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,andintheyardstheinevitable

verbenagrew,surroundedbywhitewashedtires.ShegrinnedwhenshesawherfirstTVantennaatopanunpaintedNegrohouse;astheymultiplied,herjoyrose.JeanLouiseFinchalways

madethisjourneybyair,butshedecidedtogobytrainfromNewYorktoMaycombJunctiononherfifthannualtriphome.Foronething,shehadthelifescaredoutofherthelasttimeshewasona

plane:thepilotelectedtoflythroughatornado.Foranotherthing,flyinghomemeantherfatherrisingatthreeinthemorning,drivingahundredmilestomeetherinMobile,anddoingafullday’sworkafterwards:hewasseventy-twonowandthiswasnolongerfair.Shewasgladshehad

decidedtogobytrain.Trainshadchangedsinceherchildhood,andthenoveltyof

theexperienceamusedher:afatgenieofaportermaterializedwhenshepressedabuttononawall;atherbiddingastainlesssteelwashbasinpoppedoutofanotherwall,andtherewasajohnonecouldpropone’sfeeton.Sheresolvednottobeintimidatedbyseveralmessagesstenciledaroundhercompartment—aroomette,theycalledit—butwhenshewenttobedthe

nightbefore,shesucceededinfoldingherselfupintothewallbecauseshehadignoredaninjunctiontopullthisleverdownoverbrackets,asituationremediedbytheportertoherembarrassment,asherhabitwastosleeponlyinpajamatops.Luckily,hehappenedtobe

patrollingthecorridorwhenthetrapsnappedshutwithherinit:“I’llgetyouout,Miss,”hecalledinanswertoher

poundingsfromwithin.“Noplease,”shesaid.“Justtellmehowtogetout.”“Icandoitwithmybackturned,”hesaid,anddid.Whensheawokethat

morningthetrainwasswitchingandchuggingintheAtlantayards,butinobediencetoanothersigninhercompartmentshestayedinbeduntilCollegeParkflashedby.Whenshedressed,sheputonher

Maycombclothes:grayslacks,ablacksleevelessblouse,whitesocks,andloafers.Althoughitwasfourhoursaway,shecouldhearheraunt’ssniffofdisapproval.Whenshewasstartingon

herfourthcupofcoffeetheCrescentLimitedhonkedlikeagiantgooseatitsnorthboundmateandrumbledacrosstheChattahoocheeintoAlabama.

TheChattahoocheeiswide,flat,andmuddy.Itwaslowtoday;ayellowsandbarhadreduceditsflowtoatrickle.Perhapsitsingsinthewintertime,shethought:Idonotrememberalineofthatpoem.Pipingdownthevalleyswild?No.Didhewritetoawaterfowl,orwasitawaterfall?Shesternlyrepresseda

tendencytoboisterousnesswhenshereflectedthat

SidneyLaniermusthavebeensomewhatlikeherlong-departedcousin,JoshuaSingletonSt.Clair,whoseprivateliterarypreservesstretchedfromtheBlackBelttoBayouLaBatre.JeanLouise’sauntoftenheldupCousinJoshuatoherasafamilyexamplenotlightlytobediscountenanced:hewasasplendidfigureofaman,hewasapoet,hewascutoffinhisprime,andJeanLouise

woulddowelltorememberthathewasacredittothefamily.Hispicturesdidthefamilywell—CousinJoshualookedlikearattyAlgernonSwinburne.JeanLouisesmiledto

herselfwhensherememberedherfathertellinghertherestofit.CousinJoshuawascutoff,allright,notbythehandofGodbutbyCaesar’shosts:WhenattheUniversity,

CousinJoshuastudiedtoo

hardandthoughttoomuch;infact,hereadhimselfstraightoutofthenineteenthcentury.HeaffectedanInvernesscapeandworejackbootshehadablacksmithmakeupfromhisowndesign.CousinJoshuawasfrustratedbytheauthoritieswhenhefireduponthepresidentoftheUniversity,whoinhisopinionwaslittlemorethanasewagedisposalexpert.Thiswasnodoubttrue,butanidle

excuseforassaultwithadeadlyweapon.AftermuchpassingaroundofmoneyCousinJoshuawasmovedacrossthetracksandplacedinstateaccommodationsfortheirresponsible,whereheremainedfortherestofhisdays.Theysaidhewasreasonableineveryrespectuntilsomeonementionedthatpresident’sname,thenhisfacewouldbecomedistorted,hewouldassumeawhooping

craneattitudeandholditforeighthoursormore,andnothingornobodycouldmakehimlowerhisleguntilheforgotaboutthatman.OncleardaysCousinJoshuareadGreek,andheleftathinvolumeofverseprintedprivatelybyafirminTuscaloosa.Thepoetrywassoaheadofitstimenoonehasdecipheredityet,butJeanLouise’sauntkeepsitdisplayedcasuallyand

prominentlyonatableinthelivingroom.JeanLouiselaughedaloud,

thenlookedaroundtoseeifanyonehadheardher.Herfatherhadawayofundermininghissister’slecturesontheinnatesuperiorityofanygivenFinch:healwaystoldhisdaughtertherestofit,quietlyandsolemnly,butJeanLouisesometimesthoughtshedetectedanunmistakably

profaneglintinAtticusFinch’seyes,orwasitmerelythelighthittinghisglasses?Sheneverknew.Thecountrysideandthe

trainhadsubsidedtoagentleroll,andshecouldseenothingbutpasturelandandblackcowsfromwindowtohorizon.Shewonderedwhyshehadneverthoughthercountrybeautiful.ThestationatMontgomery

nestledinanelbowofthe

Alabama,andwhenshegotoffthetraintostretchherlegs,thereturningfamiliarwithitsdrabness,lights,andcuriousodorsrosetomeether.Thereissomethingmissing,shethought.Hotboxes,that’sit.Amangoesalongunderthetrainwithacrowbar.Thereisaclankandthens-sss-sss,whitesmokecomesupandyouthinkyou’reinsidea

chafingdish.Thesethingsrunonoilnow.Fornoreasonanancient

feargnawedher.Shehadnotbeeninthisstationfortwentyyears,butwhenshewasachildandwenttothecapitalwithAtticus,shewasterrifiedlesttheswayingtrainplungedowntheriverbankanddrownthemall.Butwhensheboardedagainforhome,sheforgot.

Thetrainclacketedthroughpineforestsandhonkedderisivelyatagailypaintedbell-funneledmuseumpiecesidetrackedinaclearing.Itborethesignofalumberconcern,andtheCrescentLimitedcouldhaveswalloweditwholewithroomtospare.Greenville,Evergreen,MaycombJunction.Shehadtoldtheconductor

nottoforgettoletheroff,

andbecausetheconductorwasanelderlyman,sheanticipatedhisjoke:hewouldrushatMaycombJunctionlikeabatoutofhellandstopthetrainaquarterofamilepastthelittlestation,thenwhenhebadehergoodbyehewouldsayhewassorry,healmostforgot.Trainschanged;conductorsneverdid.Beingfunnyatflagstopswithyoungladieswasamarkoftheprofession,andAtticus,

whocouldpredicttheactionsofeveryconductorfromNewOrleanstoCincinnati,wouldbewaitingaccordinglynotsixstepsawayfromherpointofdebarkation.HomewasMaycomb

County,agerrymandersomeseventymileslongandspreadingthirtymilesatitswidestpoint,awildernessdottedwithtinysettlementsthelargestofwhichwasMaycomb,thecountyseat.

Untilcomparativelyrecentlyinitshistory,MaycombCountywassocutofffromtherestofthenationthatsomeofitscitizens,unawareoftheSouth’spoliticalpredilectionsoverthepastninetyyears,stillvotedRepublican.Notrainswentthere—MaycombJunction,acourtesytitle,waslocatedinAbbottCounty,twentymilesaway.Busservicewaserraticandseemedtogonowhere,

buttheFederalGovernmenthadforcedahighwayortwothroughtheswamps,thusgivingthecitizensanopportunityforfreeegress.Butfewpeopletookadvantageoftheroads,andwhyshouldthey?Ifyoudidnotwantmuch,therewasplenty.Thecountyandthetown

werenamedforaColonelMasonMaycomb,amanwhosemisplacedself-

confidenceandoverweeningwillfulnessbroughtconfusionandconfoundmenttoallwhorodewithhimintheCreekIndianWars.Theterritoryinwhichheoperatedwasvaguelyhillyinthenorthandflatinthesouth,onthefringesofthecoastalplain.ColonelMaycomb,convincedthatIndianshatedtofightonflatland,scouredthenorthernreachesoftheterritorylookingforthem.Whenhis

generaldiscoveredthatMaycombwasmeanderinginthehillswhiletheCreekswerelurkingineverypinethicketinthesouth,hedispatchedafriendlyIndianrunnertoMaycombwiththemessage,Movesouth,damnyou.MaycombwasconvincedthiswasaCreekplottotraphim(wastherenotablue-eyed,red-headeddevilleadingthem?),hemadethefriendlyIndianrunnerhis

prisoner,andhemovedfarthernorthuntilhisforcesbecamehopelesslylostintheforestprimeval,wheretheysatoutthewarsinconsiderablebewilderment.Afterenoughyearshad

passedtoconvinceColonelMaycombthatthemessagemighthavebeengenuineafterall,hebeganapurposefulmarchtothesouth,andonthewayhistroopsencounteredsettlers

movinginland,whotoldthemtheIndianWarswereaboutover.ThetroopsandthesettlerswerefriendlyenoughtobecomeJeanLouiseFinch’sancestors,andColonelMaycombpressedontowhatisnowMobiletomakesurehisexploitsweregivenduecredit.Recordedhistory’sversiondoesnotcoincidewiththetruth,butthesearethefacts,becausetheywerepasseddownby

wordofmouththroughtheyears,andeveryMaycombianknowsthem.“…getyourbags,Miss,”

theportersaid.JeanLouisefollowedhimfromtheloungecartohercompartment.Shetooktwodollarsfromherbillfold:oneforroutine,oneforreleasingherlastnight.Thetrain,ofcourse,rushedlikeabatoutofhellpastthestationandcametoastop440yardsbeyondit.The

conductorappeared,grinning,andsaidhewassorry,healmostforgot.JeanLouisegrinnedbackandwaitedimpatientlyfortheportertoputtheyellowstepinplace.Hehandedherdownandshegavehimthetwobills.Herfatherwasnotwaiting

forher.Shelookedupthetrack

towardthestationandsawatallmanstandingonthetiny

platform.Hejumpeddownandrantomeether.Hegrabbedherinabear

hug,putherfromhim,kissedherhardonthemouth,thenkissedhergently.“Nothere,Hank,”shemurmured,muchpleased.“Hush,girl,”hesaid,

holdingherfaceinplace.“I’llkissyouonthecourthousestepsifIwantto.”Thepossessoroftheright

tokissheronthecourthouse

stepswasHenryClinton,herlifelongfriend,herbrother’scomrade,andifhekeptonkissingherlikethat,herhusband.Lovewhomyouwillbutmarryyourownkindwasadictumamountingtoinstinctwithinher.HenryClintonwasJeanLouise’sownkind,andnowshedidnotconsiderthedictumparticularlyharsh.Theywalkedarm-in-arm

downthetracktocollecther

suitcase.“How’sAtticus?”shesaid.“Hishandsandshoulders

aregivinghimfitstoday.”“Hecan’tdrivewhen

they’relikethat,canhe?”Henryclosedthefingersof

hisrighthandhalfwayandsaid,“Hecan’tclosethemanymorethanthis.MissAlexandrahastotiehisshoesandbuttonhisshirtswhenthey’relikethat.Hecan’tevenholdarazor.”

JeanLouiseshookherhead.Shewastoooldtorailagainsttheinequityofit,buttooyoungtoacceptherfather’scripplingdiseasewithoutputtingupsomekindoffight.“Isn’tthereanythingtheycando?”“Youknowthereisn’t,”

Henrysaid.“Hetakesseventygrainsofaspirinadayandthat’sall.”Henrypickedupherheavy

suitcase,andtheywalked

backtowardthecar.Shewonderedhowshewouldbehavewhenhertimecametohurtdayinanddayout.HardlylikeAtticus:ifyouaskedhimhowhewasfeelinghewouldtellyou,buthenevercomplained;hisdispositionremainedthesame,soinordertofindouthowhewasfeeling,youhadtoaskhim.TheonlywayHenryfound

outaboutitwasbyaccident.

Onedaywhentheywereintherecordsvaultatthecourthouserunningalandtitle,Atticushauledoutaheavymortgagebook,turnedstarkwhite,anddroppedit.“What’sthematter?”Henryhadsaid.“Rheumatoidarthritis.Canyoupickitupforme?”saidAtticus.Henryaskedhimhowlonghe’dhadit;Atticussaidsixmonths.DidJeanLouiseknowit?No.Thenhe’dbettertellher.“If

youtellhershe’llbedownheretryingtonurseme.Theonlyremedyforthisisnottoletitbeatyou.”Thesubjectwasclosed.“Wanttodrive?”said

Henry.“Don’tbesilly,”shesaid.

Althoughshewasarespectabledriver,shehatedtooperateanythingmechanicalmorecomplicatedthanasafetypin:foldinglawnchairswereasourceof

profoundirritationtoher;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.Come

here.”

FaithinGeneralMotors.Sheputherheadonhisshoulder.“Hank,”shesaidpresently.

“Whatreallyhappened?”Thiswasanoldjoke

betweenthem.Apinkscarstartedunderhisrighteye,hitthecornerofhisnose,andrandiagonallyacrosshisupperlip.BehindhislipweresixfalsefrontteethnotevenJeanLouisecouldinducehimtotakeoutandshowher.He

camehomefromthewarwiththem.AGerman,moretoexpresshisdispleasureattheendofthewarthananythingelse,hadbashedhiminthefacewithariflebutt.JeanLouisehadchosentothinkthisalikelystory:whatwithgunsthatshotoverthehorizon,B-17s,V-bombs,andthelike,HenryhadprobablynotbeenwithinspittingdistanceoftheGermans.

“Okay,honey,”hesaid.“WeweredowninacellarinBerlin.Everybodyhadtoomuchtodrinkandafightstarted—youliketohearthebelievable,don’tyou?Nowwillyoumarryme?”“Notyet.”“Why?”“IwanttobelikeDr.

SchweitzerandplayuntilI’mthirty.”“Heplayedallright,”said

Henrygrimly.

JeanLouisemovedunderhisarm.“YouknowwhatImean,”shesaid.“Yes.”Therewasnofineryoung

man,saidthepeopleofMaycomb,thanHenryClinton.JeanLouiseagreed.Henrywasfromthesouthernendofthecounty.HisfatherhadlefthismothersoonafterHenrywasborn,andsheworkednightanddayinherlittlecrossroadsstoretosend

HenrythroughtheMaycombpublicschools.Henry,fromthetimehewastwelve,boardedacrossthestreetfromtheFinchhouse,andthisinitselfputhimonahigherplane:hewashisownmaster,freefromtheauthorityofcooks,yardmen,andparents.Hewasalsofouryearshersenior,whichmadeadifferencethen.Heteasedher;sheadoredhim.Whenhewasfourteenhismotherdied,

leavinghimnexttonothing.AtticusFinchlookedafterwhatlittlemoneytherewasfromthesaleofthestore—herfuneralexpensestookmostofit—hesecretlysupplementeditwithmoneyofhisown,andgotHenryajobclerkingintheJitneyJungleafterschool.HenrygraduatedandwentintotheArmy,andafterthewarhewenttotheUniversityandstudiedlaw.

Justaboutthattime,JeanLouise’sbrotherdroppeddeadinhistracksoneday,andafterthenightmareofthatwasover,Atticus,whohadalwaysthoughtofleavinghispracticetohisson,lookedaroundforanotheryoungman.ItwasnaturalforhimtoengageHenry,andinduecourseHenrybecameAtticus’slegman,hiseyes,andhishands.HenryhadalwaysrespectedAtticus

Finch;soonitmeldedtoaffectionandHenryregardedhimasafather.HedidnotregardJean

Louiseasasister.IntheyearswhenhewasawayatthewarandtheUniversity,shehadturnedfromanoveralled,fractious,gun-slingingcreatureintoareasonablefacsimileofahumanbeing.Hebegandatingheronherannualtwo-weekvisitshome,andalthoughshestillmoved

likeathirteen-year-oldboyandabjuredmostfeminineadornment,hefoundsomethingsointenselyfeminineaboutherthathefellinlove.Shewaseasytolookatandeasytobewithmostofthetime,butshewasinnosenseofthewordaneasyperson.Shewasafflictedwitharestlessnessofspirithecouldnotguessat,butheknewshewastheonefor

him.Hewouldprotecther;hewouldmarryher.“TiredofNewYork?”he

said.“No.”“Givemeafreehandfor

thesetwoweeksandI’llmakeyoutiredofit.”“Isthatanimproper

suggestion?”“Yes.”“Gotohell,then.”Henrystoppedthecar.He

turnedofftheignitionswitch,

slewedaround,andlookedather.Sheknewwhenhebecameseriousaboutsomething:hiscrewcutbristledlikeanangrybrush,hisfacecolored,itsscarreddened.“Honey,doyouwantmeto

putitlikeagentleman?MissJeanLouise,Ihavenowreachedaneconomicstatusthatcanprovideforthesupportoftwo.I,likeIsraelofOld,havelaboredseven

yearsinthevineyardsoftheUniversityandthepasturesofyourdaddy’sofficeforyou—”“I’lltellAtticustomakeit

sevenmore.”“Hateful.”“Besides,”shesaid,“itwas

Jacobanyway.No,theywerethesame.Theyalwayschangedtheirnameseverythirdverse.How’sAunty?”“Youknowgoodandwell

she’sbeenfineforthirty

years.Don’tchangethesubject.”JeanLouise’seyebrows

flickered.“Henry,”shesaidprimly,“I’llhaveanaffairwithyoubutIwon’tmarryyou.”Itwasexactlyright.“Don’tbesuchadamn

child,JeanLouise!”Henrysputtered,andforgettingthelatestdispensationsfromGeneralMotors,grabbedforagearshiftandstompedata

clutch.Thesedeniedhim,hewrenchedtheignitionkeyviolently,pressedsomebuttons,andthebigcarglidedslowlyandsmoothlydownthehighway.“Slowpickup,isn’tit?”she

said.“Nogoodforcitydriving.”Henryglaredather.“What

doyoumeanbythat?”Inanotherminutethis

wouldbecomeaquarrel.Hewasserious.She’dbetter

makehimfurious,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,themanwouldcomealongwhomsheshouldhavemarriedinthefirstplace.Therewouldbesearchingsofhearts,fevers

andfrets,longlooksateachotheronthepostofficesteps,andmiseryforeverybody.Theholleringandthehigh-mindednessover,allthatwouldbeleftwouldbeanothershabbylittleaffairàlatheBirminghamcountryclubset,andaself-constructedprivateGehennawiththelatestWestinghouseappliances.Hankdidn’tdeservethat.

No.Forthepresentshewouldpursuethestonypathofspinsterhood.Shesetaboutrestoringpeacewithhonor:“Honey,I’msorry,truly

sorry,”shesaid,andshewas.“That’sokay,”saidHenry,

andslappedherknee.“It’sjustthatIcouldkillyousometimes.”“IknowI’mhateful.”Henrylookedather.

“You’reanoddone,sweet.Youcan’tdissemble.”

