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We
stopped
,
and
heard
Atticus
’
s
voice
:
"
.
.
.
not
serious
.
.
.
they
all
go
through
it
,
Miss
Rachel
.
.
.
.
"
Dill
was
comforted
,
but
Jem
and
I
weren
’
t
.
There
was
the
problem
of
Jem
showing
up
some
pants
in
the
morning
.
"
’
d
give
you
some
of
mine
,
"
said
Dill
,
as
we
came
to
Miss
Rachel
’
s
steps
.
Jem
said
he
couldn
’
t
get
in
them
,
but
thanks
anyway
.
We
said
good
-
bye
,
and
Dill
went
inside
the
house
.
He
evidently
remembered
he
was
engaged
to
me
,
for
he
ran
back
out
and
kissed
me
swiftly
in
front
of
Jem
.
"
Yawl
write
,
hear
?
"
he
bawled
after
us
.
Had
Jem
’
s
pants
been
safely
on
him
,
we
would
not
have
slept
much
anyway
.
Every
night
-
sound
I
heard
from
my
cot
on
the
back
porch
was
magnified
three
-
fold
;
every
scratch
of
feet
on
gravel
was
Boo
Radley
seeking
revenge
,
every
passing
Negro
laughing
in
the
night
was
Boo
Radley
loose
and
after
us
;
insects
splashing
against
the
screen
were
Boo
Radley
’
s
insane
fingers
picking
the
wire
to
pieces
;
the
chinaberry
trees
were
malignant
,
hovering
,
alive
.
I
lingered
between
sleep
and
wakefulness
until
I
heard
Jem
murmur
.
"
Sleep
,
Little
Three
-
Eyes
?
"
"
Are
you
crazy
?
"
"
Sh
-
h
.
Atticus
’
s
light
’
s
out
.
"
In
the
waning
moonlight
I
saw
Jem
swing
his
feet
to
the
floor
.
"
I
’
m
goin
’
after
‘
em
,
"
he
said
.
I
sat
upright
.
"
You
can
’
t
.
I
won
’
t
let
you
.
"
