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"
It
’
s
not
time
to
worry
yet
,
"
Atticus
reassured
him
,
as
we
went
to
the
diningroom
.
"
We
’
re
not
through
yet
.
There
’
ll
be
an
appeal
,
you
can
count
on
that
.
Gracious
alive
,
Cal
,
what
’
s
all
this
?
"
He
was
staring
at
his
breakfast
plate
.
Calpurnia
said
,
"
Tom
Robinson
’
s
daddy
sent
you
along
this
chicken
this
morning
.
I
fixed
it
.
"
"
You
tell
him
I
’
m
proud
to
get
it
—
bet
they
don
’
t
have
chicken
for
breakfast
at
the
White
House
.
What
are
these
?
"
"
Rolls
,
"
said
Calpurnia
.
"
Estelle
down
at
the
hotel
sent
‘
em
.
"
Atticus
looked
up
at
her
,
puzzled
,
and
she
said
,
"
You
better
step
out
here
and
see
what
’
s
in
the
kitchen
,
Mr
.
Finch
.
"
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
pigs
’
knuckles
.
"
Reckon
Aunty
’
ll
let
me
eat
these
in
the
diningroom
?
"
Calpurnia
said
,
"
This
was
all
‘
round
the
back
steps
when
I
got
here
this
morning
.
They
—
they
‘
preciate
what
you
did
,
Mr
.
Finch
.
They
—
they
aren
’
t
oversteppin
’
themselves
,
are
they
?
"
Atticus
’
s
eyes
filled
with
tears
.
He
did
not
speak
for
a
moment
.
"
Tell
them
I
’
m
very
grateful
,
"
he
said
.
"
Tell
them
—
tell
them
they
must
never
do
this
again
.
Times
are
too
hard
.
.
.
.
"
He
left
the
kitchen
,
went
in
the
diningroom
and
excused
himself
to
Aunt
Alexandra
,
put
on
his
hat
and
went
to
town
.