Shelookedathim.“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”“Well,asageneralrule,

mostwomen,beforethey’vegot’em,presenttotheirmensmiling,agreeingfaces.Theyhidetheirthoughts.Younow,whenyou’refeelinghateful,honey,youarehateful.”“Isn’titfairerforamanto

beabletoseewhathe’slettinghimselfinfor?”“Yes,butdon’tyousee

you’llnevercatchamanthat

way?”Shebithertongueonthe

obvious,andsaid,“HowdoIgoaboutbeinganenchantress?”Henrywarmedtohis

subject.Atthirty,hewasanadviser.Maybebecausehewasalawyer.“First,”hesaiddispassionately,“holdyourtongue.Don’targuewithaman,especiallywhenyouknowyoucanbeathim.Smilealot.Makehimfeel

big.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,thelatterwasusedtotelltimewhenhecouldnot

movehisfingersenoughtodiginhiswatchpocket.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.Theydrewupherbosomtogiddyheights,pinchedinher

waist,flaredoutherrear,andmanagedtosuggestthatAlexandra’shadoncebeenanhourglassfigure.Ofallherrelatives,her

father’ssistercameclosesttosettingJeanLouise’steethpermanentlyonedge.Alexandrahadneverbeenactivelyunkindtoher—shehadneverbeenunkindtoanylivingcreature,excepttotherabbitsthatateherazaleas,whichshepoisoned—butshe

hadmadeJeanLouise’slifehellonwheelsinherday,inherowntime,andinherownway.NowthatJeanLouisewasgrown,theyhadneverbeenabletosustainfifteenminutes’conversationwithoneanotherwithoutadvancingirreconcilablepointsofview,invigoratinginfriendships,butinclosebloodrelationsproducingonlyuneasycordiality.Thereweresomanythingsabout

herauntJeanLouisesecretlydelightedinwhenhalfacontinentseparatedthem,whichoncontactwereabrasive,andwerecanceledoutwhenJeanLouiseundertooktoexamineheraunt’smotives.Alexandrawasoneofthosepeoplewhohadgonethroughlifeatnocosttothemselves;hadshebeenobligedtopayanyemotionalbillsduringherearthlylife,JeanLouisecould

imagineherstoppingatthecheck-indeskinheavenanddemandingarefund.Alexandrahadbeen

marriedforthirty-threeyears;ifithadmadeanyimpressiononheronewayoranother,shenevershowedit.Shehadspawnedoneson,Francis,whoinJeanLouise’sopinionlookedandbehavedlikeahorse,andwholongagoleftMaycombforthegloriesofsellinginsurancein

Birmingham.Itwasjustaswell.Alexandrahadbeenand

wasstilltechnicallymarriedtoalargeplacidmannamedJamesHancock,whoranacottonwarehousewithgreatexactitudeforsixdaysaweekandfishedontheseventh.OneSundayfifteenyearsagohesentwordtohiswifebywayofaNegroboyfromhisfishingcampontheTensasRiverthathewasstaying

downthereandnotcomingback.AfterAlexandramadesurenootherfemalewasinvolved,shecouldnothavecaredless.Francischosetomakeithiscrosstobearinlife;heneverunderstoodwhyhisUncleAtticusremainedonexcellentbutremotetermswithhisfather—FrancisthoughtAtticusshouldDoSomething—orwhyhismotherwasnotprostratefromhisfather’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,withaviewtopromotingthe

domestictranquillityofthenewcounty,sentoutateamofsurveyorstolocateitsexactcenterandthereestablishitsseatofgovernment:hadnotSinkfieldmadeaboldstroketopreservehisholdings,MaycombwouldhavesatinthemiddleofWinstonSwamp,aplacetotallydevoidofinterest.Instead,Maycombgrew

andsprawledoutfromits

hub,Sinkfield’sTavern,becauseSinkfieldmadethesurveyorsdrunkoneevening,inducedthemtobringforwardtheirmapsandcharts,lopoffalittlehere,addabitthere,andadjustthecenterofthecountytomeethisrequirements.Hesentthempackingthenextdayarmedwiththeirchartsandfivequartsofshinnyintheirsaddlebags—twoapieceandonefortheGovernor.

JeanLouisecouldnevermakeuphermindwhetherSinkfield’smaneuverwaswise;heplacedtheyoungtowntwentymilesawayfromtheonlykindofpublictransportationinthosedays—river-boat—andittookamanfromthesouthendofthecountytwodaystojourneytoMaycombforstore-boughtgoods.Consequently,thetownremainedthesamesizeforover150years.Its

primaryreasonforexistencewasgovernment.WhatsaveditfrombecominganothergrubbylittleAlabamacommunitywasthatMaycomb’sproportionofprofessionalpeopleranhigh:onewenttoMaycombtohavehisteethpulled,hiswagonfixed,hisheartlistenedto,hismoneydeposited,hismulesvetted,hissoulsaved,hismortgageextended.

Newpeoplerarelywenttheretolive.Thesamefamiliesmarriedthesamefamiliesuntilrelationshipswerehopelesslyentangledandthemembersofthecommunitylookedmonotonouslyalike.JeanLouise,untiltheSecondWorldWar,wasrelatedbybloodormarriagetonearlyeverybodyinthetown,butthiswasmildcomparedtowhatwentoninthenorthern

halfofMaycombCounty:therewasacommunitycalledOldSarumpopulatedbytwofamilies,separateandapartinthebeginning,butunfortunatelybearingthesamename.TheCunninghamsandtheConinghamsmarriedeachotheruntilthespellingofthenameswasacademic—academicunlessaCunninghamwishedtojapewithaConinghamoverland

titlesandtooktothelaw.TheonlytimeJeanLouiseeversawJudgeTayloratadeadstandstillinopencourtwasduringadisputeofthiskind.JeemsCunninghamtestifiedthathismotherspelleditCunninghamoccasionallyondeedsandthingsbutshewasreallyaConingham,shewasanuncertainspeller,andshewasgiventolookingfarawaysometimeswhenshesatonthefrontporch.Afternine

hoursoflisteningtothevagariesofOldSarum’sinhabitants,JudgeTaylorthrewthecaseoutofcourtongroundsoffrivolouspleadinganddeclaredhehopedtoGodthelitigantsweresatisfiedbyeachhavinghadhispublicsay.Theywere.Thatwasalltheyhadwantedinthefirstplace.Maycombdidnothavea

pavedstreetuntil1935,courtesyofF.D.Roosevelt,

andeventhenitwasnotexactlyastreetthatwaspaved.ForsomereasonthePresidentdecidedthataclearingfromthefrontdooroftheMaycombGrammarSchooltotheconnectingtworutsadjoiningtheschoolpropertywasinneedofimprovement,itwasimprovedaccordingly,resultinginskinnedkneesandcrackedcraniaforthechildrenandaproclamation

fromtheprincipalthatnobodywastoplayPop-the-Whiponthepavement.Thustheseedsofstates’rightsweresownintheheartsofJeanLouise’sgeneration.TheSecondWorldWardid

somethingtoMaycomb:itsboyswhocamebackreturnedwithbizarreideasaboutmakingmoneyandanurgencytomakeupforlosttime.Theypaintedtheirparents’housesatrocious

colors;theywhitewashedMaycomb’sstoresandputupneonsigns;theybuiltredbrickhousesoftheirowninwhatwereformerlycornpatchesandpinethickets;theyruinedtheoldtown’slooks.Itsstreetswerenotonlypaved,theywerenamed(AdelineAvenue,forMissAdelineClay),buttheolderresidentsrefrainedfromusingstreetnames—theroadthatrunsbytheTompkinsPlace

wassufficienttogetone’sbearings.AfterthewaryoungmenfromtenantfarmsalloverthecountyflockedtoMaycombanderectedmatchboxwoodenhousesandstartedfamilies.Nobodyquiteknewhowtheymadealiving,buttheydid,andtheywouldhavecreatedanewsocialstratuminMaycombhadtherestofthetownacknowledgedtheirexistence.

AlthoughMaycomb’sappearancehadchanged,thesameheartsbeatinnewhouses,overMixmasters,infrontoftelevisionsets.Onecouldwhitewashallhepleased,andputupcomicneonsigns,buttheagedtimbersstoodstrongundertheiradditionalburden.“Youdon’tlikeit,do

you?”askedHenry.“Isawyourfacewhenyouwalkedinthedoor.”

“Conservativeresistancetochange,that’sall,”saidJeanLouisebehindamouthfuloffriedshrimp.TheywereintheMaycombHoteldiningroomsittingonchromiumchairsatatablefortwo.Theair-conditioningunitmadeitswillknownbyaconstantlowrumble.“TheonlythingIlikeaboutitisthesmell’sgone.”Alongtableladenwith

manydishes,thesmellof

mustyoldroomandhotgreaseinthekitchen.“Hank,what’sHot-Grease-in-the-Kitchen?”“Mm?”“Itwasagameor

something.”“YoumeanHotPeas,

honey.That’sjumpingrope,whentheyturntheropefastandtrytotripyou.”“No,ithadsomethingto

dowithTag.”

Shecouldnotremember.Whenshewasdying,sheprobablywouldremember,butnowonlythefaintflashofadenimsleevecaughtinhermind,aquickcry,“Hotgreaseinthekit-chen!”Shewonderedwhoownedthesleeve,whathadbecomeofhim.Hemightberaisingafamilyoutinoneofthosenewlittlehouses.Shehadanoddfeelingthattimehadpassedherby.

“Hank,let’sgototheriver,”shesaid.“Didn’tthinkweweren’t,

didyou?”Henrywassmilingather.Heneverknewwhy,butJeanLouisewasmostlikeheroldselfwhenshewenttoFinch’sLanding:sheseemedtobreathesomethingoutoftheair—“You’reaJekyll-and-Hydecharacter,”hesaid.“You’vebeenwatchingtoo

muchtelevision.”

“SometimesIthinkI’vegotyoulikethis”—Henrymadeafist—“andjustwhenIthinkI’vegotyou,holdingyoutight,yougoawayfromme.”JeanLouiseraisedher

eyebrows.“Mr.Clinton,ifyou’llpermitanobservationfromawomanoftheworld,yourhandisshowing.”“How?”Shegrinned.“Don’tyou

knowhowtocatchawoman,

honey?”Sherubbedanimaginarycrewcut,frowned,andsaid,“Womenlikefortheirmentobemasterfulandatthesametimeremote,ifyoucanpullthattrick.Makethemfeelhelpless,especiallywhenyouknowtheycanpickupaloadoflight’udknotswithnotrouble.Neverdoubtyourselfinfrontofthem,andbynomeanstellthemyoudon’tunderstandthem.”

“Touché,baby,”saidHenry.“ButI’dquibblewithyourlastsuggestion.Ithoughtwomenlikedtobethoughtstrangeandmysterious.”“No,theyjustliketolook

strangeandmysterious.Whenyougetpastalltheboafeathers,everywomanborninthisworldwantsastrongmanwhoknowsherlikeabook,who’snotonlyher

loverbuthewhokeepethIsrael.Stupid,isn’tit?”“Shewantsafatherinstead

ofahusband,then.”“That’swhatitamounts

to,”shesaid.“Thebooksarerightonthatscore.”Henrysaid,“You’rebeing

verywisethisevening.Where’dyoupickupallthis?”“LivinginsininNew

York,”shesaid.Shelightedacigaretteandinhaleddeeply.

“Ilearneditfromwatchingsleek,MadisonAvenueyyoungmarrieds—youknowthatlanguage,baby?It’slotsoffun,butyouneedanearforit—theygothroughakindoftribalfandango,buttheapplication’suniversal.Itbeginsbythewivesbeingboredtodeathbecausetheirmenaresotiredfrommakingmoneytheydon’tpayanyattentionto’em.Butwhentheirwivesstarthollering,

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.“ShotfromMaycombtoMobileinthreeminutes.”

“I’dbecontentwithanoldsquareBuick.Rememberthem?Yousatatleastfivefeetofftheground.”Henrysaid,“Remember

whenJemfelloutofthecar?”Shelaughed.“Thatwasmy

holdoverhimforweeks—anybodywhocouldn’tgettoBarker’sEddywithoutfallingoutofthecarwasabigwethen.”Inthedimpast,Atticushad

ownedanoldcanvas-top

touringcar,andoncewhenhewastakingJem,Henry,andJeanLouiseswimming,thecarrolledoveraparticularlybadhumpintheroadanddepositedJemwithout.AtticusdroveserenelyonuntiltheyreachedBarker’sEddy,becauseJeanLouisehadnointentionofadvisingherfatherthatJemwasnolongerpresent,andshepreventedHenryfromdoingsobycatchinghisfingerand

bendingitback.Whentheyarrivedatthecreekbank,Atticusturnedaroundwithahearty“Everybodyout!”andthesmilefrozeonhisface:“Where’sJem?”JeanLouisesaidheoughttobecomingalonganyminutenow.WhenJemappearedpuffing,sweaty,andfilthyfromhisenforcedsprint,heranstraightpastthemanddivedintothecreekwithhisclotheson.Secondslateramurderous

faceappearedfrombeneaththesurface,saying,“Comeoninhere,Scout!Idareyou,Hank!”Theytookhisdare,andonceJeanLouisethoughtJemwouldchokethelifeoutofher,buthelethergoeventually:Atticuswasthere.“They’veputaplaning

millontheeddy,”saidHenry.“Can’tswiminitnow.”HenrydroveuptotheE-

LiteEatShopandhonkedthehorn.“Giveustwoset-ups

please,Bill,”hesaidtotheyouthwhoappearedathissummons.InMaycomb,onedrankor

didnotdrink.Whenonedrank,onewentbehindthegarage,turnedupapint,anddrankitdown;whenonedidnotdrink,oneaskedforset-upsattheE-LiteEatShopundercoverofdarkness:amanhavingacoupleofdrinksbeforeorafterdinnerinhishomeorwithhis

neighborwasunheardof.ThatwasSocialDrinking.ThosewhoDrankSociallywerenotquiteoutofthetopdrawer,andbecausenooneinMaycombconsideredhimselfoutofanydrawerbutthetop,therewasnoSocialDrinking.“Makeminelight,honey,”

shesaid.“Justcolorthewater.”“Haven’tyoulearnedto

holdityet?”Henrysaid.He

reachedundertheseatandcameupwithabrownbottleofSeagram’sSeven.“Notthehardkind,”she

said.Henrycoloredthewaterin

herpapercup.Hepouredhimselfaman-sizeddrink,stirreditwithhisfinger,andbottlebetweenhisknees,hereplaceditscap.Heshoveditundertheseatandstartedthecar.“We’reoff,”hesaid.

Thecartireshummedontheasphaltandmadehersleepy.TheonethingshelikedmostaboutHenryClintonwasthatheletherbesilentwhenshewantedtobe.Shedidnothavetoentertainhim.Henryneverattemptedto

pesterherwhenshewasthus.HisattitudewasAsquithian,andheknewsheappreciatedhimforhispatience.Shedidnotknowhewaslearningthat

virtuefromherfather.“Relax,son,”Atticushadtoldhiminoneofhisrarecommentsonher.“Don’tpushher.Lethergoatherownspeed.Pushherandeverymuleinthecounty’dbeeasiertolivewith.”HenryClinton’sclassin

LawSchoolattheUniversitywascomposedofbright,humorlessyoungveterans.Thecompetitionwasterrific,butHenrywasaccustomedto

hardwork.Althoughhewasabletokeepupandmanageverywell,helearnedlittleofpracticalvalue.AtticusFinchwasrightwhenhesaidtheonlygoodtheUniversitydidHenrywaslethimmakefriendswithAlabama’sfuturepoliticians,demagogues,andstatesmen.Onebegantogetaninklingofwhatlawwasaboutonlywhenthetimecametopracticeit.Alabamaandcommonlawpleading,

forinstance,wasasubjectsoetherealinnaturethatHenrypasseditonlybymemorizingthebook.Thebitterlittlemanwhotaughtthecoursewastheloneprofessorintheschoolwhohadgutsenoughtotrytoteachit,andevenheevincedtherigidityofimperfectunderstanding.“Mr.Clinton,”hehadsaid,whenHenryventuredtoinquireaboutaparticularlyambiguousexamination,“youmaywrite

untildoomsdayforallIcare,butifyouranswersdonotcoincidewithmyanswerstheyarewrong.Wrong,sir.”NowonderAtticusconfoundedHenryintheearlydaysoftheirassociationbysaying,“Pleading’slittlemorethanputtingonpaperwhatyouwanttosay.”PatientlyandunobtrusivelyAtticushadtaughthimeverythingHenryknewabouthiscraft,butHenry

sometimeswonderedifhewouldbeasoldasAtticusbeforehereducedlawtohispossession.Tom,Tom,thechimneysweep’sson.Wasthattheoldbailmentcase?No,thefirstofthetreasuretrovecases:possessionholdsgoodagainstallcomersexceptthetrueowner.Theboyfoundabrooch.HelookeddownatJeanLouise.Shewasdozing.

Hewashertrueowner,thatwascleartohim.Fromthetimeshethrewrocksathim;whenshealmostblewherheadoffplayingwithgunpowder;whenshewouldspringuponhimfrombehind,catchhiminahardhalfnelson,andmakehimsayCalfRope;whenshewasillanddeliriousonesummeryellingforhimandJemandDill—HenrywonderedwhereDillwas.JeanLouisewould

know,shekeptintouch.“Honey,where’sDill?”JeanLouiseopenedher

eyes.“Italy,lasttimeIheard.”Shestirred.CharlesBaker

Harris.Dill,thefriendofherheart.Sheyawnedandwatchedthefrontofthecarconsumethewhitelineinthehighway.“Wherearewe?”“Tenmoremilestogo

yet.”

Shesaid,“Youcanfeeltheriveralready.”“Youmustbehalf

alligator,”saidHenry.“Ican’t.”“IsTwo-ToedTomstill

around?”Two-ToedTomlived

wherevertherewasariver.Hewasagenius:hemadetunnelsbeneathMaycombandatepeople’schickensatnight;hewasoncetrackedfromDemopolistoTensas.

HewasasoldasMaycombCounty.“Wemightseehim

tonight.”“Whatmadeyouthinkof

Dill?”sheasked.“Idon’tknow.Justthought

ofhim.”“Youneverlikedhim,did

you?”Henrysmiled.“Iwas

jealousofhim.HehadyouandJemtohimselfallsummerlong,whileIhadto

gohomethedayschoolwasout.Therewasnobodyathometofoolaroundwith.”Shewassilent.Time

stopped,shifted,andwentlazilyinreverse.Somehow,then,itwasalwayssummer.Hankwasdownathismother’sandunavailable,andJemhadtomakedowithhisyoungersisterforcompany.Thedayswerelong,Jemwaseleven,andthepatternwasset:

Theywereonthesleepingporch,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,andwaswiseinthewaysoftheworld.HespenteverysummerinMaycombwithhis

great-aunt,wholivednextdoortotheFinches.Hewasashort,square-built,cotton-headedindividualwiththefaceofanangelandthecunningofastoat.Hewasayearolderthanshe,butshewasaheadtaller.“Hey,”saidDill.“Let’s

playTarzantoday.I’mgonnabeTarzan.”“Youcan’tbeTarzan,”

saidJem.“I’mJane,”shesaid.

“Well,I’mnotgoingtobetheapeagain,”saidDill.“Ialwayshavetobetheape.”“YouwanttobeJane,

then?”askedJem.Hestretched,pulledonhispants,andsaid,“We’llplayTomSwift.I’mTom.”“I’mNed,”saidDilland

shetogether.“Noyou’renot,”shesaidtoDill.Dill’sfacereddened.

“Scout,youalwayshaveto

besecond-best.Ineveramthesecond-best.”“Youwanttodosomething

aboutit?”sheaskedpolitely,clenchingherfists.Jemsaid,“YoucanbeMr.

Damon,Dill.He’salwaysfunnyandhesaveseverybodyintheend.Youknow,healwaysblesseseverything.”“Blessmyinsurance

policy,”saidDill,hookinghis

thumbsthroughinvisiblesuspenders.“Ohallright.”“What’sitgonnabe,”said

Jem,“HisOceanAirportorHisFlyingMachine?”“I’mtiredofthose,”she

said.“Makeusupone.”“Okay.Scout,you’reNed

Newton.Dill,you’reMr.Damon.Now,onedayTom’sinhislaboratoryworkingonamachinethatcanseethroughabrickwallwhenthismancomesinandsays,‘Mr.

Swift?’I’mTom,soIsay,‘Yessir?’—”“Can’tanythingsee

throughabrickwall,”saidDill.“Thisthingcould.

Anyway,thismancomesinandsays,‘Mr.Swift?’”“Jem,”shesaid,“ifthere’s

gonnabethismanwe’llneedsomebodyelse.WantmetorungetBennett?”“No,thismandoesn’tlast

long,soI’lljusttellhispart.

You’vegottobeginastory,Scout—”Thisman’spartconsisted

ofadvisingtheyounginventorthatavaluableprofessorhadbeenlostintheBelgianCongoforthirtyyearsanditwashightimesomebodytriedtogethimout.NaturallyhehadcometoseektheservicesofTomSwiftandhisfriends,andTomleapedattheprospectofadventure.

ThethreeclimbedintoHisFlyingMachine,whichwascomposedofwideboardstheyhadlongagonailedacrossthechinaberrytree’sheaviestbranches.“It’sawfulhotuphere,”

saidDill.“Huh-huh-huh.”“What?”saidJem.“Isayit’sawfulhotup

heresoclosetothesun.Blessmylongunderwear.”“Youcan’tsaythat,Dill.

Thehigheryougothecolder

itgets.”“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.“—wasamongalosttribe

ofheadhunters,”continued

Jem,ignoringher.“Ned,doyouhavetheriflewiththeX-raySight?Nowyousayyes.”Shesaid,“Yes,Tom.”“Mr.Damon,haveyou

stockedtheFlyingMachinewithenoughprovisions?MisterDamon!”Dilljerkedtoattention.

“Blessmyrollingpin,Tom.Yes-siree!Huh-huh-huh!”Theymadeathree-point

landingontheoutskirtsofCapetown,andshetoldJem

hehadn’tgivenheranythingtosayfortenminutesandshewasn’tgoingtoplayanymoreifhedidn’t.“Okay.Scout,yousay,

‘Tom,there’snotimetolose.Let’sheadforthejungle.’”Shesaidit.Theymarchedaroundthe

backyard,slashingatfoliage,occasionallypausingtopickoffastrayelephantorfightatribeofcannibals.Jemledtheway.Sometimesheshouted,

“Getback!”andtheyfellflatontheirbelliesinthewarmsand.OnceherescuedMr.DamonfromVictoriaFallswhileshestoodaroundandsulkedbecauseallshehadtodowasholdtheropethatheldJem.PresentlyJemcried,

“We’realmostthere,socomeon!”Theyrushedforwardtothe

carhouse,avillageofheadhunters.Jemdroppedto

hiskneesandbeganbehavinglikeasnakehealer.“Whatareyoudoing?”she

said.“Shh!Makingasacrifice.”“Youlookafflicted,”said

Dill.“What’sasacrifice?”“Youmakeittokeepthe

headhuntersoffyou.Look,theretheyare!”Jemmadealowhummingnoise,saidsomethinglike“buja-buja-buja,”andthecarhousecamealivewithsavages.

