfitin.”“That’stheonethingabout
here,theSouth,you’vemissed.You’dbeamazedifyouknewhowmanypeopleareonyourside,ifside’stherightword.You’renospecialcase.Thewoodsarefullof
peoplelikeyou,butweneedsomemoreofyou.”Shestartedthecarand
backeditdownthedriveway.Shesaid,“WhatonearthcouldIdo?Ican’tfightthem.There’snofightinmeanymore….”“Idon’tmeanbyfighting;I
meanbygoingtoworkeverymorning,cominghomeatnight,seeingyourfriends.”“UncleJack,Ican’tlivein
aplacethatIdon’tagreewith
andthatdoesn’tagreewithme.”Dr.Finchsaid,“Hmph.
Melbournesaid—”“Ifyoutellmewhat
MelbournesaidI’llstopthiscarandputyouout,righthere!Iknowhowyouhatetowalk—afteryourstrolltochurchandbackandpushin’thatcataroundtheyard,you’vehadit.I’llputyourightout,anddon’tyouthinkIwon’t!”
Dr.Finchsighed.“You’remightybelligerenttowardafeebleoldman,butifyouwishtocontinueindarknessthatisyourprivilege….”“Feeble,hell!You’reabout
asfeebleasacrocodile!”JeanLouisetouchedhermouth.“Verywell,ifyouwon’t
letmetellyouwhatMelbournesaidI’llputitinmyownwords:thetimeyourfriendsneedyouiswhenthey’rewrong,JeanLouise.
Theydon’tneedyouwhenthey’reright—”“Whatdoyoumean?”“Imeanittakesacertain
kindofmaturitytoliveintheSouththesedays.Youdon’thaveityet,butyouhaveashadowofthebeginningsofit.Youhaven’tthehumblenessofmind—”“IthoughtfearoftheLord
wasthebeginningofwisdom.”
“It’sthesamething.Humility.”Theyhadcometohis
house.Shestoppedthecar.“UncleJack,”shesaid.
“WhatamIgoingtodoaboutHank?”“Whatyouwill
eventually,”hesaid.“Lethimdowneasy?”“Umhum.”“Why?”“He’snotyourkind.”
Lovewhomyouwill,marryyourownkind.“Look,I’mnotgoingtoarguewithyouovertherelativemeritsoftrash—”“Thathasnothingtodo
withit.I’mtiredofyou.Iwantmysupper.”Dr.Finchputhishandout
andpinchedherchin.“Goodafternoon,Miss,”hesaid.“Whydidyoutakeso
muchtroublewithmetoday?
Iknowhowyouhatetomoveoutofthathouse.”“Becauseyou’remychild.
YouandJemwerethechildrenIneverhad.Youtwogavemesomethinglongago,andI’mtryingtopaymydebts.Youtwohelpedmea—”“How,sir?”Dr.Finch’seyebrowswent
up.“Didn’tyouknow?Hasn’tAtticusgottenaroundtotellingyouthat?Why,I’m
amazedatZandranot…goodheavens,IthoughtallofMaycombknewthat.”“Knewwhat?”“Iwasinlovewithyour
mother.”“Mymother?”“Ohyes.WhenAtticus
marriedher,andI’dcomehomefromNashvilleforChristmasandthingslikethat,whyIfellheadoverheelsinlovewithher.Istillam—didn’tyouknowthat?”
JeanLouiseputherheadonthesteeringwheel.“UncleJack,I’msoashamedofmyselfIdon’tknowwhattodo.Meyellingaroundlike—oh,Icouldkillmyself!”“Ishouldn’tdothat.
There’sbeenenoughfocalsuicideforoneday.”“Allthattime,you—”“Whysure,honey.”“DidAtticusknowit?”“Certainly.”
“UncleJack,Ifeeloneinchhigh.”“Well,Ididn’tmeantodo
that.You’renotbyyourself,JeanLouise.You’renospecialcase.Nowgogetyourfather.”“Youcansayallthis,just
likethat?”“Umhum.Justlikethat.
AsIsaid,youandJemwereveryspecialtome—youweremydream-children,butasKiplingsaid,that’sanother
story…callonmetomorrow,andyou’llfindmeagraveman.”Hewastheonlypersonshe
everknewwhocouldparaphrasethreeauthorsintoonesentenceandhavethemallmakesense.“Thanks,UncleJack.”“Thankyou,Scout.”Dr.Finchgotoutofthecar
andshutthedoor.Hepokedhisheadinsidethewindow,
elevatedhiseyebrows,andsaidinadecorousvoice:
“Iwasonceanexceedinglyoddyounglady—
Sufferingmuchfromspleenandvapors.”
JeanLouisewashalfwaytotownwhensheremembered.Shesteppedonthebrake,leanedoutthewindow,andcalledtothesparefigureinthedistance:
“Butweonlycutrespectablecapers,don’twe,UncleJack?”
19
SHEWALKEDINTOthefoyeroftheoffice.ShesawHenrystillathisdesk.Shewenttohim.“Hank?”“Hello,”hesaid.“Seven-thirtytonight?”she
said.“Yes.”
Astheymadeadatefortheirleave-taking,atidewasrunning,returning,andsherantomeetit.Hewasapartofher,astimelessasFinch’sLanding,astheConinghamsandOldSarum.MaycombandMaycombCountyhadtaughthimthingsshehadneverknown,couldneverlearn,andMaycombhadrenderedheruselesstohimasanythingotherthanhisoldestfriend.
“Thatyou,JeanLouise?”Herfather’svoice
frightenedher.“Yessir.”Atticuswalkedfromhis
officetothefoyerandtookdownhishatandstickfromthehatrack.“Ready?”hesaid.Ready.Youcansayready
tome.Whatareyou,thatItriedtoobliterateandgrindintotheearth,andyousayready?Ican’tbeatyou,I
can’tjoinyou.Don’tyouknowthat?Shewenttohim.“Atticus,”
shesaid.“I’m—”“Youmaybesorry,but
I’mproudofyou.”Shelookedupandsawher
fatherbeamingather.“What?”“IsaidI’mproudofyou.”“Idon’tunderstandyou.I
don’tunderstandmenatallandIneverwill.”
“Well,Icertainlyhopedadaughterofmine’dholdhergroundforwhatshethinksisright—standuptomefirstofall.”JeanLouiserubbedher
nose.“Icalledyousomeprettygrimthings,”shesaid.Atticussaid,“Icantake
anythinganybodycallsmesolongasit’snottrue.Youdon’tevenknowhowtocuss,JeanLouise.Bytheway,
wheredidyoupickupthering-tailedvariety?”“RighthereinMaycomb.”“Deargoodness,thethings
youlearned.”Deargoodness,thethingsI
learned.Ididnotwantmyworlddisturbed,butIwantedtocrushthemanwho’stryingtopreserveitforme.Iwantedtostampoutallthepeoplelikehim.Iguessit’slikeanairplane:they’rethedragandwe’rethethrust,togetherwe
makethethingfly.Toomuchofusandwe’renose-heavy,toomuchofthemandwe’retail-heavy—it’samatterofbalance.Ican’tbeathim,andIcan’tjoinhim—“Atticus?”“Ma’am?”“IthinkIloveyouvery
much.”Shesawheroldenemy’s
shouldersrelax,andshewatchedhimpushhishattothebackofhishead.“Let’s
gohome,Scout.It’sbeenalongday.Openthedoorforme.”Shesteppedasidetolet
himpass.Shefollowedhimtothecarandwatchedhimgetlaboriouslyintothefrontseat.Asshewelcomedhimsilentlytothehumanrace,thestabofdiscoverymadehertremblealittle.Somebodywalkedovermygrave,shethought,probablyJemonsomeidioticerrand.
Shewentaroundthecar,andassheslippedunderthesteeringwheel,thistimeshewascarefulnottobumpherhead.
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