Dr. Reynolds was carrying a big package wrapped in newspaper. He put it down on Jems desk and took off his coat. Youre quite satisfied hes alive, now? Tell you how I knew. When I tried to examine him he kicked me. Had to put him out good and proper to touch him. So scat, he said to me.

Er said Atticus, glancing at Boo. Heck, lets go out on the front porch. There are plenty of chairs out there, and its still warm enough.

I wondered why Atticus was inviting us to the front porch instead of the livingroom, then I understood. The livingroom lights were awfully strong.

We filed out, first Mr. TateAtticus was waiting at the door for him to go ahead of him. Then he changed his mind and followed Mr. Tate.

People have a habit of doing everyday things even under the oddest conditions. I was no exception: Come along, Mr. Arthur, I heard myself saying, you dont know the house real well. Ill just take you to the porch, sir.

He looked down at me and nodded.

I led him through the hall and past the livingroom.

Wont you have a seat, Mr. Arthur? This rocking-chairs nice and comfortable.

My small fantasy about him was alive again: he would be sitting on the porch . . . right pretty spell were having, isnt it, Mr. Arthur?

Yes, a right pretty spell. Feeling slightly unreal, I led him to the chair farthest from Atticus and Mr. Tate. It was in deep shadow. Boo would feel more comfortable in the dark.

Atticus was sitting in the swing, and Mr. Tate was in a chair next to him. The light from the livingroom windows was strong on them. I sat beside Boo.

Well, Heck, Atticus was saying, I guess the thing to dogood Lord, Im losing my memory . . . Atticus pushed up his glasses and pressed his fingers to his eyes. Jems not quite thirteen . . . no, hes already thirteenI cant remember. Anyway, itll come before county court

What will, Mr. Finch? Mr. Tate uncrossed his legs and leaned forward.

Of course it was clear-cut self-defense, but Ill have to go to the office and hunt up

Mr. Finch, do you think Jem killed Bob Ewell? Do you think that?

You heard what Scout said, theres no doubt about it. She said Jem got up and yanked him off herhe probably got hold of Ewells knife somehow in the dark . . . well find out tomorrow.

Mis-ter Finch, hold on, said Mr. Tate. Jem never stabbed Bob Ewell.

Atticus was silent for a moment. He looked at Mr. Tate as if he appreciated what he said. But Atticus shook his head.

Heck, its mighty kind of you and I know youre doing it from that good heart of yours, but dont start anything like that.

Mr. Tate got up and went to the edge of the porch. He spat into the shrubbery, then thrust his hands into his hip pockets and faced Atticus. Like what? he said.

Im sorry if I spoke sharply, Heck, Atticus said simply, but nobodys hushing this up. I dont live that way.

Nobodys gonna hush anything up, Mr. Finch.

Mr. Tates voice was quiet, but his boots were planted so solidly on the porch floorboards it seemed that they grew there. A curious contest, the nature of which eluded me, was developing between my father and the sheriff.

It was Atticuss turn to get up and go to the edge of the porch. He said, Hrm, and spat dryly into the yard. He put his hands in his pockets and faced Mr. Tate.

Heck, you havent said it, but I know what youre thinking. Thank you for it. Jean Louise he turned to me. You said Jem yanked Mr. Ewell off you?

Yes sir, thats what I thought . . . I

See there, Heck? Thank you from the bottom of my heart, but I dont want my boy starting out with something like this over his head. Best way to clear the air is to have it all out in the open. Let the county come and bring sandwiches. I dont want him growing up with a whisper about him, I dont want anybody saying, Jem Finch . . . his daddy paid a mint to get him out of that. Sooner we get this over with the better.

Mr. Finch, Mr. Tate said stolidly, Bob Ewell fell on his knife. He killed himself.

Atticus walked to the corner of the porch. He looked at the wisteria vine. In his own way, I thought, each was as stubborn as the other. I wondered who would give in first. Atticuss stubbornness was quiet and rarely evident, but in some ways he was as set as the Cunninghams. Mr. Tates was unschooled and blunt, but it was equal to my fathers.