Dillrolledhiseyesupintheirsocketsinanauseatingway,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’sheadandsaid,“Look,Ned.He’scomingto.”

Dill’seyelidsflutteredandopened.Hegotupandreeledaroundtheyardmuttering,“WhereamI?”“Righthere,Dill,”shesaid,

insomealarm.Jemscowled.“Youknow

that’snotright.Yousay,‘Mr.Damon,you’relostintheBelgianCongowhereyouhavebeenputunderaspell.IamNedandthisisTom.’”“Arewelost,too?”said

Dill.

“Wewereallthetimeyouwerehexedbutwe’renotanymore,”saidJem.“ProfessorWigginsisstakedoutinahutoveryonderandwe’vegottogethim—”Forallsheknew,Professor

Wigginswasstillstakedout.Calpurniabrokeeverybody’sspellbystickingherheadoutthebackdoorandscreaming,“Yawlwantanylemonade?It’sten-thirty.Youallbetter

comegetsomeoryou’llbeboiledaliveinthatsun!”Calpurniahadplacedthree

tumblersandabigpitcherfulloflemonadeinsidethedooronthebackporch,anarrangementtoensuretheirstayingintheshadeforatleastfiveminutes.Lemonadeinthemiddleofthemorningwasadailyoccurrenceinthesummertime.Theydownedthreeglassesapieceandfoundtheremainderofthe

morninglyingemptilybeforethem.“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.Anysenseofisolationshemayhavehadwitheredanddiedinthepresenceofsometwohundredsinnersearnestlyrequestingtobeplungedbeneathared,redeeming

flood.WhileofferingtotheLordtheresultsofMr.Cowper’shallucination,ordeclaringitwasLovethatliftedher,JeanLouisesharedthewarmnessthatprevailsamongdiverseindividualswhofindthemselvesinthesameboatforonehoureachweek.Shewassittingbesideher

auntinthemiddlepewontherightsideoftheauditorium;herfatherandDr.Finchsat

sidebysideontheleft,thirdrowfromthefront.Whytheydiditwasamysterytoher,buttheyhadsattheretogethereversinceDr.FinchreturnedtoMaycomb.Nobodywouldtakethemforbrothers,shethought.It’shardtobelievehe’stenyearsolderthanUncleJack.AtticusFinchlookedlike

hismother;AlexandraandJohnHaleFinchlookedliketheirfather.Atticuswasa

headtallerthanhisbrother,hisfacewasbroadandopenwithastraightnoseandwidethinmouth,butsomethingaboutthethreemarkedthemaskin.UncleJackandAtticusaregettingwhiteinthesameplacesandtheireyesarealike,thoughtJeanLouise:that’swhatitis.Shewascorrect.AlltheFincheshadstraightincisiveeyebrowsandheavy-liddedeyes;whentheylookedslant-

wise,up,orstraightahead,adisinterestedobserverwouldcatchaglimpseofwhatMaycombcalledFamilyResemblance.Hermeditationswere

interruptedbyHenryClinton.Hehadpassedonecollectionplatedownthepewbehindher,andwhilewaitingforitsmatetoreturnviatherowshewassittingon,hewinkedopenlyandsolemnlyather.Alexandrasawhimand

lookedbluemurder.Henryandhisfellowusherwalkedupthecenteraisleandstoodreverentlyinfrontofthealtar.Immediatelyafter

collection,MaycombMethodistssangwhattheycalledtheDoxologyinlieuoftheministerprayingoverthecollectionplatetosparehimtherigorsinvolvedininventingyetanotherprayer,sincebythattimehehad

utteredthreehealthyinvocations.FromthetimeofJeanLouise’searliestecclesiasticalrecollection,MaycombhadsungtheDoxologyinonewayandinonewayonly:

Praise—God—from—whom—all—blessings—flow,

arenditionasmuchatraditionofSouthern

MethodismasPoundingthePreacher.ThatSunday,JeanLouiseandthecongregationwereinallinnocenceclearingtheirthroatstodragitaccordinglywhenoutofacloudlessskyMrs.ClydeHaskinscrasheddownontheorgan

PraiseGodfromwhomallBles—sings—Flo—w

PraiseHimallcreaturesHe—reBee—low

PraiseHimaboveyeHeav’n—lyHo—st

PraiseFatherSonandHo—lyGho—st!

Intheconfusionthatfollowed,iftheArchbishopofCanterburyhadmaterializedinfullregaliaJeanLouisewouldnothavebeenintheleastsurprised:thecongregationhadfailedtonoticeanychangeinMrs.Haskins’slifelong

interpretation,andtheyintonedtheDoxologytoitsbitterendastheyhadbeenrearedtodo,whileMrs.HaskinsrompedmadlyaheadlikesomethingoutofSalisburyCathedral.JeanLouise’sfirstthought

wasthatHerbertJemsonhadlosthismind.HerbertJemsonhadbeenmusicdirectoroftheMaycombMethodistChurchforaslongasshecouldremember.Hewasa

big,goodmanwithasoftbaritone,whoruledwitheasytactachoirofrepressedsoloists,andwhohadanunerringmemoryforthefavoritehymnsofDistrictSuperintendents.InthesundrychurchwarsthatwerealivingpartofMaycombMethodism,Herbertcouldbecountedonastheonepersontokeephishead,talksense,andreconcilethemoreprimitiveelementsofthe

congregationwiththeYoungTurkfaction.Hehaddevotedthirtyyears’sparetimetohischurch,andhischurchhadrecentlyrewardedhimwithatriptoaMethodistmusiccampinSouthCarolina.JeanLouise’ssecond

impulsewastoblameitontheminister.Hewasayoungman,aMr.Stonebyname,withwhatDr.Finchcalledthegreatesttalentfordullnesshehadeverseeninamanon

thenearsideoffifty.TherewasnothingwhateverwrongwithMr.Stone,exceptthathepossessedallthenecessaryqualificationsforacertifiedpublicaccountant:hedidnotlikepeople,hewasquickwithnumbers,hehadnosenseofhumor,andhewasbutt-headed.BecauseMaycomb’s

churchhadforyearsnotbeenlargeenoughforagoodministerbuttoobigfora

mediocreone,Maycombwasdelightedwhen,atthelastChurchConference,theauthoritiesdecidedtosenditsMethodistsanenergeticyoungone.ButafterlessthanayeartheyoungministerhadimpressedhiscongregationtoadegreethatmovedDr.FinchtoobserveabsentlyandaudiblyoneSunday:“WeaskedforbreadandtheygaveusaStone.”

Mr.Stonehadlongbeensuspectedofliberaltendencies;hewastoofriendly,somethought,withhisYankeebrethren;hehadrecentlyemergedpartiallydamagedfromacontroversyovertheApostles’Creed;andworstofall,hewasthoughttobeambitious.JeanLouisewasbuildingupanairtightcaseagainsthimwhensherememberedMr.Stonewastonedeaf.

UnruffledbyHerbertJemson’sbreachofallegiance,becausehehadnotheardit,Mr.StoneroseandwalkedtothepulpitwithBibleinhand.Heopeneditandsaid,“Mytextfortodayistakenfromthetwenty-firstchapterofIsaiah,versesix:

ForthushaththeLordsaiduntome,

Go,setawatchman,lethimdeclarewhathe

seeth.”

JeanLouisemadeasincereefforttolistentowhatMr.Stone’swatchmansaw,butinspiteofhereffortstoquellit,shefeltamusementturningintoindignantdispleasureandshestaredstraightatHerbertJemsonthroughouttheservice.Howdarehechangeit?WashetryingtoleadthembacktotheMotherChurch?Hadsheallowedreasonto

rule,shewouldhaverealizedthatHerbertJemsonwasMethodistofthewholecloth:hewasnotoriouslyshortontheologyandamilelongongoodworks.TheDoxology’sgone,

they’llbehavingincensenext—orthodoxy’smydoxy.DidUncleJacksaythatorwasitoneofhisoldbishops?Shelookedacrosstheaisletowardhimandsawthesharpedge

ofhisprofile:he’sinasnit,shethought.Mr.Stonedroned…a

Christiancanridhimselfofthefrustrationsofmodernlivingby…comingtoFamilyNighteveryWednesdayandbringingacovereddish…abidewithyounowandforevermore,Amen.Mr.Stonehadpronounced

thebenedictionandwasonhiswaytothefrontdoor

whenshewentdowntheaisletocornerHerbert,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,onahumidSundayafternoonatprecisely2:28

P.M.Thecircumstancesleadingtotheeventwerethese:Afterdinner,atwhichtime

JeanLouiseregaledherhouseholdwithDr.Finch’sobservationsonstylishhymn-singing,AtticussatinhiscornerofthelivingroomreadingtheSundaypapers,andJeanLouisewaslookingforwardtoanafternoon’shilaritywithheruncle,completewithteacakesand

thestrongestcoffeeinMaycomb.Thedoorbellrang.She

heardAtticuscall,“Comein!”andHenry’svoiceanswerhim,“Ready,Mr.Finch?”Shethrewdownthe

dishtowel;beforeshecouldleavethekitchenHenrystuckhisheadinthedoorandsaid,“Hey.”Alexandrapinnedhimto

thewallinnotimeflat:

“HenryClinton,yououghttobeashamedofyourself.”Henry,whosecharmswere

notinconsiderable,turnedthemfullforceonAlexandra,whoshowednosignsofmelting.“Now,MissAlexandra,”hesaid.“Youcan’tstaymadwithuslongevenifyoutry.”Alexandrasaid,“Igotyou

twooutofitthistime,butImaynotbearoundnexttime.”

“MissAlexandra,weappreciatethatmorethananything.”HeturnedtoJeanLouise.“Seven-thirtytonightandnoLanding.We’llgototheshow.”“Okay.Where’reyouall

going?”“Courthouse.Meeting.”“OnSunday?”“Yep.”“That’sright,Ikeep

forgettingallthepoliticking’s

doneonSundayintheseparts.”AtticuscalledforHenryto

comeon.“Bye,baby,”hesaid.JeanLouisefollowedhim

intothelivingroom.WhenthefrontdoorslammedbehindherfatherandHenry,shewenttoherfather’schairtotidyupthepapershehadleftonthefloorbesideit.Shepickedthemup,arrangedtheminsectionalorder,and

putthemonthesofainaneatpile.Shecrossedtheroomagaintostraightenthestackofbooksonhislamptable,andwasdoingsowhenapamphletthesizeofabusinessenvelopecaughthereye.Onitscoverwasadrawing

ofananthropophagousNegro;abovethedrawingwasprintedTheBlackPlague.Itsauthorwassomebodywithseveral

academicdegreesafterhisname.Sheopenedthepamphlet,satdowninherfather’schair,andbeganreading.Whenshehadfinished,shetookthepamphletbyoneofitscorners,helditlikeshewouldholdadeadratbythetail,andwalkedintothekitchen.Sheheldthepamphletinfrontofheraunt.“Whatisthisthing?”she

said.

Alexandralookedoverherglassesatit.“Somethingofyourfather’s.”JeanLouisesteppedonthe

garbagecantriggerandthrewthepamphletin.“Don’tdothat,”said

Alexandra.“They’rehardtocomebythesedays.”JeanLouiseopenedher

mouth,shutit,andopeneditagain.“Aunty,haveyoureadthatthing?Doyouknowwhat’sinit?”

“Certainly.”IfAlexandrahadutteredan

obscenityinherface,JeanLouisewouldhavebeenlesssurprised.“You—Aunty,doyou

knowthestuffinthatthingmakesDr.Goebbelslooklikeanaivelittlecountryboy?”“Idon’tknowwhatyou’re

talkingabout,JeanLouise.Therearealotoftruthsinthatbook.”

“Yesindeedy,”saidJeanLouisewryly.“IespeciallylikedthepartwheretheNegroes,blesstheirhearts,couldn’thelpbeinginferiortothewhiteracebecausetheirskullsarethickerandtheirbrain-pansshallower—whateverthatmeans—sowemustallbeverykindtothemandnotletthemdoanythingtohurtthemselvesandkeepthemintheirplaces.GoodGod,Aunty—”

Alexandrawasramrodstraight.“Well?”shesaid.JeanLouisesaid,“It’sjust

thatIneverknewyouwentinforsalaciousreadingmaterial,Aunty.”Herauntwassilent,and

JeanLouisecontinued:“Iwasrealimpressedwiththeparablewheresincethedawnofhistorytherulersoftheworldhavealwaysbeenwhite,exceptGenghisKhanorsomebody—theauthorwas

realfairaboutthat—andhemadeakillin’pointabouteventhePharaohswerewhiteandtheirsubjectswereeitherblackorJews—”“That’strue,isn’tit?”“Sure,butwhat’sthatgot

todowiththecase?”WhenJeanLouisefelt

apprehensive,expectant,oronedge,especiallywhenconfrontingheraunt,herbrainclickedtothemeterofGilbertiantomfoolery.Three

sprightlyfigureswhirledmadlyinherhead—hoursfilledwithUncleJackandDilldancingtopreposterousmeasuresblackedoutthecomingoftomorrowwithtomorrow’stroubles.Alexandrawastalkingto

her:“Itoldyou.It’ssomethingyourfatherbroughthomefromacitizens’councilmeeting.”“Fromawhat?”

“FromtheMaycombCountyCitizens’Council.Didn’tyouknowwehaveone?”“Ididnot.”“Well,yourfather’sonthe

boardofdirectorsandHenry’soneofthestaunchestmembers.”Alexandrasighed.“Notthatwereallyneedone.Nothing’shappenedhereinMaycombyet,butit’salwayswisetobeprepared.That’swheretheyarethisminute.”

“Citizens’council?InMaycomb?”JeanLouiseheardherselfrepeatingfatuously.“Atticus?”Alexandrasaid,“Jean

Louise,Idon’tthinkyoufullyrealizewhat’sbeengoingondownhere—”JeanLouiseturnedonher

heel,walkedtothefrontdoor,outofit,acrossthebroadfrontyard,downthestreettowardtownasfastasshecouldgo,Alexandra’s“you

aren’tgoingtotownLikeThat”echoingbehindher.Shehadforgottenthattherewasacaringoodrunningconditioninthegarage,thatitskeyswereonthehalltable.Shewalkedswiftly,keepingtimetotheabsurdjinglerunningthroughherhead.

Here’sahow-de-do!IfImarryyou,

Whenyourtimehascometoperish

Thenthemaidenwhomyoucherish

Mustbeslaughtered,too!Here’sahow-de-do!

WhatwereHankandAtticusupto?Whatwasgoingon?Shedidnotknow,butbeforethesunwentdownshewouldfindout.Ithadsomethingtodowith

thatpamphletshefoundin

thehouse—sittingtherebeforeGodandeverybody—somethingtodowithcitizens’councils.Sheknewaboutthem,allright.NewYorkpapersfullofit.Shewishedshehadpaidmoreattentiontothem,butonlyoneglancedownacolumnofprintwasenoughtotellherafamiliarstory:samepeoplewhoweretheInvisibleEmpire,whohatedCatholics;ignorant,fear-ridden,red-

faced,boorish,law-abiding,onehundredpercentred-bloodedAnglo-Saxons,herfellowAmericans—trash.AtticusandHankwere

pullingsomething,theyweretheremerelytokeepaneyeonthings—AuntysaidAtticuswasontheboardofdirectors.Shewaswrong.Itwasallamistake;Auntygotmixeduponherfactssometimes….

Sheslowedupwhenshecametothetown.Itwasdeserted;onlytwocarswereinfrontofthedrugstore.Theoldcourthousestoodwhiteintheafternoonglare.Ablackhoundlopeddownthestreetinthedistance,themonkeypuzzlesbristledsilentlyonthecornersofthesquare.Whenshewenttothenorth

sideentranceshesawemptycarsstandinginadoublerowthelengthofthebuilding.

Whenshewentupthecourthousestepsshemissedtheelderlymenwholoiteredthere,shemissedthewatercoolerthatstoodinsidethedoor,missedthecane-bottomchairsinthehallway;shedidnotmissthedankurine-sweetodorofsunlesscountycubbyholes.Shewalkedpasttheofficesofthetaxcollector,taxassessor,countyclerk,registrar,judgeofprobate,upoldunpainted

stairstothecourtroomfloor,upasmallcoveredstairwaytotheColoredbalcony,walkedoutintoit,andtookheroldplaceinthecornerofthefrontrow,wheresheandherbrotherhadsatwhentheywenttocourttowatchtheirfather.Belowher,onrough

benches,satnotonlymostofthetrashinMaycombCounty,butthecounty’smostrespectablemen.

Shelookedtowardthefarendoftheroom,andbehindtherailingthatseparatedcourtfromspectators,atalongtable,satherfather,HenryClinton,severalmensheknewonlytoowell,andamanshedidnotknow.Attheendofthetable,

sittinglikeagreatdropsicalgrayslug,wasWilliamWilloughby,thepoliticalsymbolofeverythingherfatherandmenlikehim

despised.He’sthelastofhiskind,shethought.Atticus’dscarcelygivehimthetimeofday,andthereheisatthesame…WilliamWilloughbywas

indeedthelastofhiskind,forawhile,atleast.Hewasbleedingslowlytodeathinthemidstofabundance,forhislife’sbloodwaspoverty.EverycountyintheDeepSouthhadaWilloughby,eachsoliketheotherthatthey

constitutedacategorycalledHe,theGreatBigMan,theLittleMan,allowingforminorterritorialdifferences.He,orwhateverhissubjectscalledhim,occupiedtheleadingadministrativeofficeinhiscounty—usuallyhewassherifforjudgeorprobate—butthereweremutations,likeMaycomb’sWilloughby,whochosetogracenopublicoffice.Willoughbywasrare—hispreferencetoremain

behindthescenesimpliedtheabsenceofvastpersonalconceit,atraitessentialfortwo-pennydespots.Willoughbychosetorun

thecountynotinitsmostcomfortableoffice,butinwhatwasbestdescribedasahutch—asmall,dark,evil-smellingroomwithhisnameonthedoor,containingnothingmorethanatelephone,akitchentable,andunpaintedcaptain’s

chairsofrichpatina.WhereverWilloughbywent,therefollowedaxiomaticallyacoterieofpassive,mostlynegativecharactersknownastheCourthouseCrowd,specimensWilloughbyhadputintothevariouscountyandmunicipalofficestodoastheyweretold.Sittingatthetableby

Willoughbywasoneofthem,Tom-CarlJoyner,hisright-handmanandjustlyproud:

wasn’theinwithWilloughbyfromthebeginning?DidhenotdoallofWilloughby’slegwork?Didhenot,intheolddaysduringtheDepression,knockontenant-cabindoorsatmidnight,didhenotdrumitintotheheadofeveryignoranthungrywretchwhoacceptedpublicassistance,whetherjoborreliefmoney,thathisvotewasWilloughby’s?Novotee,noeatee.Likehislesser

satellites,overtheyearsTom-Carlhadassumedanill-fittingairofrespectabilityanddidnotcaretoberemindedofhisnefariousbeginnings.Tom-CarlsatthatSundaysecureintheknowledgethatthesmallempirehehadlostsomuchsleepbuildingwouldbehiswhenWilloughbylostinterestordied.NothinginTom-Carl’sfaceindicatedthathemighthavearudesurprise

comingtohim:already,prosperity-bredindependencehadunderminedhiskingdomuntilitwasfoundering;twomoreelectionsanditwouldcrumbleintothesismaterialforasociologymajor.JeanLouisewatchedhisself-importantlittlefaceandalmostlaughedwhenshereflectedthattheSouthwasindeedpitilesstorewarditspublicservantswithextinction.

Shelookeddownonrowsoffamiliarheads—whitehair,brownhair,haircarefullycombedtohidenohair—andsherememberedhow,longagowhencourtwasdull,shewouldquietlyaimspitballsattheshiningdomesbelow.JudgeTaylorcaughtheratitonedayandthreatenedherwithabenchwarrant.Thecourthouseclock

creaked,strained,said,“Phlugh!”andstruckthe

hour.Two.Whenthesoundshiveredawayshesawherfatherriseandaddresstheassemblyinhisdrycourtroomvoice:“Gentlemen,ourspeaker

fortodayisMr.GradyO’Hanlon.Heneedsnointroduction.Mr.O’Hanlon.”Mr.O’Hanlonroseand

said,“Asthecowsaidtothemilkmanonacoldmorning,‘Thankyouforthewarmhand.’”

