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"
Sin
and
squalor
—
what
was
that
,
Gertrude
?
"
Mrs
.
Merriweather
turned
on
her
chimes
for
the
lady
sitting
beside
her
.
"
Oh
that
.
Well
,
I
always
say
forgive
and
forget
,
forgive
and
forget
.
Thing
that
church
ought
to
do
is
help
her
lead
a
Christian
life
for
those
children
from
here
on
out
.
Some
of
the
men
ought
to
go
out
there
and
tell
that
preacher
to
encourage
her
.
"
"
Excuse
me
,
Mrs
.
Merriweather
,
"
I
interrupted
,
"
are
you
all
talking
about
Mayella
Ewell
?
"
"
May
—
?
No
,
child
.
That
darky
’
s
wife
.
Tom
’
s
wife
,
Tom
—
"
"
Robinson
,
ma
’
am
.
"
Mrs
.
Merriweather
turned
back
to
her
neighbor
.
"
There
’
s
one
thing
I
truly
believe
,
Gertrude
,
"
she
continued
,
"
but
some
people
just
don
’
t
see
it
my
way
.
If
we
just
let
them
know
we
forgive
‘
em
,
that
we
’
ve
forgotten
it
,
then
this
whole
thing
’
ll
blow
over
.
"
"
Ah
—
Mrs
.
Merriweather
,
"
I
interrupted
once
more
,
"
what
’
ll
blow
over
?
"
Again
,
she
turned
to
me
.
Mrs
.
Merriweather
was
one
of
those
childless
adults
who
find
it
necessary
to
ume
a
different
tone
of
voice
when
speaking
to
children
.
"
Nothing
,
Jean
Louise
,
"
she
said
,
in
stately
largo
,
"
the
cooks
and
field
hands
are
just
dissatisfied
,
but
they
’
re
settling
down
now
—
they
grumbled
all
next
day
after
that
trial
.
"
Mrs
.
Merriweather
faced
Mrs
.
Farrow
:
"
Gertrude
,
I
tell
you
there
’
s
nothing
more
distracting
than
a
sulky
darky
.
Their
mouths
go
down
to
here
.
Just
ruins
your
day
to
have
one
of
‘
em
in
the
kitchen
.
You
know
what
I
said
to
my
Sophy
,
Gertrude
?
I
said
,
‘
Sophy
,
’
I
said
,
‘
you
simply
are
not
being
a
Christian
today
.
Jesus
Christ
never
went
around
grumbling
and
complaining
,
’
and
you
know
,
it
did
her
good
.
She
took
her
eyes
off
that
floor
and
said
,
‘
Nome
,
Miz
Merriweather
,
Jesus
never
went
around
grumblin
’
.
’
I
tell
you
,
Gertrude
,
you
never
ought
to
let
an
opportunity
go
by
to
witness
for
the
Lord
.
"
I
was
reminded
of
the
ancient
little
organ
in
the
chapel
at
Finch
’
s
Landing
.
When
I
was
very
small
,
and
if
I
had
been
very
good
during
the
day
,
Atticus
would
let
me
pump
its
bellows
while
he
picked
out
a
tune
with
one
finger
.
The
last
note
would
linger
as
long
as
there
was
air
to
sustain
it
.
Mrs
.
Merriweather
had
run
out
of
air
,
I
judged
,
and
was
replenishing
her
supply
while
Mrs
.
Farrow
composed
herself
to
speak
.
