It was Jemâs turn to cry. His face was streaked with angry tears as we made our way through the cheerful crowd. âIt ainât right,â he muttered, all the way to the comer of the square where we found Atticus waiting. Atticus was standing under the street light looking as though nothing had happened: his vest was buttoned, his collar and tie were neatly in place, his watch-chain glistened, he was his impassive self again.
âIt ainât right, Atticus,â said Jem.
âNo son, itâs not right.â
We walked home.
Aunt Alexandra was waiting up. She was in her dressing gown, and I could have sworn she had on her corset underneath it. âIâm sorry, brother,â she murmured. Having never heard her call Atticus âbrotherâ before, I stole a glance at Jem, but he was not listening. He would look up at Atticus, then down at the floor, and I wondered if he thought Atticus somehow responsible for Tom Robinsonâs conviction.
âIs he all right?â Aunty asked, indicating Jem.
âHeâll be so presently,â said Atticus. âIt was a little too strong for him.â Our father sighed. âIâm going to bed,â he said. âIf I donât wake up in the morning, donât call me.â
âI didnât think it wise in the first place to let themââ
âThis is their home, sister,â said Atticus. âWeâve made it this way for them, they might as well leam to cope with it.â
âBut they donât have to go to the courthouse and wallow in itââ
âItâs just as much Maycomb County as missionary teas.â
âAtticusââ Aunt Alexandraâs eyes were anxious. âYou are the last person I thought would turn bitter over this.â
âIâm not bitter, just tired. Iâm going to bed.â
âAtticusââ said Jem bleakly.
He turned in the doorway. âWhat, son?â
âHow could they do it, how could they?â
âI donât know, but they did it. Theyâve done it before and they did it tonight and theyâll do it again and when they do itâseems that only children weep. Good night.â
But things are always better in the morning. Atticus rose at his usual ungodly hour and was in the livingroom behind the Mobile Register when we stumbled in.
Jemâs morning face posed the question his sleepy lips struggled to ask.
âItâs not time to worry yet,â Atticus reassured him, as we went to the diningroom. âWeâre not through yet. Thereâll be an appeal, you can count on that. Gracious alive, Cal, whatâs all this?â He was staring at his breakfast plate.
Calpurnia said, âTom Robinsonâs daddy sent you along this chicken this morning. I fixed it.â
âYou tell him Iâm proud to get itâbet they donât have chicken for breakfast at the White House. What are these?â
âRolls,â said Calpurnia. âEstelle down at the hotel sent âem.â
Atticus looked up at her, puzzled, and she said, âYou better step out here and see whatâs in the kitchen, Mr. Finch.â
We followed him. The kitchen table was loaded with enough food to bury the family: hunks of salt pork, tomatoes, beans, even scuppernongs. Atticus grinned when he found a jar of pickled pigsâ knuckles. âReckon Auntyâll let me eat these in the diningroom?â
Calpurnia said, âThis was all âround the back steps when I got here this morning. Theyâthey âpredate what you did, Mr. Finch. Theyâthey arenât oversteppinâ themselves, are they?â
Atticusâs eyes filled with tears. He did not speak for a moment. âTell them Iâm very grateful,â he said. âTell themâtell them they must never do this again.
Times are too hard... â
He left the kitchen, went in the diningroom and excused himself to Aunt Alexandra, put on his hat and went to town.
We heard Dillâs step in the hall, so Calpurnia left Atticusâs uneaten breakfast on the table. Between rabbit-bites Dill told us of Miss Rachelâs reaction to last night, which was: if a man like Atticus Finch wants to butt his head against a stone wall itâs his head.
âIâda got her told,â growled Dill, gnawing a chicken leg, âbut she didnât look much like tellinâ this morning. Said she was up half the night wonderinâ where I was, said sheâda had the sheriff after me but he was at the hearing.â
âDill, youâve got to stop goinâ off without tellinâ her,â said Jem. âIt just aggravates her.â
Dill sighed patiently. âI told her till I was blue in the face where I was goinâ â sheâs just seeinâ too many snakes in the closet. Bet that woman drinks a pint for breakfast every morningâknow she drinks two glasses full. Seen her.â
âDonât talk like that, Dill,â said Aunt Alexandra. âItâs not becoming to a child. Itâs âcynical.â
âI ainât cynical, Miss Alexandra. Tellinâ the truthâs not cynical, is it?â
âThe way you tell it, it is.â
Jemâs eyes flashed at her, but he said to Dill, âLetâs go. You can take that runner with you.â
When we went to the front porch, Miss Stephanie Crawford was busy telling it to Miss Maudie Atkinson and Mr. Avery. They looked around at us and went on talking. Jem made a feral noise in his throat. I wished for a weapon.
âI hate grown folks lookinat you,â said Dill. âMakes you feel like youâve done something.â
Miss Maudie yelled for Jem Finch to come there.
Jem groaned and heaved himself up from the swing. âWeâll go with you,â Dill said.