ShehadneverseenorheardofMr.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,livedallhislifethere,andhismaininteresttodaywastouphold

theSouthernWayofLifeandnoniggersandnoSupremeCourtwasgoingtotellhimoranybodyelsewhattodo…araceashammer-headedas…essentialinferiority…kinkywoollyheads…stillinthetrees…greasysmelly…marryyourdaughters…mongrelizetherace…mongrelize…mongrelize…savetheSouth…BlackMonday…lowerthancockroaches…Godmadethe

races…nobodyknowswhybutHeintendedfor’emtostayapart…ifHehadn’tHe’d’vemadeusallonecolor…backtoAfrica…Sheheardherfather’s

voice,atinyvoicetalkinginthewarmcomfortablepast.Gentlemen,ifthere’sonesloganinthisworldIbelieve,itisthis:equalrightsforall,specialprivilegesfornone.Thesetop-waternigger

preachers…likeapes…

mouthslikeNumber2cans…twisttheGospel…thecourtpreferstolistentoCommunists…take’emalloutandshoot’emfortreason…AgainstMr.O’Hanlon’s

hummingharangue,amemorywasrisingtodisputehim:thecourtroomshiftedimperceptibly,initshelookeddownonthesameheads.Whenshelookedacrosstheroomajurysatin

thebox,JudgeTaylorwasonthebench,hispilotfishsatbelowinfrontofhimwritingsteadily;herfatherwasonhisfeet:hehadrisenfromatableatwhichshecouldseethebackofakinkywoollyhead….AtticusFinchrarelytooka

criminalcase;hehadnotasteforcriminallaw.Theonlyreasonhetookthisonewasbecauseheknewhisclienttobeinnocentofthecharge,and

hecouldnotforthelifeofhimlettheblackboygotoprisonbecauseofahalf-hearted,court-appointeddefense.TheboyhadcometohimbywayofCalpurnia,toldhimhisstory,andhadtoldhimthetruth.Thetruthwasugly.Atticustookhiscareerin

hishands,madegooduseofacarelessindictment,tookhisstandbeforeajury,andaccomplishedwhatwasnever

beforeorafterwardsdoneinMaycombCounty:hewonanacquittalforacoloredboyonarapecharge.Thechiefwitnessfortheprosecutionwasawhitegirl.Atticushadtwoweighty

advantages:althoughthewhitegirlwasfourteenyearsofagethedefendantwasnotindictedforstatutoryrape,thereforeAtticuscouldanddidproveconsent.Consentwaseasiertoprovethan

undernormalconditions—thedefendanthadonlyonearm.Theotherwaschoppedoffinasawmillaccident.Atticuspursuedthecaseto

itsconclusionwitheverysparkofhisabilityandwithaninstinctivedistastesobitteronlyhisknowledgethathecouldlivepeacefullywithhimselfwasabletowashitaway.Aftertheverdict,hewalkedoutofthecourtroominthemiddleoftheday,

walkedhome,andtookasteamingbath.Henevercountedwhatitcosthim;heneverlookedback.Heneverknewtwopairsofeyeslikehisownwerewatchinghimfromthebalcony.…notthequestionof

whethersnot-nosedniggerswillgotoschoolwithyourchildrenorridethefrontofthebus…it’swhetherChristiancivilizationwillcontinuetobeorwhetherwe

willbeslavesoftheCommunists…niggerlawyers…stompedontheConstitution…ourJewishfriends…killedJesus…votedthenigger…ourgranddaddies…niggerjudgesandsheriffs…separateisequal…ninety-fivepercentofthetaxmoney…fortheniggerandtheoldhounddog…followingthegoldencalf…preachtheGospel…oldladyRoosevelt

…nigger-lover…entertainsforty-fiveniggersbutnotonefreshwhiteSouthernvirgin…HueyLong,thatChristiangentleman…blackasburntlight’udknots…bribedtheSupremeCourt…decentwhiteChristians…wasJesuscrucifiedforthenigger…JeanLouise’shandslipped.

Sheremoveditfromthebalconyrailingandlookedatit.Itwasdrippingwet.Awetplaceontherailingmirrored

thinlightcomingthroughtheupperwindows.ShestaredatherfathersittingtotherightofMr.O’Hanlon,andshedidnotbelievewhatshesaw.ShestaredatHenrysittingtotheleftofMr.O’Hanlon,andshedidnotbelievewhatshesaw……buttheyweresittingall

overthecourtroom.Menofsubstanceandcharacter,responsiblemen,goodmen.Menofallvarietiesand

reputations…itseemedthattheonlymaninthecountynotpresentwasUncleJack.UncleJack—shewassupposedtogoseehimsometime.When?Sheknewlittleofthe

affairsofmen,butsheknewthatherfather’spresenceatthetablewithamanwhospewedfilthfromhismouth—didthatmakeitlessfilthy?No.Itcondoned.

Shefeltsick.Herstomachshut,shebegantotremble.Hank.Everynerveinherbody

shrieked,thendied.Shewasnumb.Shepulledherselftoher

feetclumsily,andstumbledfromthebalconydownthecoveredstaircase.Shedidnothearherfeetscrapingdownthebroadstairs,orthecourthouseclocklaboriouslystriketwo-thirty;shedidnot

feelthedankairofthefirstfloor.Theglaringsunpiercedher

eyeswithpain,andsheputherhandstoherface.Whenshetookthemdownslowlytoadjusthereyesfromdarktolight,shesawMaycombwithnopeopleinit,shimmeringinthesteamingafternoon.Shewalkeddownthesteps

andintotheshadeofaliveoak.Sheputherarmoutandleanedagainstthetrunk.She

lookedatMaycomb,andherthroattightened:Maycombwaslookingbackather.Goaway,theoldbuildings

said.Thereisnoplaceforyouhere.Youarenotwanted.Wehavesecrets.Inobediencetothem,in

thesilentheatshewalkeddownMaycomb’smainthoroughfare,ahighwayleadingtoMontgomery.Shewalkedon,pasthouseswithwidefrontyardsinwhich

movedgreen-thumbedladiesandslowlargemen.ShethoughtsheheardMrs.WheeleryellingtoMissMaudieAtkinsonacrossthestreet,andifMissMaudiesawhershewouldsaycomeinandhavesomecake,I’vejustmadeabigonefortheDoctorandalittleoneforyou.Shecountedthecracksinthesidewalk,steeledherselfforMrs.HenryLafayetteDubose’sonslaught

—Don’tyousayheytome,JeanLouiseFinch,yousaygoodafternoon!—hurriedbytheoldsteep-roofedhouse,pastMissRachel’s,andfoundherselfhome.

HOME-MADEICECREAM.Sheblinkedhard.I’m

losingmymind,shethought.Shetriedtowalkonbutit

wastoolate.Thesquare,squat,modernicecreamshopwhereheroldhomehadbeenwasopen,andamanwas

peeringoutthewindowather.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’stablesand

chairsoutintheback.Folks

setoutthereatnightandeattheiricecream.”Thebackyardwasstrewn

overwithwhitegravel.Howsmallitlookswithnohouse,nocarhouse,nochinaberrytrees,shethought.Shesatdownatatableandputthecontaineroficecreamonit.I’vegottothink.Ithappenedsoquicklythat

herstomachwasstillheaving.Shebreatheddeeplytoquietenit,butitwouldnot

staystill.Shefeltherselfturninggreenwithnausea,andsheputherheaddown;tryasshemightshecouldnotthink,sheonlyknew,andwhatsheknewwasthis:Theonehumanbeingshe

hadeverfullyandwholeheartedlytrustedhadfailedher;theonlymanshehadeverknowntowhomshecouldpointandsaywithexpertknowledge,“Heisagentleman,inhisheartheisa

gentleman,”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.IfDillwereherehewouldleapover

thefencetoher,bringherheaddowntohis,kissher,andholdherhand,andtogethertheywouldtaketheirstandwhentherewastroubleinthehouse.ButDillhadlongsincegonefromher.Hernauseareturnedwith

redoubledviolencewhensherememberedthesceneinthecourthouse,butshehadnothinglefttopartwith.Ifyouhadonlyspatinmy

face…

Itcouldbe,mightbe,stillwas,ahorriblemistake.Hermindrefusedtoregisterwhathereyesandearstoldit.Shereturnedtoherchairandsatstaringatapoolofmeltedvanillaicecreamworkingitswayslowlytotheedgeofthetable.Itspread,paused,dribbledanddripped.Drip,drip,drip,intothewhitegraveluntil,saturated,itcouldnolongerreceiveandasecondtinypoolappeared.

Youdidthat.Youdiditassureasyouweresittingthere.“Guessedmynameyet?

Whylookayonder,you’vewastedyouricecream.”Sheraisedherhead.The

manintheshopwasleaningoutthebackwindow,lessthanfivefeetfromher.Hewithdrewandreappearedwithalimprag.Ashewipedthemessawayhesaid,“What’smyname?”Rumpelstiltskin.

“Oh,Iamsorry.”Shelookedatthemancarefully.“Areyouoneofthecee-ohConinghams?”Themangrinnedbroadly.

“Almost.I’moneofthecee-you’s.How’dyouknow?”“Familyresemblance.

Whatgotyououtofthewoods?”“Mammaleftmesome

timberandIsoldit.Putupthisshophere.”

“Whattimeisit?”sheasked.“Gettin’ontofour-thirty,”

saidMr.Cunningham.Sherose,smiledgoodbye,

andsaidshewouldbecomingbacksoon.Shemadeherwaytothesidewalk.TwosolidhoursandIdidn’tknowwhereIwas.Iamsotired.Shedidnotreturnbytown.

Shewalkedthelongwayround,throughaschoolyard,downastreetlinedwith

pecantrees,acrossanotherschoolyard,acrossafootballfieldonwhichJeminadazehadoncetackledhisownman.Iamsotired.Alexandrawasstandingin

thedoorway.ShesteppedasidetoletJeanLouisepass.“Wherehaveyoubeen?”shesaid.“Jackcalledagesagoandaskedafteryou.HaveyoubeenvisitingoutofthefamilyLikeThat?”“I—Idon’tknow.”

“Whatdoyoumeanyoudon’tknow?JeanLouise,talksomesenseandgophoneyouruncle.”Shewentwearilytothe

telephoneandsaid,“Oneonenine.”Dr.Finch’svoicesaid,“Dr.Finch.”Shesaidsoftly,“I’msorry.Seeyoutomorrow?”Dr.Finchsaid,“Right.”Shewastootiredtobe

amusedatheruncle’stelephonemanners:he

viewedsuchinstrumentswithdeepangerandhisconversationsweremonosyllabicatbest.Whensheturnedaround

Alexandrasaid,“Youlookrightpuny.What’sthematter?”Madam,myfatherhasleft

mefloppinglikeaflounderatlowtideandyousaywhat’sthematter.“Stomach,”shesaid.

“There’salotofthatgoingaroundnow.Doesithurt?”Yesithurts.Likehell.It

hurtssomuchIcan’tstandit.“Noma’am,justupset.”“Thenwhydon’tyoutake

anAlka-Seltzer?”JeanLouisesaidshe

would,andthedaydawnedforAlexandra:“JeanLouise,didyougotothatmeetingwithallthosementhere?”“Yes’m.”“LikeThat?”

“Yes’m.”“Wheredidyousit?”“Inthebalcony.They

didn’tseeme.Iwatchedfromthebalcony.Aunty,whenHankcomestonighttellhimI’m…indisposed.”“Indisposed?”Shecouldnotstandthere

anotherminute.“Yes,Aunty.I’mgonnadowhateveryChristianyoungwhitefreshSouthernvirgindoeswhenshe’sindisposed.”

“Andwhatmightthatbe?”“I’mtakin’tomybed.”JeanLouisewenttoher

room,shutthedoor,unbuttonedherblouse,unzippedtheflyofherslacks,andfellacrosshermother’slacywrought-ironbed.Shegropedblindlyforapillowandpusheditunderherface.Inoneminuteshewasasleep.Hadshebeenabletothink,

JeanLouisemighthavepreventedeventstocomeby

consideringtheday’soccurrencesintermsofarecurringstoryasoldastime:thechapterwhichconcernedherbegantwohundredyearsagoandwasplayedoutinaproudsocietythebloodiestwarandharshestpeaceinmodernhistorycouldnotdestroy,returning,tobeplayedoutagainonprivategroundinthetwilightofacivilizationnowarsandnopeacecouldsave.

Hadsheinsight,couldshehavepiercedthebarriersofherhighlyselective,insularworld,shemayhavediscoveredthatallherlifeshehadbeenwithavisualdefectwhichhadgoneunnoticedandneglectedbyherselfandbythoseclosesttoher:shewasborncolorblind.

PARTIV

11

THEREWASAtime,longago,whentheonlypeacefulmomentsofherexistencewerethosefromthetimesheopenedhereyesinthemorninguntilsheattainedfullconsciousness,amatterofsecondsuntilwhenfinallyrousedsheenteredtheday’swakefulnightmare.

Shewasinthesixthgrade,agradememorableforthethingsshelearnedinclassandout.ThatyearthesmallgroupoftownchildrenwereswampedtemporarilybyacollectionofelderlypupilsshippedinfromOldSarumbecausesomebodyhadsetfiretotheschoolthere.TheoldestboyinMissBlunt’ssixthgradewasnearlynineteen,andhehadthreecontemporaries.Therewere

severalgirlsofsixteen,voluptuous,happycreatureswhothoughtschoolsomethingofaholidayfromchoppingcottonandfeedinglivestock.MissBluntwasequaltothemall:shewasastallasthetallestboyintheclassandtwiceaswide.JeanLouisetooktotheOld

Sarumnewcomersimmediately.Afterholdingtheclass’sundividedattentionbydeliberately

introducingGastonB.MeansintoadiscussiononthenaturalresourcesofSouthAfrica,andprovingheraccuracywitharubberbandgunduringrecess,sheenjoyedtheconfidenceoftheOldSarumcrowd.Withroughgentlenessthe

bigboystaughthertoshootcrapsandchewtobaccowithoutlosingit.Thebiggirlsgiggledbehindtheirhandsmostofthetimeand

whisperedamongthemselvesagreatdeal,butJeanLouiseconsideredthemusefulwhenchoosingsidesforavolleyballmatch.Allinall,itwasturningouttobeawonderfulyear.Wonderful,untilshewent

homefordinneroneday.Shedidnotreturntoschoolthatafternoon,butspenttheafternoononherbedcryingwithrageandtryingtounderstandtheterrible

informationshehadreceivedfromCalpurnia.Thenextdayshereturned

toschoolwalkingwithextremedignity,notprideful,butencumberedbyaccoutrementshithertounfamiliartoher.Shewaspositiveeverybodyknewwhatwasthematterwithher,thatshewasbeinglookedat,butshewaspuzzledthatshehadneverhearditspokenofbeforeinallheryears.Maybe

nobodyknowsanythingaboutit,shethought.Ifthatwasso,shehadnews,allright.Atrecess,whenGeorge

HillaskedhertobeItforHot-Grease-in-the-Kitchen,sheshookherhead.“Ican’tdoanythingany

more,”shesaid,andshesatonthestepsandwatchedtheboystumbleinthedust.“Ican’tevenwalk.”Whenshecouldbearitno

longer,shejoinedtheknotof

girlsundertheliveoakinacorneroftheschoolyard.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.WhenheractivitieswerelimitedJeanLouiseconfinedherselftogamblingforsmallsumsbehindacoalpileintherearoftheschoolbuilding.Theinherentdangerousnessoftheenterpriseappealedtoherfarmorethanthegameitself;shewasnotgoodenoughatarithmetictocarewhethershewonorlost,therewasnorealjoyintryingtobeatthelawofaverages,butshederived

somepleasurefromdeceivingMissBlunt.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.Herloaferswerestandingat

attentionwhereshehadsteppedoutofthemtwelvehoursago.Onesockwaslyingbesidehershoesandshediscovereditsmateonherfoot.Sheremovedthesockandpaddedsoftlytothedressingtable,whereshecaughtsightofherselfinthemirror.Shelookedruefullyather

reflection.YouhavehadwhatMr.Burgesswouldcall“The’Orrors,”shetoldit.Golly,I

haven’twakeduplikethisforfifteenyears.TodayisMonday,I’vebeenhomesinceSaturday,Ihaveelevendaysofmyvacationleft,andIwakeupwiththescreamin’meemies.Shelaughedatherself:well,itwasthelongestonrecord—longerthanelephantsandnothingtoshowforit.Shepickedupapackageof

cigarettesandthreekitchenmatches,stuffedthematches

behindthecellophanewrapper,andwalkedquietlyintothehall.Sheopenedthewoodendoor,thenthescreendoor.Onanyotherdayshe

wouldhavestoodbarefootonthewetgrasslisteningtothemockingbirds’earlyservice;shewouldhaveponderedoverthemeaninglessnessofsilent,austerebeautyrenewingitselfwitheverysunriseandgoingungazedat

byhalftheworld.Shewouldhavewalkedbeneathyellow-ringedpinesrisingtoabrillianteasternsky,andhersenseswouldhavesuccumbedtothejoyofthemorning.Itwaswaitingtoreceive

her,butsheneitherlookednorlistened.Shehadtwominutesofpeacebeforeyesterdayreturned:nothingcankillthepleasureofone’sfirstcigaretteonanew

morning.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-glassplattersstackedthree-deepwithdelicatesandwiches.

“IsthatAtticus’sdinner?”“No,he’sgoingtotryto

eatdowntowntoday.Youknowhowhehatesbarginginonabunchofwomen.”HolyMosesKingofthe

Jews.TheCoffee.“Sweet,whydon’tyouget

thelivingroomready.They’llbehereinanhour.”“Who’veyouinvited?”Alexandracalledouta

guestlistsopreposterousthatJeanLouisesighedheavily.

Halfthewomenwereyoungerthanshe,halfwereolder;theyhadsharednoexperiencethatshecouldrecall,exceptonefemalewithwhomshehadquarreledsteadilyallthroughgrammarschool.“Where’severybodyinmyclass?”shesaid.“About,Isuppose.”Ahyes.About,inOld

Sarumandpointsdeeperinthewoods.Shewonderedwhathadbecomeofthem.

“Didyougovisitingthismorning?”askedAlexandra.“WenttoseeCal.”Alexandra’sknifeclattered

onthetable.“JeanLouise!”“Nowwhatthehell’sthe

matter?”ThisisthelastroundIwilleverhavewithher,sohelpmeGod.Ihaveneverbeenabletodoanythingrightinmylifeasfarasshe’sconcerned.“Calmdown,Miss.”

Alexandra’svoicewascold.

“JeanLouise,nobodyinMaycombgoestoseeNegroesanymore,notafterwhatthey’vebeendoingtous.Besidesbeingshiftlessnowtheylookatyousometimeswithopeninsolence,andasfarasdependingonthemgoes,whythat’sout.“ThatNAACP’scome

downhereandfilled’emwithpoisontillitrunsoutoftheirears.It’ssimplybecause

we’vegotastrongsheriffthatwehaven’thadbadtroubleinthiscountysofar.Youdonotrealizewhatisgoingon.We’vebeengoodto’em,we’vebailed’emoutofjailandoutofdebtsincethebeginningoftime,we’vemadeworkfor’emwhentherewasnowork,we’veencouraged’emtobetterthemselves,they’vegottencivilized,butmydear—thatveneerofcivilization’sso

thinthatabunchofuppityYankeeNegroescanshatterahundredyears’progressinfive….“Noma’am,afterthe

thanksthey’vegivenusforlookingafter’em,nobodyinMaycombfeelsmuchinclinedtohelp’emwhentheygetintroublenow.Alltheydoisbitethehandsthatfeed’em.Nosir,notanymore—theycanshiftforthemselves,now.”

Shehadslepttwelvehours,andhershouldersachedfromweariness.“MaryWebster’sSarah’s

carriedacardforyears—so’severybody’scookinthistown.WhenCalpurnialeftIsimplycouldn’tbebotheredwithanotherone,notforjustAtticusandme.Keepinganiggerhappythesedaysislikecateringtoaking—”MySaintedAuntistalking

likeMr.GradyO’Hanlon,

wholefthisjobtodevotehisfulltimetothepreservationofsegregation.“—youhavetofetchand

toteforthemuntilyouwonderwho’swaitingonwho.It’sjustnotworththetroublethesedays—whereareyougoing?”“Togetthelivingroom

ready.”Shesankintoadeep

armchairandconsideredhowalloccasionshadmadeher

poorindeed.Myauntisahostilestranger,myCalpurniawon’thaveanythingtodowithme,Hankisinsane,andAtticus—something’swrongwithme,it’ssomethingaboutme.Ithastobebecauseallthesepeoplecannothavechanged.Whydoesn’ttheirflesh

creep?Howcantheydevoutlybelieveeverythingtheyhearinchurchandthensaythethingstheydoand

listentothethingstheyhearwithoutthrowingup?IthoughtIwasaChristianbutI’mnot.I’msomethingelseandIdon’tknowwhat.EverythingIhaveevertakenforrightandwrongthesepeoplehavetaughtme—thesesame,theseverypeople.Soit’sme,it’snotthem.Somethinghashappenedtome.Theyarealltryingtotell

meinsomeweird,echoing

waythatit’sallonaccountoftheNegroes…butit’snomoretheNegroesthanIcanflyandGodknows,Imightflyoutthewindowanytime,now.“Haven’tyoudonethe

livingroom?”Alexandrawasstandinginfrontofher.JeanLouisegotupanddid

thelivingroom.

