Reckon they wouldnt know what it was if she didnt tell em, whispered Cecil, who was immediately shushed.

The whole town knows it, I breathed.

But the country folksve come in, Cecil said.

Be quiet back there, a mans voice ordered, and we were silent.

The bass drum went boom with every sentence Mrs. Merriweather uttered. She chanted mournfully about Maycomb County being older than the state, that it was part of the Mississippi and Alabama Territories, that the first white man to set foot in the virgin forests was the Probate Judges great-grandfather five times removed, who was never heard of again. Then came the fearless Colonel Maycomb, for whom the county was named.

Andrew Jackson appointed him to a position of authority and Colonel Maycombs misplaced self-confidence and slender sense of direction brought disaster to all who rode with him in the Creek Indian Wars. Colonel Maycomb persevered in his efforts to make the region safe for democracy, but his first campaign was his last. His orders, relayed to him by a friendly Indian runner, were to move south. After consulting a tree to ascertain from its lichen which way was south, and taking no lip from the subordinates who ventured to correct him, Colonel Maycomb set out on a purposeful journey to rout the enemy and entangled his troops so far northwest in the forest primeval that they were eventually rescued by settlers moving inland.

Mrs. Merriweather gave a thirty-minute description of Colonel Maycombs exploits. I discovered that if I bent my knees I could tuck them under my costume and more or less sit. I sat down, listened to Mrs. Merriweathers drone and the bass drums boom and was soon fast asleep.

They said later that Mrs. Merriweather was putting her all into the grand finale, that she had crooned, Po-ork, with a confidence born of pine trees and butterbeans entering on cue. She waited a few seconds, then called, Po-ork? When nothing materialized, she yelled, Pork!

I must have heard her in my sleep, or the band playing Dixie woke me, but it was when Mrs. Merriweather triumphantly mounted the stage with the state flag that I chose to make my entrance. Chose is incorrect: I thought Id better catch up with the rest of them.

They told me later that Judge Taylor went out behind the auditorium and stood there slapping his knees so hard Mrs. Taylor brought him a glass of water and one of his pills.

Mrs. Merriweather seemed to have a hit, everybody was cheering so, but she caught me backstage and told me I had ruined her pageant. She made me feel awful, but when Jem came to fetch me he was sympathetic. He said he couldnt see my costume much from where he was sitting. How he could tell I was feeling bad under my costume I dont know, but he said I did all right, I just came in a little late, that was all. Jem was becoming almost as good as Atticus at making you feel right when things went wrong. Almostnot even Jem could make me go through that crowd, and he consented to wait backstage with me until the audience left.

You wanta take it off, Scout? he asked.

Naw, Ill just keep it on, I said. I could hide my mortification under it.

You all want a ride home? someone said.

No sir, thank you, I heard Jem say. Its just a little walk.

Be careful of haints, the voice said. Better still, tell the haints to be careful of Scout.

There arent many folks left now, Jem told me. Lets go.

We went through the auditorium to the hallway, then down the steps. It was still black dark. The remaining cars were parked on the other side of the building, and their headlights were little help. If some of em were goin in our direction we could see better, said Jem. Here Scout, let me hold onto yourhock. You might lose your balance.

I can see all right.

Yeah, but you might lose your balance. I felt a slight pressure on my head, and assumed that Jem had grabbed that end of the ham. You got me?

Uh huh.

We began crossing the black schoolyard, straining to see our feet. Jem, I said, I forgot my shoes, theyre back behind the stage.

Well lets go get em. But as we turned around, the auditorium lights went off. You can get em tomorrow, he said.

But tomorrows Sunday, I protested, as Jem turned me homeward.

You can get the janitor to let you in . . . Scout?

Hm?