Miss Stephanieâs nose quivered with curiosity. She wanted to know who all gave us permission to go to courtâshe didnât see us but it was all over town this morning that we were in the Colored balcony. Did Atticus put us up there as a sort ofâ? Wasnât it right close up there with all thoseâ? Did Scout understand all the â ? Didnât it make us mad to see our daddy beat?
âHush, Stephanie.â Miss Maudieâs diction was deadly. âIâve not got all the morning to pass on the porchâJem Finch, I called to find out if you and your colleagues can eat some cake. Got up at five to make it, so you better say yes. Excuse us, Stephanie. Good morning, Mr. Avery.â
There was a big cake and two little ones on Miss Maudieâs kitchen table. There should have been three little ones. It was not like Miss Maudie to forget Dill, and we must have shown it. But we understood when she cut from the big cake and gave the slice to Jem.
As we ate, we sensed that this was Miss Maudieâs way of saying that as far as she was concerned, nothing had changed. She sat quietly in a kitchen chair, watching us.
Suddenly she spoke: âDonât fret, Jem. Things are never as bad as they seem.â
Indoors, when Miss Maudie wanted to say something lengthy she spread her fingers on her knees and settled her bridgework. This she did, and we waited.
âI simply want to tell you that there are some men in this world who were born to do our unpleasant jobs for us. Your fatherâs one of them.â
âOh,â said Jem. âWell.â
âDonât you oh well me, sir,â Miss Maudie replied, recognizing Jemâs fatalistic noises, âyou are not old enough to appreciate what I said.â
Jem was staring at his half-eaten cake. âItâs like beinâ a caterpillar in a cocoon, thatâs what it is,â he said. âLike somethinâ asleep wrapped up in a warm place. I always thought Maycomb folks were the best folks in the world, least thatâs what they seemed like.â
âWeâre the safest folks in the world,â said Miss Maudie. âWeâre so rarely called on to be Christians, but when we are, weâve got men like Atticus to go for us.â
Jem grinned ruefully. âWish the rest of the county thought that.â
âYouâd be surprised how many of us do.â
âWho?â Jemâs voice rose. âWho in this town did one thing to help Tom Robinson, just who?â
âHis colored friends for one thing, and people like us. People like Judge Taylor. People like Mr. Heck Tate. Stop eating and start thinking, Jem. Did it ever strike you that Judge Taylor naming Atticus to defend that boy was no accident? That Judge Taylor might have had his reasons for naming him?â
This was a thought. Court-appointed defenses were usually given to Maxwell Green, Maycombâs latest addition to the bar, who needed the experience.
Maxwell Green should have had Tom Robinsonâs case.
âYou think about that,â Miss Maudie was saying. âIt was no accident. I was sittinâ there on the porch last night, waiting. I waited and waited to see you all come
down the sidewalk, and as I waited I thought, Atticus Finch wonât win, he canât win, but heâs the only man in these parts who can keep a jury out so long in a case like that. And I thought to myself, well, weâre making a stepâitâs just a baby- step, but itâs a step.â
ââtâs all right to talk like thatâcanât any Christian judges anâ lawyers make up for heathen juries,â Jem muttered. âSoonâs I get grownââ
âThatâs something youâll have to take up with your father,â Miss Maudie said.
We went down Miss Maudieâs cool new steps into the sunshine and found Mr. Avery and Miss Stephanie Crawford still at it. They had moved down the sidewalk and were standing in front of Miss Stephanieâs house. Miss Rachel was walking toward them.
âI think Iâll be a clown when I get grown,â said Dill.
Jem and I stopped in our tracks.
âYes sir, a clown,â he said. âThere ainât one thing in this world I can do about folks except laugh, so Iâm gonna join the circus and laugh my head off.â
âYou got it backwards, Dill,â said Jem. âClowns are sad, itâs folks that laugh at them.â
âWell Iâm gonna be a new kind of clown. Iâm gonna stand in the middle of the ring and laugh at the folks. Just looka yonder,â he pointed. âEvery one of âem oughta be ridinâ broomsticks. Aunt Rachel already does.â
Miss Stephanie and Miss Rachel were waving wildly at us, in a way that did not give the lie to Dillâs observation.
âOh gosh,â breathed Jem. âI reckon itâd be ugly not to see âem.â
Something was wrong. Mr. Avery was red in the face from a sneezing spell and nearly blew us off the sidewalk when we came up. Miss Stephanie was trembling with excitement, and Miss Rachel caught Dillâs shoulder. âYou get on in the back yard and stay there,â she said. âThereâs danger aâcominâ.â
ââ s matter?â I asked.
âAinât you heard yet? Itâs all over townââ
At that moment Aunt Alexandra came to the door and called us, but she was too late. It was Miss Stephanieâs pleasure to tell us: this morning Mr. Bob Ewell stopped Atticus on the post office corner, spat in his face, and told him heâd get him if it took the rest of his life.