THEMAGPIESARRIVEDat10:30,onschedule.Jean

Louisestoodonthefrontstepsandgreetedthemonebyoneastheyentered.Theyworeglovesandhats,andsmelledtohighheavenofattars,perfumes,eaus,andbathpowder.TheirmakeupwouldhaveputanEgyptiandraftsmantoshame,andtheirclothes—particularlytheirshoes—haddefinitelybeenpurchasedinMontgomeryorMobile:JeanLouisespottedA.Nachman,Gayfer’s,

Levy’s,Hammel’s,onallsidesofthelivingroom.Whatdotheytalkabout

thesedays?JeanLouisehadlostherear,butshepresentlyrecoveredit.TheNewlywedschatteredsmuglyoftheirBobsandMichaels,ofhowtheyhadbeenmarriedtoBobandMichaelforfourmonthsandBobandMichaelhadgainedtwentypoundsapiece.JeanLouisecrushedthetemptationtoenlightenher

youngguestsupontheprobableclinicalreasonsfortheirlovedones’rapidgrowth,andsheturnedherattentiontotheDiaperSet,whichdistressedherbeyondmeasure:WhenJerrywastwo

monthsoldhelookedupatmeandsaid…toilettrainingshouldreallybeginwhen…hewaschristenedhegrabbedMr.StonebythehairandMr.Stone…wetsthebednow.I

brokeherofthatthesametimeIbrokeherfromsuckingherfinger,with…thecu-utest,absolutelythecutestsweatshirtyou’veeverseen:it’sgotalittleredelephantand“CrimsonTide”writtenrightacrossthefront…anditcostusfivedollarstogetityankedout.TheLightBrigadesatto

theleftofher:intheirearlyandmiddlethirties,theydevotedmostoftheirfree

timetotheAmanuensisClub,bridge,andgettingone-uponeachotherinthematterofelectricalappliances:Johnsays…Calvinsays

it’sthe…kidneys,butAllentookmeofffriedthings…whenIgotcaughtinthatzipperIliketohavenever…wonderwhatonearthmakesherthinkshecangetawaywithit…poorthing,ifIwereinherplaceI’dtake…shocktreatments,that’swhat

shehad.Theysayshe…kicksbacktherugeverySaturdaynightwhenLawrenceWelkcomeson…andlaugh,IthoughtI’ddie!Therehewas,in…myoldweddingdress,andyouknow,Icanstillwearit.JeanLouiselookedatthe

threePerennialHopefulsonherright.TheywerejollyMaycombgirlsofexcellentcharacterwhohadnevermadethegrade.Theywere

patronizedbytheirmarriedcontemporaries,theywerevaguelyfeltsorryfor,andwereproducedtodateanystrayextramanwhohappenedtobevisitingtheirfriends.JeanLouiselookedatoneofthemwithacidamusement:whenJeanLouisewasten,shemadeheronlyattempttojoinacrowd,andsheaskedSarahFinleyoneday,“CanIcometoseeyouthisafternoon?”“No,”

saidSarah,“Mammasaysyou’retoorough.”Nowwearebothlonely,

forentirelydifferentreasons,butitfeelsthesame,doesn’tit?ThePerennialHopefuls

talkedquietlyamongthemselves:longestdayIeverhad…

inthebackofthebankbuilding…anewhouseoutontheroadby…theTrainingUnion,additallup

andyouspendfourhourseverySundayinchurch…timesI’vetoldMr.FredIlikemytomatoes…boilinghot.Itold’emiftheydidn’tgetair-conditioninginthatofficeI’d…throwupthewholegame.Nowwho’dwanttopullatricklikethat?JeanLouisethrewherself

intothebreach:“Stillatthebank,Sarah?”“Goodnessyes.Bethere

tillIdrop.”

Um.“Ah,whateverhappenedtoJane—whatwasherlastname?Youknow,yourhighschoolfriend?”SarahandJaneWhat-Was-Her-Last-Namewereonceinseparable.“Ohher.Shegotmarried

toarightpeculiarboyduringthewarandnowsherollsherah’sso,you’dneverrecognizeher.”“Oh?Where’ssheliving

now?”

“Mobile.ShewenttoWashingtonduringthewarandgotthishideousaccent.Everybodythoughtshewasputtin’onsobad,butnobodyhadthenervetotellhersoshestilldoesit.Rememberhowsheusedtowalkwithherheadwayup,likethis?Shestilldoes.”“Shedoes?”“Uhhum.”Auntyhasheruses,damn

her,thoughtJeanLouise

whenshecaughtAlexandra’ssignal.Shewenttothekitchenandbroughtoutatrayofcocktailnapkins.Asshepassedthemdowntheline,JeanLouisefeltasifshewererunningdownthekeysofagiganticharpsichord:Ineverinallmylife…

sawthatmarvelouspicture…witholdMr.Healy…lyingonthemantelpieceinfrontofmyeyesthewholetime…isit?Justabouteleven,Ithink

…she’llwindupgettin’adivorce.Afterall,thewayhe…rubbedmybackeveryhourthewholeninthmonth…wouldhavekilledyou.Ifyoucouldhaveseenhim…piddlingeveryfiveminutesduringthenight.Iputastop…toeverybodyinourclassexceptthathorridgirlfromOldSarum.Shewon’tknowthedifference…betweenthelines,butyouknowexactlywhathemeant.

Backupthescalewiththesandwiches:Mr.Talbertlookedatme

andsaid…he’dneverlearntositonthepot…ofbeanseveryThursdaynight.That’stheoneYankeethinghepickedupinthe…WaroftheRoses?No,honey,IsaidWarrenproposes…tothegarbagecollector.ThatwasallIcoulddoaftershegotthrough…therye.Ijustcouldn’thelpit,itmademe

feellikeabig…A-men!I’llbesogladwhenthat’sover…thewayhe’streatedher…pilesandpilesofdiapers,andhesaidwhywasIsotired?Afterall,he’dbeen…inthefilesthewholetime,that’swhereitwas.Alexandrawalkedbehind

her,mufflingthekeyswithcoffeeuntiltheysubsidedtoagentlehum.JeanLouisedecidedthattheLightBrigademightsuitherbest,

andshedrewupahassockandjoinedthem.ShecutHesterSinclairfromthecovey:“How’sBill?”“Fine.Getshardertolive

witheveryday.Wasn’tthatbadaboutoldMr.Healythismorning?”“Certainlywas.”Hestersaid,“Didn’tthat

boyhavesomethingtodowithyouall?”“Yes.He’sourCalpurnia’s

grandson.”

“Golly,Ineverknowwhotheyarethesedays,alltheyoungones.Reckonthey’lltryhimformurder?”“Manslaughter,Ishould

think.”“Oh.”Hesterwas

disappointed.“Yes,Ireckonthat’sright.Hedidn’tmeantodoit.”“No,hedidn’tmeantodo

it.”Hesterlaughed.“AndI

thoughtwe’dhavesome

excitement.”JeanLouise’sscalp

jumped.IguessI’mlosingmysenseofhumor,maybethat’swhatitis.I’mgettin’likeCousinEdgar.Hesterwassaying,“—

hasn’tbeenagoodtrialaroundhereintenyears.Goodniggertrial,Imean.Nothingbutcuttin’anddrinkin’.”“Doyouliketogoto

court?”

“Sure.Wildestdivorcecaselastspringyoueversaw.SomeyapsfromOldSarum.It’sagoodthingJudgeTaylor’sdead—youknowhowhehatedthatsortofthing,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’t

knowhowtodothethingstheydo.Ifwemarried—ifImarriedanybodyfromthistown—thesewouldbemyfriends,andIcouldn’tthinkofathingtosaytothem.IwouldbeJeanLouisetheSilent.Icouldn’tpossiblybringoffoneoftheseaffairsbymyself,andthere’sAuntyhavingthetimeofherlife.I’dbechurchedtodeath,bridge-partiedtodeath,calledupontogivebookreviewsatthe

AmanuensisClub,expectedtobecomeapartofthecommunity.IttakesalotofwhatIdon’thavetobeamemberofthiswedding.“—amightysadthing,”

Alexandrasaid,“butthat’sjustthewaytheyareandtheycan’thelpit.Calpurniawasthebestofthelot.ThatZeeboofhers,thatscamp’sstillinthetrees,butyouknow,Calpurniamadehimmarryeveryoneofhiswomen.

Five,Ithink,butCalpurniamadehimmarryeveryoneof’em.That’sChristianitytothem.”Hestersaid,“Younever

cantellwhatgoesonintheirheads.MySophienow,onedayIaskedher,‘Sophie,’Isaid,‘whatdaydoesChristmascomeonthisyear?’Sophiescratchedthatwoolofhersandsaid,‘MissHester,Ithinksitcomesonthetwenty-fifththisyear.’

Laugh,IthoughtI’ddie.Iwantedtoknowthedayoftheweek,notthedayoftheyear.Thi-ick!”Humor,humor,humor,I

havelostmysenseofhumor.I’mgettin’liketheNewYorkPost.“—butyouknowthey’re

stilldoingit.Stoppin’’emjustmade’emgounderground.Billsayshewouldn’tbesurprisediftherewasanotherNatTurner

Uprisin’,we’resittin’onakegofdynamiteandwejustmightaswellbeready,”Hestersaid.“Ahm,ah—Hester,of

courseIdon’tknowmuchaboutit,butIthoughtthatMontgomerycrowdspentmostoftheirmeetingtimeinchurchpraying,”saidJeanLouise.“Ohmychild,don’tyou

knowthatwasjusttogetsympathyupintheEast?

That’stheoldesttrickknowntomankind.YouknowKaiserBillprayedtoGodeverynightofhislife.”Anabsurdversevibratedin

JeanLouise’smemory.Wherehadshereadit?

ByrightDivine,mydearAugusta,

We’vehadanotherawfulbuster;

TenthousandFrenchmensentbelow.

PraiseGodfromWhomallblessingsflow.

ShewonderedwhereHesterhadpickedupherinformation.ShecouldnotconceiveofHesterSinclair’shavingreadanythingotherthanGoodHousekeepingsaveunderstrongduress.Someonehadtoldher.Who?“Goin’inforhistorythese

days,Hester?”

“What?Oh,Iwasjustsayin’whatmyBillsays.Bill,he’sadeepreader.Hesaystheniggerswhoarerunnin’thethingupnortharetryin’todoitlikeGandhididit,andyouknowwhatthatis.”“I’mafraidIdon’t.Whatis

it?”“Communism.”“Ah—Ithoughtthe

Communistswereallfor

violentoverthrowandthatsortofthing.”Hestershookherhead.

“Where’veyoubeen,JeanLouise?Theyuseanymeanstheycantohelpthemselves.They’rejustliketheCatholics.YouknowhowtheCatholicsgodowntothoseplacesandpracticallygonativethemselvestogetconverts.Why,they’dsaySaintPaulwasaniggerjustlikethemifit’dconvertone

blackman.Billsays—hewasinthewardownthere,youknow—Billsayshecouldn’tfigureoutwhatwasvoo-dooandwhatwasR.C.onsomeofthoseislands,thathewouldn’t’vebeensurprisedifhe’dseenavoo-doomanwithacollaron.It’sthesamewaywiththeCommunists.They’lldoanything,nomatterwhatitis,togetholdofthiscountry.They’reallaroundyou,youcan’ttellwho’soneandwho

isn’t.Why,evenhereinMaycombCounty—”JeanLouiselaughed.“Oh,

Hester,whatwouldtheCommunistswantwithMaycombCounty?”“Idon’tknow,butIdo

knowthere’sacellrightuptheroadinTuscaloosa,andifitweren’tforthoseboysanigger’dbegoin’toclasseswiththerestof’em.”“Idon’tfollowyou,

Hester.”

“Didn’tyoureadaboutthosefancyprofessorsaskingthosequestionsinthat—thatConvocation?Why,they’d’veletherrightin.Ifithadn’tbeenforthosefraternityboys….”“Golly,Hester.I’vebeen

readin’thewrongnewspaper.OneIreadsaidthemobwasfromthattirefactory—”“Whatdoyouread,the

Worker?”

Youarefascinatedwithyourself.Youwillsayanythingthatoccurstoyou,butwhatIcan’tunderstandarethethingsthatdooccurtoyou.Ishouldliketotakeyourheadapart,putafactinit,andwatchitgoitswaythroughtherunnelsofyourbrainuntilitcomesoutofyourmouth.Wewerebothbornhere,wewenttothesameschools,weweretaughtthesamethings.Iwonder

whatyousawandheard.“—everybodyknowsthe

NAACP’sdedicatedtotheoverthrowoftheSouth…”Conceivedinmistrust,and

dedicatedtothepropositionthatallmenarecreatedevil.“—theymakenobones

aboutsayingtheywanttodoawaywiththeNegrorace,andtheywillinfourgenerations,Billsays,iftheystartwiththisone…”

Ihopetheworldwilllittlenotenorlongrememberwhatyouaresayinghere.“—andanybodywho

thinksdifferent’seitheraCommunistormightaswellbeone.Passiveresistance,myhindfoot…”Wheninthecourseof

humaneventsitbecomesnecessaryforonepeopletodissolvethepoliticalbandswhichhaveconnectedthem

withanothertheyareCommunists.“—theyalwayswantto

marryashadelighterthanthemselves,theywanttomongrelizetherace—”JeanLouiseinterrupted.

“Hester,letmeaskyousomething.I’vebeenhomesinceSaturdaynow,andsinceSaturdayI’veheardagreatdealoftalkaboutmongrelizin’therace,andit’sledmetowonderifthat’snot

ratheranunfortunatephrase,andifprobablyitshouldbediscardedfromSouthernjargonthesedays.Ittakestworacestomongrelizearace—ifthat’stherightword—andwhenwewhitepeopleholleraboutmongrelizin’,isn’tthatsomethingofareflectiononourselvesasarace?ThemessageIgetfromitisthatifitwerelawful,there’dbeawholesalerushtomarryNegroes.IfIwerea

scholar,whichIain’t,Iwouldsaythatkindoftalkhasadeeppsychologicalsignificancethat’snotparticularlyflatteringtotheonewhotalksit.Atitsbest,itdenotesanalarmin’mistrustofone’sownrace.”HesterlookedatJean

Louise.“I’msureIdon’tknowwhatyoumean,”shesaid.“I’mnotsureofwhatI

mean,either,”saidJean

Louise,“exceptthehaircurlsonmyheadeverytimeIheartalklikethat.IguessitwasbecauseIwasn’tbroughtuphearingit.”Hesterbristled:“Areyou

insinuating—”“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.Theywanttogetthe

niggersmarriedtothatclassandkeeponuntilthewholesocialpattern’sdoneawaywith.”Socialpattern.Double

WeddingRingquilts.Shecouldnothavehatedus,andAtticuscannotbelievethiskindoftalk.I’msorry,it’simpossible.SinceyesterdayIfeellikeI’mbeingwaddeddownintothebottomofadeep,deep

“WELL,HOW’SNEWYORK?”NewYork.NewYork?I’ll

tellyouhowNewYorkis.NewYorkhasalltheanswers.PeoplegototheYMHA,theEnglish-SpeakingUnion,CarnegieHall,theNewSchoolforSocialResearch,andfindtheanswers.Thecitylivesbyslogans,isms,andfastsureanswers.NewYorkissayingtomerightnow:you,Jean

LouiseFinch,arenotreactingaccordingtoourdoctrinesregardingyourkind,thereforeyoudonotexist.Thebestmindsinthecountryhavetolduswhoyouare.Youcan’tescapeit,andwedon’tblameyouforit,butwedoaskyoutoconductyourselfwithintherulesthatthosewhoknowhavelaiddownforyourbehavior,anddon’ttrytobeanythingelse.

Sheanswered:pleasebelieveme,whathashappenedinmyfamilyisnotwhatyouthink.Icansayonlythis—thateverythingIlearnedabouthumandecencyIlearnedhere.Ilearnednothingfromyouexcepthowtobesuspicious.Ididn’tknowwhathatewasuntilIlivedamongyouandsawyouhatingeveryday.Theyevenhadtopasslawstokeepyoufromhating.Idespiseyour

quickanswers,yourslogansinthesubways,andmostofallIdespiseyourlackofgoodmanners:you’llneverhave’emaslongasyouexist.Themanwhocouldnotbe

discourteoustoaground-squirrelhadsatinthecourthouseabettingthecauseofgrubby-mindedlittlemen.ManytimesshehadseenhiminthegrocerystorewaitinghisturninlinebehindNegroesandGodknows

what.ShehadseenMr.Fredraisehiseyebrowsathim,andherfathershakehisheadinreply.Hewasthekindofmanwhoinstinctivelywaitedhisturn;hehadmanners.Looksister,weknowthe

facts:youspentthefirsttwenty-oneyearsofyourlifeinthelynchingcountry,inacountywhosepopulationistwo-thirdsagriculturalNegro.Sodroptheact.

Youwillnotbelieveme,butIwilltellyou:neverinmylifeuntiltodaydidIheartheword“nigger”spokenbyamemberofmyfamily.NeverdidIlearntothinkintermsofTheNiggers.WhenIgrewup,andIdidgrowupwithblackpeople,theywereCalpurnia,Zeebothegarbagecollector,Tomtheyardman,andwhateverelsetheirnameswere.TherewerehundredsofNegroessurroundingme,

theywerehandsinthefields,whochoppedthecotton,whoworkedtheroads,whosawedthelumbertomakeourhouses.Theywerepoor,theywerediseasedanddirty,somewerelazyandshiftless,butneverinmylifewasIgiventheideathatIshoulddespiseone,shouldfearone,shouldbediscourteoustoone,orthinkthatIcouldmistreatoneandgetawaywithit.Theyasapeopledidnotentermy

world,nordidIentertheirs:whenIwenthuntingIdidnottrespassonaNegro’sland,notbecauseitwasaNegro’s,butbecauseIwasnotsupposedtotrespassonanybody’sland.Iwastaughtnevertotakeadvantageofanybodywhowaslessfortunatethanmyself,whetherhebelessfortunateinbrains,wealth,orsocialposition;itmeantanybody,notjustNegroes.Iwasgiven

tounderstandthatthereversewastobedespised.ThatisthewayIwasraised,byablackwomanandawhiteman.Youmusthavelivedit.Ifa

mansaystoyou,“Thisisthetruth,”andyoubelievehim,andyoudiscoverwhathesaysisnotthetruth,youaredisappointedandyoumakesureyouwillnotbecaughtoutbyhimagain.

Butamanwhohaslivedbytruth—andyouhavebelievedinwhathehaslived—hedoesnotleaveyoumerelywarywhenhefailsyou,heleavesyouwithnothing.IthinkthatiswhyI’mnearlyoutofmymind….“NewYork?It’llalwaysbe

there.”JeanLouiseturnedtoherinquisitor,ayoungwomanwithasmallhat,smallfeatures,andsmall

sharpteeth.ShewasClaudineMcDowell.“FletcherandIwereup

therelastspringandwetriedtogetyoudayandnight.”I’llbetyoudid.“Didyou

enjoyit?No,don’ttellme,letmetellyou:youhadamarveloustimebutyouwouldn’tdreamoflivingthere.”Claudineshowedher

mouse-teeth.“Absolutely!How’dyouguessthat?”

“I’mpsychic.Didyoudothetown?”“Lordyes.Wewenttothe

LatinQuarter,theCopacabana,andThePajamaGame.Thatwasthefirststageshowwe’deverseenandwewererightdisappointedinit.Aretheyalllikethat?”“Mostof’em.Didyougo

tothetopoftheyou-know-what?”

“No,butwedidgothroughRadioCity.Youknow,peoplecouldliveinthatplace.WesawastageshowatRadioCityMusicHall,andJeanLouise,ahorsecameoutonthestage.”JeanLouisesaidshe

wasn’tsurprised.“FletcherandIsurelywere

gladtogetbackhome.Idon’tseehowyoulivethere.Fletcherspentmoremoneyupthereintwoweeksthan

wespendinsixmonthsdownhere.Fletchersaidhecouldn’tseewhyonearthpeoplelivedinthatplacewhentheycouldhaveahouseandayardforfarlessdownhere.”Icantellyou.InNewYork

youareyourownperson.YoumayreachoutandembraceallofManhattaninsweetaloneness,oryoucangotohellifyouwantto.

“Well,”saidJeanLouise,“ittakesconsiderablegettingusedto.Ihateditfortwoyears.ItintimidatedmedailyuntilonemorningwhensomeonepushedmeonabusandIpushedback.AfterIpushedbackIrealizedI’dbecomeapartofit.”“Pushing,that’swhatthey

are.Theyhavenomannersupthere,”saidClaudine.“Theyhavemanners,

Claudine.They’rejust

differentfromours.Thepersonwhopushedmeonthebusexpectedtobepushedback.That’swhatIwassupposedtodo;it’sjustagame.Youwon’tfindbetterpeoplethaninNewYork.”Claudinepursedherlips.

“Well,Iwouldn’twanttogetmixedupwithallthoseItaliansandPuertoRicans.InadrugstoreonedayIlookedaroundandtherewasaNegrowomaneatingherdinner

rightnexttome,rightnexttome.OfcourseIknewshecould,butitdidgivemeashock.”“Didshehurtyouinany

way?”“Reckonshedidn’t.Igot

uprealquickandleft.”“Youknow,”saidJean

Louisegently,“theygoaroundlooseupthere,allkindsoffolks.”Claudinehunchedher

shoulders.“Idon’tseehow

youliveuptherewiththem.”“Youaren’tawareofthem.

