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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