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Jem
smiled
.
"
He
’
s
not
supposed
to
lean
,
Reverend
,
but
don
’
t
fret
,
we
’
ve
won
it
,
"
he
said
wisely
.
"
Don
’
t
see
how
any
jury
could
convict
on
what
we
heard
—
"
"
Now
don
’
t
you
be
so
confident
,
Mr
.
Jem
,
I
ain
’
t
ever
seen
any
jury
decide
in
favor
of
a
colored
man
over
a
white
man
.
.
.
.
"
But
Jem
took
exception
to
Reverend
Sykes
,
and
we
were
subjected
to
a
lengthy
review
of
the
evidence
with
Jem
’
s
ideas
on
the
law
regarding
rape
:
it
wasn
’
t
rape
if
she
let
you
,
but
she
had
to
be
eighteen
—
in
Alabama
,
that
is
—
and
Mayella
was
nineteen
.
Apparently
you
had
to
kick
and
holler
,
you
had
to
be
overpowered
and
stomped
on
,
preferably
knocked
stone
cold
.
If
you
were
under
eighteen
,
you
didn
’
t
have
to
go
through
all
this
.
"
Mr
.
Jem
,
"
Reverend
Sykes
demurred
,
"
this
ain
’
t
a
polite
thing
for
little
ladies
to
hear
.
.
.
"
"
Aw
,
she
doesn
’
t
know
what
we
’
re
talkin
’
about
,
"
said
Jem
.
"
Scout
,
this
is
too
old
for
you
,
ain
’
t
it
?
"
"
It
most
certainly
is
not
,
I
know
every
word
you
’
re
saying
.
"
Perhaps
I
was
too
convincing
,
because
Jem
hushed
and
never
discussed
the
subject
again
.
"
What
time
is
it
,
Reverend
?
"
he
asked
.
"
Gettin
’
on
toward
eight
.
"
I
looked
down
and
saw
Atticus
strolling
around
with
his
hands
in
his
pockets
:
he
made
a
tour
of
the
windows
,
then
walked
by
the
railing
over
to
the
jury
box
.
He
looked
in
it
,
inspected
Judge
Taylor
on
his
throne
,
then
went
back
to
where
he
started
.
I
caught
his
eye
and
waved
to
him
.
He
acknowledged
my
salute
with
a
nod
,
and
resumed
his
tour
.
Mr
.
Gilmer
was
standing
at
the
windows
talking
to
Mr
.
Underwood
.
Bert
,
the
court
reporter
,
was
chain
-
smoking
:
he
sat
back
with
his
feet
on
the
table
.