Youworkwiththem,eatbyandwiththem,ridethebuseswiththem,andyouaren’tawareofthemunlessyouwanttobe.Idon’tknowthatagreatbigfatNegroman’sbeensittingbesidemeonabusuntilIgetuptoleave.Youjustdon’tnoticeit.”“Well,Icertainlynoticed

it.Youmustbeblindorsomething.”

Blind,that’swhatIam.Ineveropenedmyeyes.Ineverthoughttolookintopeople’shearts,Ilookedonlyintheirfaces.Stoneblind…Mr.Stone.Mr.Stonesetawatchmaninchurchyesterday.Heshouldhaveprovidedmewithone.Ineedawatchmantoleadmearoundanddeclarewhatheseetheveryhouronthehour.Ineedawatchmantotellmethisiswhatamansaysbut

thisiswhathemeans,todrawalinedownthemiddleandsayhereisthisjusticeandthereisthatjusticeandmakemeunderstandthedifference.Ineedawatchmantogoforthandproclaimtothemallthattwenty-sixyearsistoolongtoplayajokeonanybody,nomatterhowfunnyitis.

14

“AUNTY,”SAIDJEANLouise,whentheyhadclearedawaytherubbleofthemorning’sdevastation,“ifyoudon’twantthecarI’mgoingaroundtoUncleJack’s.”“AllIwant’sanap.Don’t

youwantsomedinner?”“Noma’am.UncleJack’ll

givemeasandwichor

something.”“Betternotcountonit.He

eatslessandlessthesedays.”ShestoppedthecarinDr.

Finch’sdriveway,climbedthehighfrontstepstohishouse,knockedonthedoor,andwentin,singinginaraucousvoice:

“OldUncleJackwithhiscaneandhiscrutch

Whenhewasyoungheboogie-woogiedtoo

much;Putthesalestaxonit—”

Dr.Finch’shousewassmall,butthefronthallwaywasenormous.Atonetimeitwasadog-trothall,butDr.Finchhadsealeditinandbuiltbookshelvesaroundthewalls.Hecalledfromtherearof

thehouse,“Iheardthat,youvulgargirl.I’minthekitchen.”

Shewalkeddownthehall,throughadoor,andcametowhatwasonceanopenbackporch.Itwasnowsomethingfaintlylikeastudy,asweremostoftheroomsinhishouse.Shehadneverseenashelterthatreflectedsostronglythepersonalityofitsowner.Aneeriequalityofuntidinessprevailedamidorder:Dr.Finchkepthishousemilitarilyspotless,butbookstendedtopileup

whereverhesatdown,andbecauseitwashishabittositdownanywherehegotready,thereweresmallstacksofbooksinoddplacesaboutthehousethatwereaconstantcursetohiscleaningwoman.Hewouldnotlethertouchthem,andheinsistedonapple-pieneatness,sothepoorcreaturewasobligedtovacuum,dust,andpolisharoundthem.Oneunfortunatemaidlostherheadandlost

hisplaceinTuckwell’sPre-TractarianOxford,andDr.Finchshookabroomather.Whenheruncleappeared,

JeanLouisethoughtstylesmaycomeandstylesmaygo,butheandAtticuswillclingtotheirvestsforever.Dr.Finchwascoatless,andinhisarmswasRoseAylmer,hisoldcat.“Wherewereyou

yesterday,intheriveragain?”

Helookedathersharply.“Stickoutyourtongue.”JeanLouisestuckouther

tongue,andDr.FinchshiftedRoseAylmertothecrookofhisrightelbow,fishedinhisvestpocket,broughtoutapairofhalf-glasses,flickedthemopen,andclappedthemtohisface.“Well,don’tleaveitthere.

Putitback,”hesaid.“Youlooklikehell.Comeontothekitchen.”

“Ididn’tknowyouhadhalf-glasses,UncleJack,”saidJeanLouise.“Hah—IdiscoveredIwas

wastingmoney.”“How?”“Lookingovermyold

ones.Thesecosthalfasmuch.”Atablestoodinthecenter

ofDr.Finch’skitchen,andonthetablewasasaucercontainingacrackerupon

whichrestedasolitarysardine.JeanLouisegaped.“Isthat

yourdinner?Honestly,UncleJack,canyoupossiblygetanyweirder?”Dr.Finchdrewahighstool

tothetable,depositedRoseAylmeruponit,andsaid,“No.Yes.”JeanLouiseandheruncle

satdownatthetable.Dr.Finchpickedupthecrackerandsardineandpresented

themtoRoseAylmer.RoseAylmertookasmallbite,putherheaddown,andchewed.“Sheeatslikeahuman,”

saidJeanLouise.“IhopeI’vetaughther

manners,”saidDr.Finch.“She’ssooldnowIhavetofeedherbitbybit.”“Whydon’tyouputherto

sleep?”Dr.Finchlooked

indignantlyathisniece.“WhyshouldI?What’sthe

matterwithher?She’sgotagoodtenyearsyet.”JeanLouisesilentlyagreed

andwished,comparativelyspeaking,thatshewouldlookasgoodasRoseAylmerwhenshewasasold.RoseAylmer’syellowcoatwasinexcellentrepair;shestillhadherfigure;hereyeswerebright.Shesleptmostofherlifenow,andonceadayDr.Finchwalkedheraroundthebackyardonaleash.

Dr.Finchpatientlypersuadedtheoldcattofinishherlunch,andwhenshehaddonesohewenttoacabinetoverthesinkandtookoutabottle.Itscapwasamedicinedropper.Hedrewupamightyportionofthefluid,setthebottledown,caughtthebackofthecat’shead,andtoldRoseAylmertoopenhermouth.Thecatobeyed.Shegulpedandshookherhead.Dr.Finchdrewmorefluid

intothedropperandsaid,“Openyourmouth,”toJeanLouise.JeanLouisegulpedand

spluttered.“DearLord,whatwasthat?”“VitaminC.Iwantyouto

letAllenhavealookatyou.”JeanLouisesaidshe

would,andaskedherunclewhatwasonhismindthesedays.Dr.Finch,stoopingatthe

oven,said,“Sibthorp.”

“Sir?”Dr.Finchtookfromthe

ovenawoodensaladbowlfilled,toJeanLouise’samazement,withgreens.Ihopeitwasn’ton.“Sibthorp,girl.Sibthorp,”

hesaid.“RichardWaldoSibthorp.RomanCatholicpriest.BuriedwithfullChurchofEnglandceremonials.Tryin’tofindanotheronelikehim.Highlysignificant.”

JeanLouisewasaccustomedtoheruncle’sbrandofintellectualshorthand:itwashiscustomtostateoneortwoisolatedfacts,andaconclusionseeminglyunsupportedthereby.Slowlyandsurely,ifproddedcorrectly,Dr.Finchwouldunwindthereelofhisstrangeloretorevealreasoningthatglitteredwithaprivatelightofitsown.

ButshewasnottheretobeentertainedwiththevacillationsofaminorVictorianesthete.Shewatchedherunclemaneuversaladgreens,oliveoil,vinegar,andseveralingredientsunknowntoherwiththesameprecisionandassurancesheemployedonadifficultosteotomy.Hedividedthesaladintotwoplatesandsaid,“Eat,child.”

Dr.Finchchewedferociouslyonhislunchandeyedhisniece,whowasarranginglettuce,hunksofavocado,greenpepper,andonionsinaneatrowonherplate.“Allright,what’sthematter?Areyoupregnant?”“Graciousno,UncleJack.”“That’sabouttheonly

thingIcanthinkofthatworriesyoungwomenthesedays.Doyouwanttotell

me?”Hisvoicesoftened.“Comeon,oldScout.”JeanLouise’seyesblurred

withtears.“What’sbeenhappening,UncleJack?WhatisthematterwithAtticus?IthinkHankandAuntyhavelosttheirmindsandIknowI’mlosingmine.”“Ihaven’tnoticedanything

thematterwiththem.ShouldI?”“Youshouldhaveseen

themsittinginthatmeeting

yesterday—”JeanLouiselookedupat

heruncle,whowasbalancinghimselfdangerouslyonthebacklegsofhischair.Heputhishandsonthetabletosteadyhimself,hisincisivefeaturesmelted,hiseyebrowsshotup,helaughedloudly.Thefrontlegsofhischaircamedownwithabang,andhesubsidedintochuckles.JeanLouiseraged.Shegot

upfromthetable,tippedover

herchair,restoredit,andwalkedtothedoor.“Ididn’tcomeheretobemadefunof,UncleJack,”shesaid.“Ohsitdownandshutup,”

saidheruncle.Helookedatherwithgenuineinterest,asifsheweresomethingunderamicroscope,asthoughsheweresomemedicalmarvelthathadinadvertentlymaterializedinhiskitchen.“AsIsithereandbreathe,I

neverthoughtthegoodGod

wouldletmelivetoseesomeonewalkintothemiddleofarevolution,pullalugubriousface,andsay,‘What’sthematter?’”Helaughedagain,shakinghishead.“Matter,child?I’lltellyou

what’sthematterifyoucollectyourselfandrefrainfromcarryingonlike—arum!—Iwonderifyoureyesandearsevermakeanythingsavespasmodiccontactwithyour

brain.”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,“Ohdear.Ohdearme,yes.Thenovelmusttellastory.”

“Whatdoyoumeanbythat?”shesaid.Sheknewhewasquotingatherbutshedidn’tknowwhat,shedidn’tknowwhy,andshedidn’tcare.Herunclecouldannoythehelloutofherwhenhechose,apparentlyhewaschoosingtodosonow,andsheresentedit.“Nothing.”Hesatdown,

tookoffhisglasses,andreturnedthemtohisvestpocket.Hespoke

deliberately.“Baby,”hesaid,“allovertheSouthyourfatherandmenlikeyourfatherarefightingasortofrearguard,delayingactiontopreserveacertainkindofphilosophythat’salmostgonedownthedrain—”“Ifit’swhatIheard

yesterdayIsaygoodriddance.”Dr.Finchlookedup.

“You’remakingabadmistakeifyouthinkyour

daddy’sdedicatedtokeepingtheNegroesintheirplaces.”JeanLouiseraisedher

handsandhervoice:“WhatthehellamItothink?Itmademesick,UncleJack.Plain-outsick—”Herunclescratchedhisear.

“Younodoubt,somewherealongtheline,havehadcertainhistoricalfactsandnuancesplacedinfrontofyou—”

“UncleJack,don’thandmethatkindoftalknow—fightin’theWarhasnothingtodowithit.”“Onthecontrary,ithasa

greatdealtodowithitifyouwanttounderstand.Thefirstthingyoumustrealizeissomething—Godhelpus,itwassomething—thatthree-fourthsofanationhavefailedtothisdaytounderstand.Whatkindofpeoplewerewe,JeanLouise?Whatkindof

peoplearewe?Whoarewestillclosesttointhisworld?”“Ithoughtwewerejust

people.Ihavenoidea.”Herunclesmiled,andan

unholylightappearedinhiseyes.He’sgonnaskateoffnow,shethought.Icannevercatchhimandbringhimback.“ConsiderMaycomb

County,”saidDr.Finch.“It’stypicalSouth.Hasitneverstruckyouasbeingsingular

thatnearlyeverybodyinthecountyiseitherkinoralmostkintoeverybodyelse?”“UncleJack,howcan

someonebealmostkintosomeoneelse?”“Quitesimple.You

rememberFrankBuckland,don’tyou?”Inspiteofherself,Jean

LouisefeltshewasbeingluredslowlyandstealthilyintoDr.Finch’sweb.Heisawonderfuloldspider,but

neverthelessheisaspider.Sheinchedtowardhim:“FrankBuckland?”“Thenaturalist.Carried

deadfisharoundinhissuitcaseandkeptajackalinhisrooms.”“Yessir?”“YourememberMatthew

Arnold,don’tyou?”Shesaidshedid.“Well,FrankBuckland

wasMatthewArnold’sfather’ssister’shusband’s

brother’sson,therefore,theywerealmostkin.See?”“Yessir,but—”Dr.Finchlookedatthe

ceiling.“Wasn’tmynephewJem,”hesaidslowly,“engagedtomarryhisgreat-uncle’sson’swife’ssecondcousin?”Sheputherhandsoverher

eyesandthoughtfuriously.“Hewas,”shefinallysaid.“UncleJack,Ithinkyou’ve

madeanonsequiturbutI’mnotatallpositive.”“Allthesamething,

really.”“ButIdon’tgetthe

connection.”Dr.Finchputhishandson

thetable.“That’sbecauseyouhaven’tlooked,”hesaid.“You’veneveropenedyoureyes.”JeanLouisejumped.Herunclesaid,“Jean

Louise,therearetothisday

inMaycombCountythelivingcounterpartsofeverybutt-headedCelt,Angle,andSaxonwhoeverdrewabreath.YourememberDeanStanley,don’tyou?”Theywerecomingbackto

her,thedaysoftheendlesshours.Shewasinthishouse,infrontofawarmfire,beingreadtofrommustybooks.Heruncle’svoicewasitsusuallowgrowl,orpitchedhighwithhelplesslaughter.

Theabsentminded,fluff-hairedlittleclergymanandhisstalwartwifedriftedintohermemory.“Doesn’theremindyouof

FinkSewell?”“Nosir,”shesaid.“Think,girl.Think.Since

youarenotthinking,I’llgiveyouahint.WhenStanleywasDeanofWestminsterhedugupnearlyeverybodyintheAbbeylookingforJamestheFirst.”

“OhmyGod,”shesaid.DuringtheDepression,Mr.

FinckneySewell,aMaycombresidentlongnotedforhisindependenceofmind,disentombedhisowngrandfatherandextractedallhisgoldteethtopayoffamortgage.Whenthesheriffapprehendedhimforgrave-robberyandgold-hoarding,Mr.Finkdemurredonthetheorythatifhisowngrandfatherwasn’this,whose

washe?ThesheriffsaidoldMr.M.F.Sewellwasinthepublicdomain,butMr.Finksaidtestilyhesupposeditwashiscemeterylot,hisgranddaddy,andhisteeth,anddeclinedforthwithtobearrested.PublicopinioninMaycombwaswithhim:Mr.Finkwasanhonorableman,hewastryinghisbesttopayhisdebts,andthelawmolestedhimnofurther.

“Stanleyhadthehighesthistoricalmotivesforhisexcavations,”musedDr.Finch,“buttheirmindsworkedexactlyalike.Youcan’tdenyheinvitedeveryheretichecouldlayhandsontopreachintheAbbey.IbelieveheoncegavecommuniontoMrs.AnnieBesant.YourememberhowhesupportedBishopColenso.”

Sheremembered.BishopColenso,whoseviewsoneverythingwereconsideredunsoundthatdayandarearchaicinthis,wasthelittledean’sparticularpet.Colensowastheobjectofacrimoniousdebatewherevertheclergygathered,andStanleyoncemadearingingConvocationspeechinhisdefense,askingthatbodywasitawarethatColensowastheonlycolonialbishopwhohadbotheredto

translatetheBibleintoZulu,whichwasrathermorethantheresthaddone.“Finkwasjustlikehim,”

saidDr.Finch.“HesubscribedtotheWallStreetJournalinthedepthsoftheDepressionanddaredanybodytosayawordaboutit.”Dr.Finchchuckled.“JakeJeddoatthepostofficenearlyhadaspasmeverytimeheputthemailup.”

JeanLouisestaredatheruncle.Shesatinhiskitchen,inthemiddleoftheAtomicAge,andinthedeepestrecessesofherconsciousnesssheknewthatDr.Finchwasoutrageouslycorrectinhiscomparisons.“—justlikehim,”Dr.

Finchwassaying,“ortakeHarrietMartineau—”JeanLouisefoundherself

treadingwaterintheLake

District.Sheflounderedtokeepherheadup.“DoyourememberMrs.E.

C.B.Franklin?”Shedid.Shegroped

throughtheyearsforMissMartineau,butMrs.E.C.B.waseasy:sherememberedacrochetedtam,acrocheteddressthroughwhichpeepedpinkcrocheteddrawers,andcrochetedstockings.EverySaturdayMrs.E.C.B.walkedthreemilestotownfromher

farm,whichwascalledCapeJessamineCopse.Mrs.E.C.B.wrotepoetry.Dr.Finchsaid,“Remember

theminorwomenpoets?”“Yessir,”shesaid.“Well?”Whenshewasachildshe

haddeviledforawhileattheMaycombTribuneofficeandhadwitnessedseveralaltercations,includingthelast,betweenMrs.E.C.B.andMr.Underwood.Mr.

Underwoodwasanold-timeprinterandstoodfornononsense.HeworkedalldayatavastblackLinotype,refreshinghimselfatintervalsfromagallonjugcontainingharmlesscherrywine.OneSaturdayMrs.E.C.B.stalkedintotheofficewithaneffusionMr.UnderwoodsaidherefusedtodisgracetheTribunewith:itwasacowobituaryinverse,beginning:

OkinenolongermineWiththosebigbrowneyesofthine….

andcontaininggravebreachesofChristianphilosophy.Mr.Underwoodsaid,“Cowsdon’tgotoheaven,”towhichMrs.E.C.B.replied,“Thisonedid,”andexplainedpoeticlicense.Mr.Underwood,whoinhistimehadpublishedmemorialversesof

indeterminatevariety,saidhestillcouldn’tprintthisbecauseitwasblasphemousanddidn’tscan.Furious,Mrs.E.C.B.unlockedaframeandscatteredtheBiggsStoreadallovertheoffice.Mr.Underwoodinhaledlikeawhale,drankanenormousslugofcherrywineinherface,swalloweditdown,andcursedherallthewaytothecourthousesquare.Afterthat,Mrs.E.C.B.composedverse

forherprivateedification.Thecountyfelttheloss.“Nowareyouwillingto

concedethatthereissomefaintconnection,notnecessarilybetweentwoeccentrics,butwitha—um—generalturnofmindthatexistsinsomequartersacrossthewater?”JeanLouisethrewinthe

towel.Dr.Finchsaidmoreto

himselfthantohisniece,“In

the1770swheredidthewhite-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!Youarenotsofar

corruptedasIthought,ifyoustillrememberCarolineLamb,poorthing.You’ve

almostgotit,butnotquite:itwasmainlyanagriculturalsociety,withahandfuloflandownersandmultitudesoftenants.Now,whatwastheSouthbeforetheWar?”“Anagriculturalsociety

withahandfuloflargelandowners,multitudesofdirtfarmers,andslaves.”“Correct.Leavetheslaves

outofitforawhile,andwhatdoyouhave?YourWadeHamptonsbythescores,and

yoursmalllandownersandtenantsbythethousands.TheSouthwasalittleEnglandinitsheritageandsocialstructure.Now,whatistheonethingthathasbeatintheheartofeveryAnglo-Saxon—don’tcringe,Iknowit’sadirtywordthesedays—nomatterwhathisconditionorstatusinlife,nomatterwhatthebarriersofignorance,sincehestoppedpaintinghimselfblue?”

“Heisproud.He’ssortofstubborn.”“You’redamnright.What

else?”“I—Idon’tknow.”“Whatwasitthatmadethe

ragtaglittleConfederateArmythelastofitskind?Whatmadeitsoweak,butsopowerfulitworkedmiracles?”“Ah—RobertE.Lee?”“GoodGod,girl!”shouted

heruncle.“Itwasanarmyof

individuals!TheywalkedofftheirfarmsandwalkedtotheWar!”Asiftostudyarare

specimen,Dr.Finchproducedhisglasses,putthemon,tiltedhisheadback,andlookedather.“Nomachine,”hesaid,“whenit’sbeencrushedtopowder,putsitselftogetheragainandticks,butthosedrybonesroseupandmarchedandhowtheymarched.Why?”

“Ireckonitwastheslavesandtariffsandthings.Ineverthoughtaboutitmuch.”Dr.Finchsaidsoftly,

“JehovahGod.”Hemadeavisibleeffortto

masterhistemperbygoingtothestoveandsilencingthecoffeepot.Hepouredouttwocupsofblisteringblackbrewandbroughtthemtothetable.“JeanLouise,”hesaid

dryly,“notmuchmorethanfivepercentoftheSouth’s

populationeversawaslave,muchlessownedone.Now,somethingmusthaveirritatedtheotherninety-fivepercent.”JeanLouiselookedblankly

atheruncle.“Hasitneveroccurredto

you—haveyounever,somewherealongtheline,receivedvibrationstotheeffect—thatthisterritorywasaseparatenation?Nomatterwhatitspoliticalbonds,a

nationwithitsownpeople,existingwithinanation?Asocietyhighlyparadoxical,withalarminginequities,butwiththeprivatehonorofthousandsofpersonswinkinglikelightningbugsthroughthenight?Nowarwaseverfoughtforsomanydifferentreasonsmeetinginonereasonclearascrystal.Theyfoughttopreservetheiridentity.Theirpoliticalidentity,theirpersonalidentity.”

Dr.Finch’svoicesoftened.“Itseemsquixotictoday,withjetairplanesandoverdosesofNembutal,thatamanwouldgothroughawarforsomethingsoinsignificantashisstate.”Heblinked.“No,Scout,

thoseraggedignorantpeoplefoughtuntiltheywerenearlyexterminatedtomaintainsomethingthatthesedaysseemstobethesoleprivilegeofartistsandmusicians.”

