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"
We
shouldn
’
t
walk
about
in
it
,
"
said
Jem
.
"
Look
,
every
step
you
take
’
s
wasting
it
.
"
I
looked
back
at
my
mushy
footprints
.
Jem
said
if
we
waited
until
it
snowed
some
more
we
could
scrape
it
all
up
for
a
snowman
.
I
stuck
out
my
tongue
and
caught
a
fat
flake
.
It
burned
.
"
Jem
,
it
’
s
hot
!
"
"
No
it
ain
’
t
,
it
’
s
so
cold
it
burns
.
Now
don
’
t
eat
it
,
Scout
,
you
’
re
wasting
it
.
Let
it
come
down
.
"
"
But
I
want
to
walk
in
it
.
"
"
I
know
what
,
we
can
go
walk
over
at
Miss
Maudie
’
s
.
"
Jem
hopped
across
the
front
yard
.
I
followed
in
his
tracks
.
When
we
were
on
the
sidewalk
in
front
of
Miss
Maudie
’
s
,
Mr
.
Avery
accosted
us
.
He
had
a
pink
face
and
a
big
stomach
below
his
belt
.
"
See
what
you
’
ve
done
?
"
he
said
.
"
Hasn
’
t
snowed
in
Maycomb
since
Appomattox
.
It
’
s
bad
children
like
you
makes
the
seasons
change
.
"
I
wondered
if
Mr
.
Avery
knew
how
hopefully
we
had
watched
last
summer
for
him
to
repeat
his
performance
,
and
reflected
that
if
this
was
our
reward
,
there
was
something
to
say
for
sin
.
I
did
not
wonder
where
Mr
.
Avery
gathered
his
meteorological
statistics
:
they
came
straight
from
the
Rosetta
Stone
.
"
Jem
Finch
,
you
Jem
Finch
!
"
