The third thing happened to Helen Robinson, Toms widow. If Mr. Ewell was as forgotten as Tom Robinson, Tom Robinson was as forgotten as Boo Radley. But Tom was not forgotten by his employer, Mr. Link Deas. Mr. Link Deas made a job for Helen. He didnt really need her, but he said he felt right bad about the way things turned out. I never knew who took care of her children while Helen was away. Calpurnia said it was hard on Helen, because she had to walk nearly a mile out of her way to avoid the Ewells, who, according to Helen, chunked at her the first time she tried to use the public road. Mr. Link Deas eventually received the impression that Helen was coming to work each morning from the wrong direction, and dragged the reason out of her. Just let it be, Mr. Link, please suh, Helen begged. The hell I will, said Mr. Link. He told her to come by his store that afternoon before she left. She did, and Mr. Link closed his store, put his hat firmly on his head, and walked Helen home. He walked her the short way, by the Ewells. On his way back, Mr. Link stopped at the crazy gate.

Ewell? he called. I say Ewell!

The windows, normally packed with children, were empty.

I know every last one of yous in there a-layin on the floor! Now hear me, Bob Ewell: if I hear one more peep outa my girl Helen about not bein able to walk this road Ill have you in jail before sundown! Mr. Link spat in the dust and walked home.

Helen went to work next morning and used the public road. Nobody chunked at her, but when she was a few yards beyond the Ewell house, she looked around and saw Mr. Ewell walking behind her. She turned and walked on, and Mr. Ewell kept the same distance behind her until she reached Mr. Link Deass house. All the way to the house, Helen said, she heard a soft voice behind her, crooning foul words. Thoroughly frightened, she telephoned Mr. Link at his store, which was not too far from his house. As Mr. Link came out of his store he saw Mr. Ewell leaning on the fence. Mr. Ewell said, Dont you look at me, Link Deas, like I was dirt. I aint jumped your

First thing you can do, Ewell, is get your stinkin carcass off my property. Youre leanin on it an I cant afford fresh paint for it. Second thing you can do is stay away from my cook or Ill have you up for assault

I aint touched her, Link Deas, and aint about to go with no nigger!

You dont have to touch her, all you have to do is make her afraid, an if assault aint enough to keep you locked up a while, Ill get you in on the Ladies Law, so get outa my sight! If you dont think I mean it, just bother that girl again!

Mr. Ewell evidently thought he meant it, for Helen reported no further trouble.

I dont like it, Atticus, I dont like it at all, was Aunt Alexandras assessment of these events. That man seems to have a permanent running grudge against everybody connected with that case. I know how that kind are about paying off grudges, but I dont understand why he should harbor onehe had his way in court, didnt he?

I think I understand, said Atticus. It might be because he knows in his heart that very few people in Maycomb really believed his and Mayellas yarns. He thought hed be a hero, but all he got for his pain was . . . was, okay, well convict this Negro but get back to your dump. Hes had his fling with about everybody now, so he ought to be satisfied. Hell settle down when the weather changes.

But why should he try to burgle John Taylors house? He obviously didnt know John was home or he wouldnt have tried. Only lights John shows on Sunday nights are on the front porch and back in his den . . .

You dont know if Bob Ewell cut that screen, you dont know who did it, said Atticus. But I can guess. I proved him a liar but John made him look like a fool. All the time Ewell was on the stand I couldnt dare look at John and keep a straight face. John looked at him as if he were a three-legged chicken or a square egg. Dont tell me judges dont try to prejudice juries, Atticus chuckled.

By the end of October, our lives had become the familiar routine of school, play, study. Jem seemed to have put out of his mind whatever it was he wanted to forget, and our classmates mercifully let us forget our fathers eccentricities. Cecil Jacobs asked me one time if Atticus was a Radical. When I asked Atticus, Atticus was so amused I was rather annoyed, but he said he wasnt laughing at me. He said, You tell Cecil Im about as radical as Cotton Tom Heflin.