Asitrolledby,JeanLouisemadeafranticdiveforheruncle’strolley:“That’sbeenoverfora—nearlyahundredyears,sir.”Dr.Finchgrinned.“Hasit

really?Itdependshowyoulookatit.IfyouweresittingonthesidewalkinParis,you’dsaycertainly.Butlookagain.Theremnantsofthatlittlearmyhadchildren—God,howtheymultiplied—theSouthwentthroughthe

Reconstructionwithonlyonepermanentpoliticalchange:therewasnomoreslavery.Thepeoplebecamenolessthanwhattheyweretobeginwith—insomecasestheybecamehorrifyinglymore.Theywereneverdestroyed.Theyweregroundintothedirtanduptheypopped.UppoppedTobaccoRoad,anduppoppedtheugliest,mostshamefulaspectofitall—thebreedofwhitemanwholived

inopeneconomiccompetitionwithfreedNegroes.“Foryearsandyearsall

thatmanthoughthehadthatmadehimanybetterthanhisblackbrotherswasthecolorofhisskin.Hewasjustasdirty,hesmelledjustasbad,hewasjustaspoor.Nowadayshe’sgotmorethanheeverhadinhislife,hehaseverythingbutbreeding,he’sfreedhimselffromevery

stigma,buthesitsnursinghishangoverofhatred….”Dr.Finchgotupand

pouredmorecoffee.JeanLouisewatchedhim.GoodLord,shethought,myowngrandfatherfoughtinit.HisandAtticus’sdaddy.Hewasonlyachild.HesawthecorpsesstackedandwatchedthebloodruninlittlestreamsdownShiloh’shill….“Nowthen,Scout,”said

heruncle.“Now,atthisvery

minute,apoliticalphilosophyforeigntoitisbeingpressedontheSouth,andtheSouth’snotreadyforit—we’refindingourselvesinthesamedeepwaters.Assureastime,historyisrepeatingitself,andassureasmanisman,historyisthelastplacehe’lllookforhislessons.IhopetoGodit’llbeacomparativelybloodlessReconstructionthistime.”“Idon’tunderstand.”

“Lookattherestofthecountry.It’slongsincegonebytheSouthinitsthinking.Thetime-honored,common-lawconceptofproperty—aman’sinterestinanddutiestothatproperty—hasbecomealmostextinct.People’sattitudestowardthedutiesofagovernmenthavechanged.Thehave-notshaverisenandhavedemandedandreceivedtheirdue—sometimesmorethantheirdue.Thehavesare

restrictedfromgettingmore.Youareprotectedfromthewinterwindsofoldage,notbyyourselfvoluntarily,butbyagovernmentthatsayswedonottrustyoutoprovideforyourself,thereforewewillmakeyousave.Allkindsofstrangelittlethingslikethathavebecomepartandparcelofthiscountry’sgovernment.America’sabravenewAtomicworldandtheSouth’sjustbeginningitsIndustrial

Revolution.Haveyoulookedaroundyouinthepastsevenoreightyearsandseenanewclassofpeopledownhere?”“Newclass?”“Goodgrief,child.Where

areyourtenantfarmers?Infactories.Whereareyourfieldhands?Sameplace.Haveyouevernoticedwhoareinthoselittlewhitehousesontheothersideoftown?Maycomb’snewclass.Thesameboysandgirlswho

wenttoschoolwithyouandgrewupontinyfarms.Yourowngeneration.”Dr.Finchpulledhisnose.

“ThosepeoplearetheapplesoftheFederalGovernment’seye.Itlendsthemmoneytobuildtheirhouses,itgivesthemafreeeducationforservinginitsarmies,itprovidesfortheiroldageandassuresthemofseveralweeks’supportiftheylosetheirjobs—”

“UncleJack,youareacynicaloldman.”“Cynical,hell.I’ma

healthyoldmanwithaconstitutionalmistrustofpaternalismandgovernmentinlargedoses.Yourfather’sthesame—”“Ifyoutellmethatpower

tendstocorruptandabsolutepowercorruptsabsolutelyIwillthrowthiscoffeeatyou.”“TheonlythingI’mafraid

ofaboutthiscountryisthat

itsgovernmentwillsomedaybecomesomonstrousthatthesmallestpersoninitwillbetrampledunderfoot,andthenitwouldn’tbeworthlivingin.TheonlythinginAmericathatisstilluniqueinthistiredworldisthatamancangoasfarashisbrainswilltakehimorhecangotohellifhewantsto,butitwon’tbethatwaymuchlonger.”Dr.Finchgrinnedlikea

friendlyweasel.“Melbourne

saidonce,thattheonlyrealdutiesofgovernmentweretopreventcrimeandpreservecontracts,towhichIwilladdonethingsinceIfindmyselfreluctantlyinthetwentiethcentury:andtoprovideforthecommondefense.”“That’sacloudy

statement.”“Indeeditis.Itleavesus

withsomuchfreedom.”JeanLouiseputherelbows

onthetableandranher

fingersthroughherhair.Somethingwasthematterwithhim.Hewasdeliberatelymakingsomeeloquentunspokenpleatoher,hewasdeliberatelykeepingoffthesubject.Hewasoversimplifyinghere,skitteringoffthere,dodgingandfeinting.Shewonderedwhy.Itwassoeasytolistentohim,tobelulledbyhisgentlerainofwords,thatshedidnotmisstheabsenceof

hispurposefulgestures,theshowerof“hum”sand“hah”sthatpepperedhisusualconversation.Shedidnotknowhewasdeeplyworried.“UncleJack,”shesaid.

“What’sthisgottodowiththepriceofeggsinChina,andyouknowexactlywhatImean.”“Ho,”hesaid.Hischeeks

becamerosy.“Gettin’smart,aren’tyou?”

“SmartenoughtoknowthatrelationsbetweentheNegroesandwhitepeopleareworsethanI’veeverseentheminmylife—bytheway,younevermentionedthemonce—smartenoughtowanttoknowwhatmakesyoursaintedsisteractthewayshedoes,smartenoughtowanttoknowwhatthehellhashappenedtomyfather.”Dr.Finchclenchedhis

handsandtuckedthemunder

hischin.“Humanbirthismostunpleasant.It’smessy,it’sextremelypainful,sometimesit’sariskything.Itisalwaysbloody.Soisitwithcivilization.TheSouth’sinitslastagonizingbirthpain.It’sbringingforthsomethingnewandI’mnotsureIlikeit,butIwon’tbeheretoseeit.Youwill.Menlikemeandmybrotherareobsoleteandwe’vegottogo,butit’sapitywe’llcarrywith

usthemeaningfulthingsofthissociety—thereweresomegoodthingsinit.”“Stopwoolgatheringand

answerme!”Dr.Finchstoodup,leaned

onthetable,andlookedather.Thelinesfromhisnosesprangtohismouthandmadeaharshtrapezoid.Hiseyesblazed,buthisvoicewasstillquiet:“JeanLouise,whena

man’slookingdownthe

doublebarrelofashotgun,hepicksupthefirstweaponhecanfindtodefendhimself,beitastoneorastickofstovewoodoracitizens’council.”“Thatisnoanswer!”Dr.Finchshuthiseyes,

openedthem,andlookeddownatthetable.“You’vebeengivingme

somekindofelaboraterunaround,UncleJack,andI’veneverknownyoutodoit

before.You’vealwaysgivenmeastraightanswertoanythingIeveraskedyou.Whywon’tyounow?”“BecauseIcannot.Itis

neitherwithinmypowernormyprovincetodoso.”“I’veneverheardyoutalk

likethis.”Dr.Finchopenedhis

mouthandclampeditshutagain.Hetookherbythearm,ledherintothenext

room,andstoppedinfrontofthegilt-framedmirror.“Lookatyou,”hesaid.Shelooked.“Whatdoyousee?”“Myself,andyou.”She

turnedtowardheruncle’sreflection.“Youknow,UncleJack,you’rehandsomeinahorriblesortofway.”Shesawthelasthundred

yearspossessheruncleforaninstant.Hemadeacrossbetweenabowandanod,

said,“That’skindofyou,ma’am,”stoodbehindher,andgrippedhershoulders.“Lookatyou,”hesaid.“Icanonlytellyouthismuch.Lookatyoureyes.Lookatyournose.Lookatyourchin.Whatdoyousee?”“Iseemyself.”“Iseetwopeople.”“Youmeanthetomboyand

thewoman?”ShesawDr.Finch’s

reflectionshakeitshead.

“No-o,child.That’sthereallright,butit’snotwhatImean.”“UncleJack,Idon’tknow

whyyouelecttodisappearintothemist….”Dr.Finchscratchedhis

headandatuftofgrayhairstoodup.“I’msorry,”hesaid.“Goahead.Goaheadanddowhatyou’regoingtodo.Ican’tstopyouandImustn’tstopyou,ChildeRoland.Butit’ssucha

messy,riskything.Suchabloodybusiness—”“UncleJack,sweetie,

you’renotwithus.”Dr.Finchfacedherand

heldheratarm’slength.“JeanLouise,Iwantyoutolistencarefully.Whatwe’vetalkedabouttoday—Iwanttotellyousomethingandseeifyoucanhookitalltogether.It’sthis:whatwasincidentaltotheissueinourWarBetweentheStatesis

incidentaltotheissueinthewarwe’reinnow,andisincidentaltotheissueinyourownprivatewar.NowthinkitoverandtellmewhatyouthinkImean.”Dr.Finchwaited.“Yousoundlikeoneofthe

MinorProphets,”shesaid.“Ithoughtso.Verywell,

nowlistenagain:whenyoucan’tstanditanylonger,whenyourheartisintwo,youmustcometome.Doyou

understand?Youmustcometome.Promiseme.”Heshookher.“Promiseme.”“Yessir,Ipromise,but—”“Nowscat,”saidheruncle.

“GooffsomewhereandplaypostofficewithHank.I’vegotbetterthingstodo—”“Thanwhat?”“Noneofyourbusiness.

Git.”WhenJeanLouisewent

downthesteps,shedidnotseeDr.Finchbitehisunder

lip,gotohiskitchen,andtugRoseAylmer’sfur,orreturntohisstudywithhishandsinhispocketsandwalkslowlybackandforthacrosstheroomuntil,finally,hepickedupthetelephone.

PARTVI

15

MAD,MAD,MADasahatter.Well,that’sthewayofallFinches.DifferencebetweenUncleJackandtherestof’em,though,isheknowshe’scrazy.Shewassittingatatable

behindMr.Cunningham’sicecreamshop,eatingfromawax-papercontainer.Mr.

Cunningham,amanofuncompromisingrectitude,hadgivenherapintfreeofchargeforhavingguessedhisnameyesterday,oneofthetinythingssheadoredaboutMaycomb:peoplerememberedtheirpromises.Whatwashedrivingat?

Promiseme—incidentaltotheissue—Anglo-Saxon—dirtyword—ChildeRoland.Ihopehedoesn’tlosehissenseofproprietyortheywillhave

toshuthimup.He’ssofaroutofthiscenturyhecan’tgotothebathroom,hegoestothewatercloset.Butmadornot,he’stheonlyoneof’emwhohasn’tdonesomethingorsaidsomething—WhydidIcomebackhere?

Justtorubitin,Isuppose.Justtolookatthegravelinthebackyardwherethetreeswere,wherethecarhousewas,andwonderifitwasalladream.Jemparkedhis

fishingcaroverthere,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’sandgototheofficecausedhertofollow

Henrytothesidewalk:shewishedtolookfurtivelyatthemagainandagain,toassureherselfthattheyhadnotundergonesomealarmingphysicalmetamorphosisaswell,yetshedidnotwishtospeaktothem,totouchthem,lestshecausethemtocommitfurtheroutrageinherpresence.AssheandHenrywalked

sidebysidetothedrugstore,shewonderedifMaycomb

wasplanningafallorwinterweddingforthem.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’sputin

Hester’shead—”

“Whatguff?”“Oh,theCatholicsandthe

CommunistsandLordknowswhatelse.Itseemstohaverunalltogetherinhermind.”Henrylaughedandsaid,

“Honey,thesunrisesandsetswiththatBillofhers.EverythinghesaysisGospel.Shelovesherman.”“Isthatwhatlovingyour

manis?”“Hasalottodowithit.”

JeanLouisesaid,“Youmeanlosingyourownidentity,don’tyou?”“Inaway,yes,”said

Henry.“ThenIdoubtifIshall

evermarry.Inevermetaman—”“You’regonnamarryme,

remember?”“Hank,Imayaswelltell

younowandgetitoverwith:I’mnotgoingtomarryyou.Periodandthat’sthat.”

Shehadnotintendedtosayitbutshecouldnotstopherself.“I’veheardthatbefore.”“Well,I’mtellingyounow

thatifyoueverwanttomarry”—wasitshewhowastalking?—“you’dbeststartlookingaround.I’veneverbeeninlovewithyou,butyou’vealwaysknownI’velovedyou.Ithoughtwecouldmakeamarriagewithme

lovingyouonthatbasis,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,wherewastuckedafreshscarletbud.JeanLouise

glancedtowardthesquareandsawEstelle,blackagainsttheafternoonsun,steadilyhoeingunderthebushes.Henryheldouthishandto

JeanLouise,droppedittohisside,andleftwithoutaword.Shewatchedhimwalkacrossthestreet.“You’veknownallthat

abouthim?”“Certainly.”Atticushadtreatedhim

likehisownson,hadgiven

himthelovethatwouldhavebeenJem’s—shewassuddenlyawarethattheywerestandingonthespotwhereJemdied.Atticussawhershudder.“It’sstillwithyou,isn’t

it?”hesaid.“Yes.”“Isn’titabouttimeyougot

overthat?Buryyourdead,JeanLouise.”“Idon’twanttodiscussit.

Iwanttomovesomewhere

else.”“Let’sgointheoffice,

then.”Herfather’sofficehad

alwaysbeenasourceofrefugeforher.Itwasfriendly.Itwasaplacewhere,iftroublesdidnotvanish,theyweremadebearable.Shewonderedifthosewerethesameabstracts,files,andprofessionalimpedimentaonhisdeskthatweretherewhenshewouldrunin,outof

breath,desperateforanicecreamcone,andrequestanickel.Shecouldseehimswingaroundinhisswivelchairandstretchhislegs.Hewouldreachdowndeepintohispocket,pulloutahandfulofchange,andfromitselectaveryspecialnickelforher.Hisdoorwasneverclosedtohischildren.Hesatslowlyandswung

aroundtowardher.Shesawa

flashofpaincrosshisfaceandleaveit.“Youknewallthatabout

Hank?”“Yes.”“Idon’tunderstandmen.”“We-ll,somemenwho

cheattheirwivesoutofgrocerymoneywouldn’tthinkofcheatingthegrocer.Mentendtocarrytheirhonestyinpigeonholes,JeanLouise.Theycanbeperfectlyhonestinsomewaysandfool

themselvesinotherways.Don’tbesohardonHank,he’scomingalong.Jacktellsmeyou’reupsetaboutsomething.”“Jacktoldyou—”“Calledawhileagoand

said—amongotherthings—thatifyouweren’talreadyonthewarpathyou’dsoonbe.FromwhatIheard,youalreadyare.”So.UncleJacktoldhim.

Shewasaccustomednowto

havingherfamilydesertheronebyone.UncleJackwasthelaststrawandtohellwiththemall.Verywell,she’dtellhim.Tellhimandgo.Shewouldnotarguewithhim;thatwasuseless.Healwaysbeather:she’dneverwonanargumentfromhiminherlifeandshedidnotproposetotrynow.“Yessir,I’mupsetabout

something.Thatcitizens’councilin’you’redoing.I

thinkit’sdisgustingandI’lltellyouthatrightnow.”Herfatherleanedbackin

hischair.Hesaid,“JeanLouise,you’vebeenreadingnothingbutNewYorkpapers.I’venodoubtallyouseeiswildthreatsandbombingsandsuch.TheMaycombcouncil’snotliketheNorthAlabamaandTennesseekinds.Ourcouncil’scomposedofandledbyourownpeople.Ibet

yousawnearlyeverymaninthecountyyesterday,andyouknewnearlyeverymanthere.”“Yessir,Idid.Everyman

fromthatsnakeWilloughbyondown.”“Eachmantherewas

probablythereforadifferentreason,”saidherfather.Nowarwaseverfoughtfor

somanydifferentreasons.Whosaidthat?“Yeah,buttheyallmetforonereason.”

“IcantellyouthetworeasonsIwasthere.TheFederalGovernmentandtheNAACP.JeanLouise,whatwasyourfirstreactiontotheSupremeCourtdecision?”Thatwasasafequestion.

Shewouldanswerhim.“Iwasfurious,”shesaid.Shewas.Shehadknownit

wascoming,knewwhatitwouldbe,hadthoughtshewaspreparedforit,butwhensheboughtanewspaperon

thestreetcornerandreadit,shestoppedatthefirstbarshecametoanddrankdownastraightbourbon.“Why?”“Wellsir,theretheywere,

tellin’uswhattodoagain—”Herfathergrinned.“You

weremerelyreactingaccordingtoyourkind,”hesaid.“Whenyoustartedusingyourhead,whatdidyouthink?”

“Nothingmuch,butitscaredme.Itseemedallbackward—theywereputtingthecartwayoutinfrontofthehorse.”“Howso?”Hewasproddingher.Let

him.Theywereonsafeground.“Well,intryingtosatisfyoneamendment,itlooksliketheyrubbedoutanotherone.TheTenth.It’sonlyasmallamendment,onlyonesentencelong,butit

seemedtobetheonethatmeantthemost,somehow.”“Didyouthinkthisoutfor

yourself?”“Why,yessir.Atticus,I

don’tknowanythingabouttheConstitution….”“Youseemtobe

constitutionallysoundsofar.Proceed.”Proceedwithwhat?Tell

himshecouldn’tlookhimintheeye?HewantedherviewsontheConstitution,thenhe’d

have’em:“Well,itseemedthattomeettherealneedsofasmallportionofthepopulation,theCourtsetupsomethinghorriblethatcould—thatcouldaffectthevastmajorityoffolks.Adversely,thatis.Atticus,Idon’tknowanythingaboutit—allwehaveistheConstitutionbetweenusandanythingsomesmartfellowwantstostart,andtherewenttheCourtjustbreezilycanceling

onewholeamendment,itseemedtome.Wehaveasystemofchecksandbalancesandthings,butwhenitcomesdowntoitwedon’thavemuchcheckontheCourt,sowho’llbellthecat?Ohdear,I’msoundin’liketheActorsStudio.”“What?”“Nothing.I’m—I’mjust

tryingtosaythatintryingtodorightwe’veleftourselvesopenforsomethingthatcould

betrulydangeroustoourset-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.Themorewehave,thelongerwewaitandthetirederweget.Thoseoldmossbacksonthewallupthereknewit—butnow,

insteadofgoingaboutitthroughCongressandthestatelegislatureslikeweshould,whenwetriedtodorightwejustmadeiteasierforthemtosetupmorehallwaysandmorewaiting—”Herfathersatupand

laughed.“ItoldyouIdidn’tknow

anythingaboutit.”“Sweet,you’resucha

states’rightistyoumakemea

RooseveltLiberalbycomparison.”“States’rightist?”Atticussaid,“Nowthat

I’veadjustedmyeartofemininereasoning,Ithinkwefindourselvesbelievingtheverysamethings.”Shehadbeenhalfwilling

tospongeoutwhatshehadseenandheard,creepbacktoNewYork,andmakehimamemory.Amemoryofthethreeofthem,Atticus,Jem,

andher,whenthingswereuncomplicatedandpeopledidnotlie.Butshewouldnothavehimcompoundthefelony.Shecouldnotlethimaddhypocrisytoit:“Atticus,ifyoubelieveall

that,thenwhydon’tyoudoright?Imeanthis,thatnomatterhowhatefultheCourtwas,therehadtobeabeginning—”“Youmeanbecausethe

Courtsaiditwemusttakeit?

Noma’am.Idon’tseeitthatway.IfyouthinkIforonecitizenamgoingtotakeitlyingdown,you’requitewrong.Asyousay,JeanLouise,there’sonlyonethinghigherthantheCourtinthiscountry,andthat’stheConstitution—”“Atticus,wearetalkingat

cross-purposes.”“Youaredodging

something.Whatisit?”

