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A
steaming
summer
night
was
no
different
from
a
winter
morning
.
Mr
.
Heck
Tate
,
who
had
entered
the
courtroom
and
was
talking
to
Atticus
,
might
have
been
wearing
his
high
boots
and
lumber
jacket
.
Atticus
had
stopped
his
tranquil
journey
and
had
put
his
foot
onto
the
bottom
rung
of
a
chair
;
as
he
listened
to
what
Mr
.
Tate
was
saying
,
he
ran
his
hand
slowly
up
and
down
his
thigh
.
I
expected
Mr
.
Tate
to
say
any
minute
,
"
Take
him
,
Mr
.
Finch
.
.
.
.
"
But
Mr
.
Tate
said
,
"
This
court
will
come
to
order
,
"
in
a
voice
that
rang
with
authority
,
and
the
heads
below
us
jerked
up
.
Mr
.
Tate
left
the
room
and
returned
with
Tom
Robinson
.
He
steered
Tom
to
his
place
beside
Atticus
,
and
stood
there
.
Judge
Taylor
had
roused
himself
to
sudden
alertness
and
was
sitting
up
straight
,
looking
at
the
empty
jury
box
.
What
happened
after
that
had
a
dreamlike
quality
:
in
a
dream
I
saw
the
jury
return
,
moving
like
underwater
swimmers
,
and
Judge
Taylor
’
s
voice
came
from
far
away
and
was
tiny
.
I
saw
something
only
a
lawyer
’
s
child
could
be
expected
to
see
,
could
be
expected
to
watch
for
,
and
it
was
like
watching
Atticus
walk
into
the
street
,
raise
a
rifle
to
his
shoulder
and
pull
the
trigger
,
but
watching
all
the
time
knowing
that
the
gun
was
empty
.
A
jury
never
looks
at
a
defendant
it
has
convicted
,
and
when
this
jury
came
in
,
not
one
of
them
looked
at
Tom
Robinson
.
The
foreman
handed
a
piece
of
paper
to
Mr
.
Tate
who
handed
it
to
the
clerk
who
handed
it
to
the
judge
.
.
.
.
I
shut
my
eyes
.
Judge
Taylor
was
polling
the
jury
:
"
Guilty
.
.
.
guilty
.
.
.
guilty
.
.
.
guilty
.
.
"
I
peeked
at
Jem
:
his
hands
were
white
from
gripping
the
balcony
rail
,
and
his
shoulders
jerked
as
if
each
"
guilty
"
was
a
separate
stab
between
them
.
Judge
Taylor
was
saying
something
.
His
gavel
was
in
his
fist
,
but
he
wasn
’
t
using
it
.
Dimly
,
I
saw
Atticus
pushing
papers
from
the
table
into
his
briefcase
.
He
snapped
it
shut
,
went
to
the
court
reporter
and
said
something
,
nodded
to
Mr
.
Gilmer
,
and
then
went
to
Tom
Robinson
and
whispered
something
to
him
.
Atticus
put
his
hand
on
Tom
’
s
shoulder
as
he
whispered
.
Atticus
took
his
coat
off
the
back
of
his
chair
and
pulled
it
over
his
shoulder
.
Then
he
left
the
courtroom
,
but
not
by
his
usual
exit
.
He
must
have
wanted
to
go
home
the
short
way
,
because
he
walked
quickly
down
the
middle
aisle
toward
the
south
exit
.
I
followed
the
top
of
his
head
as
he
made
his
way
to
the
door
.
He
did
not
look
up
.
Someone
was
punching
me
,
but
I
was
reluctant
to
take
my
eyes
from
the
people
below
us
,
and
from
the
image
of
Atticus
’
s
lonely
walk
down
the
aisle
.
"
Miss
Jean
Louise
?
"
I
looked
around
.
They
were
standing
.
All
around
us
and
in
the
balcony
on
the
opposite
wall
,
the
Negroes
were
getting
to
their
feet
.
Reverend
Sykes
’
s
voice
was
as
distant
as
Judge
Taylor
’
s
:
