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Dill
said
Calpurnia
and
Atticus
lifted
Helen
to
her
feet
and
half
carried
,
half
walked
her
to
the
cabin
.
They
stayed
inside
a
long
time
,
and
Atticus
came
out
alone
.
When
they
drove
back
by
the
dump
,
some
of
the
Ewells
hollered
at
them
,
but
Dill
didn
’
t
catch
what
they
said
.
Maycomb
was
interested
by
the
news
of
Tom
’
s
death
for
perhaps
two
days
;
two
days
was
enough
for
the
information
to
spread
through
the
county
.
"
Did
you
hear
about
?
.
.
.
.
No
?
Well
,
they
say
he
was
runnin
’
fit
to
beat
lightnin
’
.
.
.
"
To
Maycomb
,
Tom
’
s
death
was
typical
.
Typical
of
a
nigger
to
cut
and
run
.
Typical
of
a
nigger
’
s
mentality
to
have
no
plan
,
no
thought
for
the
future
,
just
run
blind
first
chance
he
saw
.
Funny
thing
,
Atticus
Finch
might
’
ve
got
him
off
scot
free
,
but
wait
—
?
Hell
no
.
You
know
how
they
are
.
Easy
come
,
easy
go
.
Just
shows
you
,
that
Robinson
boy
was
legally
married
,
they
say
he
kept
himself
clean
,
went
to
church
and
all
that
,
but
when
it
comes
down
to
the
line
the
veneer
’
s
mighty
thin
.
Nigger
always
comes
out
in
‘
em
.
A
few
more
details
,
enabling
the
listener
to
repeat
his
version
in
turn
,
then
nothing
to
talk
about
until
The
Maycomb
Tribune
appeared
the
following
Thursday
.
There
was
a
brief
obituary
in
the
Colored
News
,
but
there
was
also
an
editorial
.
Mr
.
B
.
B
.
Underwood
was
at
his
most
bitter
,
and
he
couldn
’
t
have
cared
less
who
canceled
advertising
and
subscriptions
.
(
But
Maycomb
didn
’
t
play
that
way
:
Mr
.
Underwood
could
holler
till
he
sweated
and
write
whatever
he
wanted
to
,
he
’
d
still
get
his
advertising
and
subscriptions
If
he
wanted
to
make
a
fool
of
himself
in
his
paper
that
was
his
business
.
)
Mr
.
Underwood
didn
’
t
talk
about
miscarriages
of
justice
,
he
was
writing
so
children
could
understand
.
Mr
.
Underwood
simply
figured
it
was
a
sin
to
kill
cripples
,
be
they
standing
,
sitting
,
or
escaping
.
He
likened
Tom
’
s
death
to
the
senseless
slaughter
of
songbirds
by
hunters
and
children
,
and
Maycomb
thought
he
was
trying
to
write
an
editorial
poetical
enough
to
be
reprinted
in
The
Montgomery
Advertiser
.
How
could
this
be
so
,
I
wondered
,
as
I
read
Mr
.
Underwood
’
s
editorial
.
Senseless
killing
—
Tom
had
been
given
due
process
of
law
to
the
day
of
his
death
;
he
had
been
tried
openly
and
convicted
by
twelve
good
men
and
true
;
my
father
had
fought
for
him
all
the
way
.
Then
Mr
.
Underwood
’
s
meaning
became
clear
:
Atticus
had
used
every
tool
available
to
free
men
to
save
Tom
Robinson
,
but
in
the
secret
courts
of
men
’
s
hearts
Atticus
had
no
case
.
Tom
was
a
dead
man
the
minute
Mayella
Ewell
opened
her
mouth
and
screamed
.
The
name
Ewell
gave
me
a
queasy
feeling
.
Maycomb
had
lost
no
time
in
getting
Mr
.
Ewell
’
s
views
on
Tom
’
s
demise
and
passing
them
along
through
that
English
Channel
of
gossip
,
Miss
Stephanie
Crawford
.
Miss
Stephanie
told
Aunt
Alexandra
in
Jem
’
s
presence
(
"
Oh
foot
,
he
’
s
old
enough
to
listen
.
"
)
that
Mr
.
Ewell
said
it
made
one
down
and
about
two
more
to
go
.
Jem
told
me
not
to
be
afraid
,
Mr
.
Ewell
was
more
hot
gas
than
anything
.
Jem
also
told
me
that
if
I
breathed
a
word
to
Atticus
,
if
in
any
way
I
let
Atticus
know
I
knew
,
Jem
would
personally
never
speak
to
me
again
.
School
started
,
and
so
did
our
daily
trips
past
the
Radley
Place
.
Jem
was
in
the
seventh
grade
and
went
to
high
school
,
beyond
the
grammar
-
school
building
;
I
was
now
in
the
third
grade
,
and
our
routines
were
so
different
I
only
walked
to
school
with
Jem
in
the
mornings
and
saw
him
at
mealtimes
.
He
went
out
for
football
,
but
was
too
slender
and
too
young
yet
to
do
anything
but
carry
the
team
water
buckets
.
This
he
did
with
enthusiasm
;
most
afternoons
he
was
seldom
home
before
dark
.
The
Radley
Place
had
ceased
to
terrify
me
,
but
it
was
no
less
gloomy
,
no
less
chilly
under
its
great
oaks
,
and
no
less
uninviting
.
Mr
.
Nathan
Radley
could
still
be
seen
on
a
clear
day
,
walking
to
and
from
town
;
we
knew
Boo
was
there
,
for
the
same
old
reason
—
nobody
’
d
seen
him
carried
out
yet
.
I
sometimes
felt
a
twinge
of
remorse
,
when
passing
by
the
old
place
,
at
ever
having
taken
part
in
what
must
have
been
sheer
torment
to
Arthur
Radley
—
what
reasonable
recluse
wants
children
peeping
through
his
shutters
,
delivering
greetings
on
the
end
of
a
fishing
-
pole
,
wandering
in
his
collards
at
night
?
And
yet
I
remembered
.
Two
Indian
-
head
pennies
,
chewing
gum
,
soap
dolls
,
a
rusty
medal
,
a
broken
watch
and
chain
.
Jem
must
have
put
them
away
somewhere
.
I
stopped
and
looked
at
the
tree
one
afternoon
:
the
trunk
was
swelling
around
its
cement
patch
.
The
patch
itself
was
turning
yellow
.