Thedarktower.ChildeRolandtothedarktowercame.Highschoollit.UncleJack.Iremembernow.“Whatisit?I’mtryingto

saythatIdon’tapproveofthewaytheydidit,thatitscaresmetodeathwhenIthinkaboutthewaytheydidit,buttheyhadtodoit.Itwasputundertheirnosesandtheyhadtodoit.Atticus,thetimehascomewhenwe’vegottodoright—”

“Doright?”“Yessir.Give’ema

chance.”“TheNegroes?Youdon’t

thinktheyhaveachance?”“Why,nosir.”“What’stopreventany

Negrofromgoingwherehepleasesinthiscountryandfindingwhathewants?”“That’saloadedquestion

andyouknowit,sir!I’msosickofthismoraldouble-dealingIcould—”

Hehadstungher,andshehadshownhimshefeltit.Butshecouldnothelpherself.Herfatherpickedupa

pencilandtappeditonhisdesk.“JeanLouise,”hesaid.“Haveyoueverconsideredthatyoucan’thaveasetofbackwardpeoplelivingamongpeopleadvancedinonekindofcivilizationandhaveasocialArcadia?”“You’requeeringthepitch

onme,Atticus,solet’skeep

thesociologyoutofitforasecond.OfcourseIknowthat,butIheardsomethingonce.Iheardaslogananditstuckinmyhead.Iheard‘Equalrightsforall;specialprivilegesfornone,’andtomeitdidn’tmeananythingbutwhatitsaid.Itdidn’tmeanonecardoffthetopofthestackforthewhitemanandoneoffthebottomfortheNegro,it—”

“Let’slookatitthisway,”saidherfather.“YourealizethatourNegropopulationisbackward,don’tyou?Youwillconcedethat?Yourealizethefullimplicationsoftheword‘backward,’don’tyou?”“Yessir.”“Yourealizethatthevast

majorityofthemhereintheSouthareunabletosharefullyintheresponsibilitiesofcitizenship,andwhy?”

“Yessir.”“Butyouwantthemto

haveallitsprivileges?”“Goddamnit,you’re

twistingitup!”“There’snopointinbeing

profane.Thinkthisover:AbbottCounty,acrosstheriver,isinbadtrouble.Thepopulationisalmostthree-fourthsNegro.Thevotingpopulationisalmosthalf-and-halfnow,becauseofthatbigNormalSchooloverthere.If

thescalesweretippedover,whatwouldyouhave?Thecountywon’tkeepafullboardofregistrars,becauseiftheNegrovoteedgedoutthewhiteyou’dhaveNegroesineverycountyoffice—”“Whatmakesyouso

sure?”“Honey,”hesaid.“Use

yourhead.Whentheyvote,theyvoteinblocs.”“Atticus,you’relikethat

oldpublisherwhosentouta

staffartisttocovertheSpanish-AmericanWar.‘Youdrawthepictures.I’llmakethewar.’You’reascynicalashewas.”“JeanLouise,I’monly

tryingtotellyousomeplaintruths.Youmustseethingsastheyare,aswellastheyshouldbe.”“Thenwhydidn’tyou

showmethingsastheyarewhenIsatonyourlap?Whydidn’tyoushowme,why

weren’tyoucarefulwhenyoureadmehistoryandthethingsthatIthoughtmeantsomethingtoyouthattherewasafencearoundeverythingmarked‘WhiteOnly’?”“Youareinconsistent,”

saidherfathermildly.“Whyso?”“YouslangtheSupreme

Courtwithinaninchofitslife,thenyouturnaroundandtalkliketheNAACP.”

“GoodLord,Ididn’tgetmadwiththeCourtbecauseoftheNegroes.Negroesslappedthebriefonthebench,allright,butthatwasn’twhatmademefurious.Iwasravin’atwhattheyweredoingtotheTenthAmendmentandallthefuzzythinking.TheNegroeswere—”Incidentaltotheissuein

thiswar…toyourownprivatewar.

“Youcarryacardthesedays?”“Whydidn’tyouhitme

instead?ForGod’ssake,Atticus!”Herfathersighed.The

linesaroundhismouthdeepened.Hishandswiththeirswollenjointsfumbledwithhisyellowpencil.“JeanLouise,”hesaid,“let

metellyousomethingrightnow,asplainlyasIcanputit.Iamold-fashioned,butthisI

believewithallmyheart.I’masortofJeffersonianDemocrat.Doyouknowwhatthatis?”“Huh,Ithoughtyouvoted

forEisenhower.IthoughtJeffersonwasoneofthegreatsoulsoftheDemocraticPartyorsomething.”“Gobacktoschool,”her

fathersaid.“AlltheDemocraticPartyhastodowithJeffersonthesedaysisputhispictureupatbanquets.

Jeffersonbelievedfullcitizenshipwasaprivilegetobeearnedbyeachman,thatitwasnotsomethinggivenlightlynortobetakenlightly.Amancouldn’tvotesimplybecausehewasaman,inJefferson’seyes.Hehadtobearesponsibleman.Avotewas,toJefferson,apreciousprivilegeamanattainedforhimselfina—alive-and-let-liveeconomy.”

“Atticus,youarerewritinghistory.”“NoI’mnot.Itmight

benefityoutogobackandhavealookatwhatsomeofourfoundingfathersreallybelieved,insteadofrelyingsomuchonwhatpeoplethesedaystellyoutheybelieved.”“Youmightbea

Jeffersonian,butyou’renoDemocrat.”“NeitherwasJefferson.”

“Thenwhatareyou,asnoborsomething?”“Yes.I’llacceptbeing

calledasnobwhenitcomestogovernment.I’dlikeverymuchtobeleftalonetomanagemyownaffairsinalive-and-let-liveeconomy,I’dlikeformystatetobeleftalonetokeephousewithoutadvicefromtheNAACP,whichknowsnexttonothingaboutitsbusinessandcaresless.Thatorganizationhas

stirredupmoretroubleinthepastfiveyears—”“Atticus,theNAACP

hasn’tdonehalfofwhatI’veseeninthepasttwodays.It’sus.”“Us?”“Yessir,us.You.Has

anybody,inallthewranglingandhighwordsoverstates’rightsandwhatkindofgovernmentweshouldhave,thoughtabouthelpingtheNegroes?

“Wemissedtheboat,Atticus.WesatbackandlettheNAACPcomeinbecauseweweresofuriousatwhatweknewtheCourtwasgoingtodo,sofuriousatwhatitdid,wenaturallystartedshoutingnigger.Tookitoutonthem,becauseweresentedthegovernment.“Whenitcamewedidn’t

giveaninch,wejustraninstead.Whenweshouldhavetriedtohelp’emlive

withthedecision,itwaslikeBonaparte’sretreatweransofast.Iguessit’sthefirsttimeinourhistorythatweeverran,andwhenweranwelost.Wherecouldtheygo?Whocouldtheyturnto?Ithinkwedeserveeverythingwe’vegottenfromtheNAACPandmore.”“Idon’tthinkyoumean

whatyou’resaying.”“Imeaneverywordofit.”

“Thenlet’sputthisonapracticalbasisrightnow.DoyouwantNegroesbythecarloadinourschoolsandchurchesandtheaters?Doyouwanttheminourworld?”“They’repeople,aren’t

they?Wewerequitewillingtoimportthemwhentheymademoneyforus.”“Doyouwantyour

childrengoingtoaschoolthat’sbeendraggeddownto

accommodateNegrochildren?”“Thescholasticlevelof

thatschooldownthestreet,Atticus,couldn’tbeanylowerandyouknowit.They’reentitledtothesameopportunitiesanyoneelsehas,they’reentitledtothesamechance—”Herfatherclearedhis

throat.“Listen,Scout,you’reupsetbyhavingseenmedoingsomethingyouthinkis

wrong,butI’mtryingtomakeyouunderstandmyposition.Desperatelytrying.Thisismerelyforyourowninformation,that’sall:sofarinmyexperience,whiteiswhiteandblack’sblack.Sofar,I’venotyetheardanargumentthathasconvincedmeotherwise.I’mseventy-twoyearsold,butI’mstillopentosuggestion.“Nowthinkaboutthis.

Whatwouldhappenifallthe

NegroesintheSouthweresuddenlygivenfullcivilrights?I’lltellyou.There’dbeanotherReconstruction.Wouldyouwantyourstategovernmentsrunbypeoplewhodon’tknowhowtorun’em?Doyouwantthistownrunby—nowwaitaminute—Willoughby’sacrook,weknowthat,butdoyouknowofanyNegrowhoknowsasmuchasWilloughby?Zeebo’dprobablybeMayor

ofMaycomb.WouldyouwantsomeoneofZeebo’scapabilitytohandlethetown’smoney?We’reoutnumbered,youknow.“Honey,youdonotseem

tounderstandthattheNegroesdownherearestillintheirchildhoodasapeople.Youshouldknowit,you’veseenitallyourlife.They’vemadeterrificprogressinadaptingthemselvestowhiteways,butthey’refarfromit

yet.Theywerecomingalongfine,travelingataratetheycouldabsorb,moreof’emvotingthaneverbefore.ThentheNAACPsteppedinwithitsfantasticdemandsandshoddyideasofgovernment—canyoublametheSouthforresentingbeingtoldwhattodoaboutitsownpeoplebypeoplewhohavenoideaofitsdailyproblems?“TheNAACPdoesn’tcare

whetheraNegromanownsor

rentshisland,howwellhecanfarm,orwhetherornothetriestolearnatradeandstandonhisowntwofeet—ohno,alltheNAACPcaresaboutisthatman’svote.“So,canyoublamethe

Southforwantingtoresistaninvasionbypeoplewhoareapparentlysoashamedoftheirracetheywanttogetridofit?“Howcanyouhavegrown

uphere,ledthekindoflife

you’veled,andcanonlyseesomeonestompingontheTenthAmendment?JeanLouise,they’retryingtowreckus—wherehaveyoubeen?”“RighthereinMaycomb.”“Whatdoyoumean?”“ImeanIgrewupright

hereinyourhouse,andIneverknewwhatwasinyourmind.Ionlyheardwhatyousaid.Youneglectedtotellmethatwewerenaturallybetter

thantheNegroes,blesstheirkinkyheads,thattheywereabletogosofarbutsofaronly,youneglectedtotellmewhatMr.O’Hanlontoldmeyesterday.Thatwasyoutalkingdownthere,butyouletMr.O’Hanlonsayit.You’reacowardaswellasasnobandatyrant,Atticus.Whenyoutalkedofjusticeyouforgottosaythatjusticeissomethingthathasnothingtodowithpeople—

“IheardyouonthesubjectofZeebo’sboythismorning…nothingtodowithourCalpurniaandwhatshe’smeanttous,howfaithfulshe’sbeentous—yousawnigger,yousawNAACP,youbalancedtheequities,didn’tyou?“Irememberthatrapecase

youdefended,butImissedthepoint.Youlovejustice,allright.Abstractjusticewrittendownitembyitemonabrief

—nothingtodowiththatblackboy,youjustlikeaneatbrief.Hiscauseinterferedwithyourorderlymind,andyouhadtoworkorderoutofdisorder.It’sacompulsionwithyou,andnowit’scominghometoyou—”Shewasonherfeet,

holdingthebackofthechair.“Atticus,I’mthrowingitat

youandI’mgonnagrinditin:youbettergowarnyouryoungerfriendsthatifthey

wanttopreserveOurWayofLife,itbeginsathome.Itdoesn’tbeginwiththeschoolsorthechurchesoranyplacebuthome.Tell’emthat,anduseyourblind,immoral,misguided,nigger-lovin’daughterasyourexample.Goinfrontofmewithabellandsay,‘Unclean!’Pointmeoutasyourmistake.Pointmeout:JeanLouiseFinch,whowasexposedtoallkindsofguff

fromthewhitetrashshewenttoschoolwith,butshemightneverhavegonetoschoolforalltheinfluenceithadonher.EverythingthatwasGospeltohershegotathomefromherfather.Yousowedtheseedsinme,Atticus,andnowit’scominghometoyou—”“Areyoufinishedwith

whatyouhavetosay?”Shesneered.“Nothalf

through.I’llneverforgiveyouforwhatyoudidtome.

Youcheatedme,you’vedrivenmeoutofmyhomeandnowI’minano-man’s-landbutgood—there’snoplaceformeanymoreinMaycomb,andI’llneverbeentirelyathomeanywhereelse.”Hervoicecracked.“Why

inthenameofGoddidn’tyoumarryagain?Marrysomenicedim-wittedSouthernladywhowouldhaveraisedmeright?Turned

meintoasimpering,mealy-mouthedmagnoliatypewhobatshereyelashesandcrossesherhandsandlivesfornothingbutherlil’olehus-band.AtleastIwouldhavebeenblissful.I’dhavebeentypicalonehundredpercentMaycomb;Iwouldhavelivedoutmylittlelifeandgivenyougrandchildrentodoteon;IwouldhavespreadoutlikeAunty,fannedmyselfonthefrontporch,anddiedhappy.

Whydidn’tyoutellmethedifferencebetweenjusticeandjustice,andrightandright?Whydidn’tyou?”“Ididn’tthinkitnecessary,

nordoIthinksonow.”“Well,itwasnecessaryand

youknowit.God!AndspeakingofGod,whydidn’tyoumakeitveryplaintomethatGodmadetheracesandputtheblackfolksinAfricawiththeintentionofkeepingthemtheresothe

missionariescouldgotellthemthatJesusloved’embutmeantfor’emtostayinAfrica?Thatusbringing’emoverherewasallabadmistake,sothey’retoblame?ThatJesuslovedallmankind,buttherearedifferentkindsofmenwithseparatefencesaround’em,thatJesusmeantthatanymancangoasfarashewantswithinthatfence—”“JeanLouise,comedown

toearth.”

Hesaiditsoeasilythatshestoppedshort.Herwaveofinvectivehadcrashedoverhimandstillhesatthere.Hehaddeclinedtobeangry.Somewherewithinhershefeltthatshewasnoladybutnopoweronearthwouldpreventhimfrombeingagentleman,yetthepistoninsidedroveheron:“Allright,I’llcomedown

toearth.I’lllandrightinthelivingroomofourhouse.I’ll

comedowntoyou.Ibelievedinyou.Ilookeduptoyou,Atticus,likeIneverlookeduptoanybodyinmylifeandneverwillagain.Ifyouhadonlygivenmesomehint,ifyouhadonlybrokenyourwordwithmeacoupleoftimes,ifyouhadbeenbad-temperedorimpatientwithme—ifyouhadbeenalesserman,maybeIcouldhavetakenwhatIsawyoudoing.Ifonceortwiceyou’dletme

catchyoudoingsomethingvile,thenIwouldhaveunderstoodyesterday.ThenI’dhavesaidthat’sjustHisWay,that’sMyOldMan,becauseI’dhavebeenpreparedforitsomewherealongtheline—”Herfather’sfacewas

compassionate,almostpleading.“YouseemtothinkI’minvolvedinsomethingpositivelyevil,”hesaid.“The

council’souronlydefense,JeanLouise—”“IsMr.O’Hanlonouronly

defense?”“Baby,Mr.O’Hanlon’s

not,I’mhappytosay,typicaloftheMaycombCountycouncilmembership.Ihopeyounoticedmybrevityinintroducinghim.”“Youweresortofshort,

butAtticus,thatman—”“Mr.O’Hanlon’snot

prejudiced,JeanLouise.He’s

asadist.”“Thenwhydidyoualllet

himgetupthere?”“Becausehewantedto.”“Sir?”“Ohyes,”saidherfather

vaguely.“Hegoesaboutaddressingcitizens’councilsalloverthestate.Heaskedpermissiontospeaktooursandwegaveittohim.Iratherthinkhe’spaidbysomeorganizationinMassachusetts—”

Herfatherswungawayfromherandlookedoutthewindow.“I’vebeentryingtomakeyouseethattheMaycombcouncil,atanyrate,issimplyamethodofdefenseagainst—”“Defense,hell!Atticus,we

aren’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

—”

Hervoicewasheavywithsarcasm:“We’veagreedthatthey’rebackward,thatthey’reilliterate,thatthey’redirtyandcomicalandshiftlessandnogood,they’reinfantsandthey’restupid,someofthem,butwehaven’tagreedononethingandweneverwill.Youdenythatthey’rehuman.”“Howso?”“Youdenythemhope.Any

maninthisworld,Atticus,anymanwhohasaheadand

armsandlegs,wasbornwithhopeinhisheart.Youwon’tfindthatintheConstitution,Ipickedthatupinchurchsomewhere.Theyaresimplepeople,mostofthem,butthatdoesn’tmakethemsubhuman.“Youaretellingthemthat

Jesuslovesthem,butnotmuch.Youareusingfrightfulmeanstojustifyendsthatyouthinkareforthegoodofthemostpeople.Yourendsmay

wellberight—IthinkIbelieveinthesameends—butyoucannotusepeopleasyourpawns,Atticus.Youcannot.HitlerandthatcrowdinRussia’vedonesomelovelythingsfortheirlands,andtheyslaughteredtensofmillionsofpeopledoing’em….”Atticussmiled.“Hitler,

eh?”“You’renobetter.You’re

nodamnbetter.Youjusttry

tokilltheirsoulsinsteadoftheirbodies.Youjusttrytotell’em,‘Look,begood.Behaveyourselves.Ifyou’regoodandmindus,youcangetalotoutoflife,butifyoudon’tmindus,wewillgiveyounothingandtakeawaywhatwe’vealreadygivenyou.’“Iknowit’sgottobeslow,

Atticus,Iknowthatfullwell.ButIknowit’sgottobe.Iwonderwhatwouldhappenif

theSouthhada‘BeKindtotheNiggersWeek’?IfjustforoneweektheSouthwouldshowthemsomesimple,impartialcourtesy.Iwonderwhatwouldhappen.Doyouthinkit’dgive’emairsorthebeginningsofself-respect?Haveyoueverbeensnubbed,Atticus?Doyouknowhowitfeels?No,don’ttellmethey’rechildrenanddon’tfeelit:Iwasachildandfeltit,sogrownchildrenmust

feel,too.Arealgoodsnub,Atticus,makesyoufeellikeyou’retoonastytoassociatewithpeople.Howthey’reasgoodastheyarenowisamysterytome,afterahundredyearsofsystematicdenialthatthey’rehuman.Iwonderwhatkindofmiraclewecouldworkwithaweek’sdecency.“Therewasnopointin

sayinganyofthisbecauseIknowyouwon’tgiveaninch

andyouneverwill.You’vecheatedmeinawaythat’sinexpressible,butdon’tletitworryyou,becausethejokeisentirelyonme.You’retheonlypersonIthinkI’veeverfullytrustedandnowI’mdonefor.”“I’vekilledyou,Scout.I

hadto.”“Don’tyougivemeany

moredouble-talk!You’reanice,sweet,oldgentleman,andI’llneverbelieveaword

yousaytomeagain.Idespiseyouandeverythingyoustandfor.”“Well,Iloveyou.”“Don’tyoudaresaythatto

me!Loveme,huh!Atticus,I’mgettingoutofthisplacefast,Idon’tknowwhereI’mgoingbutI’mgoing.IneverwanttoseeanotherFinchorhearofoneaslongasIlive!”“Asyouplease.”“Youdouble-dealing,ring-

tailedoldsonofabitch!You

justsitthereandsay‘Asyouplease’whenyou’veknockedmedownandstompedonmeandspatonme,youjustsitthereandsay‘Asyouplease’wheneverythingIeverlovedinthisworld’s—youjustsitthereandsay‘Asyouplease’—youloveme!Yousonofabitch!”“That’lldo,JeanLouise.”That’lldo,hisgeneralcall

toorderinthedayswhenshebelieved.Sohekillsmeand

givesitatwist…howcanhetauntmeso?Howcanhetreatmeso?Godinheaven,takemeawayfromhere…Godinheaven,takemeaway….

PARTVII

18

SHENEVERKNEWhowshegotthecarstarted,howshehelditintheroad,howshegothomewithoutaseriousaccident.Iloveyou.Asyouplease.

Hadhenotsaidthat,perhapsshewouldhavesurvived.Ifhehadfoughtherfairly,shecouldhaveflunghiswords

backathim,butshecouldnotcatchmercuryandholditinherhands.Shewenttoherroomand

threwhersuitcaseontothebed.Iwasbornrightwherethissuitcaseis.Whydidn’tyouthrottlemethen?Whydidyouletmelivethislong?“JeanLouise,whatareyou

doing?”“Packing,Aunty.”Alexandracametotheside

ofthebed.“Youhaveten

moredayswithus.Issomethingwrong?”“Aunty,leavemealonefor

Christ’ssake!”Alexandrabridled.“I’ll

thankyounottousethatYankeeexpressioninthishouse!What’swrong?”JeanLouisewenttothe

closet,snatchedherdressesfromtheirhangers,returnedtothebed,andcrammedthemintohersuitcase.

“That’snowaytopack,”saidAlexandra.“It’smyway.”Shescoopeduphershoes

frombesidethebedandthrewtheminafterherdresses.“Whatisit,JeanLouise?”“Aunty,youmayissuea

communiquétotheeffectthatIamgoingsofarawayfromMaycombCountyit’lltakemeahundredyearstogetback!Ineverwanttoseeitor

anybodyinitagain,andthatgoesforeveryoneofyou,theundertaker,theprobatejudge,andthechairmanoftheboardoftheMethodistChurch!”“You’vehadafightwith

Atticus,haven’tyou?”“Ihave.”Alexandrasatonthebed

andclaspedherhands.“JeanLouise,Idon’tknowwhatitwasabout,andthewayyoulookitmusthavebeenbad,

butIdoknowthis.NoFinchruns.”Sheturnedtoheraunt:

“JesusChrist,don’tyougotellingmewhataFinchdoesandwhataFinchdoesn’tdo!I’muptoherewithwhatFinchesdo,andIcan’ttakeitonesecondlonger!You’vebeenrammingthatdownmythroateversinceIwasborn—yourfatherthis,theFinchesthat!Myfather’ssomethingunspeakableandUncleJack’s

likeAliceinWonderland!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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