Miss Maudie said, Thank you sir, but youve got a job of your own over there. She pointed to our yard.

You mean the Morphodite? I asked. Shoot, we can rake him up in a jiffy.

Miss Maudie stared down at me, her lips moving silently. Suddenly she put her hands to her head and whooped. When we left her, she was still chuckling.

Jem said he didnt know what was the matter with herthat was just Miss Maudie.

9

You can just take that back, boy!

This order, given by me to Cecil Jacobs, was the beginning of a rather thin time for Jem and me. My fists were clenched and I was ready to let fly. Atticus had promised me he would wear me out if he ever heard of me fighting any more; I was far too old and too big for such childish things, and the sooner I learned to hold in, the better off everybody would be. I soon forgot.

Cecil Jacobs made me forget. He had announced in the schoolyard the day before that Scout Finchs daddy defended niggers. I denied it, but told Jem.

Whatd he mean sayin that? I asked.

Nothing, Jem said. Ask Atticus, hell tell you.

Do you defend niggers, Atticus? I asked him that evening.

Of course I do. Dont say nigger, Scout. Thats common.

s what everybody at school says.

From now on itll be everybody less one

Well if you dont want me to grow up talkin that way, why do you send me to school?

My father looked at me mildly, amusement in his eyes. Despite our compromise, my campaign to avoid school had continued in one form or another since my first days dose of it: the beginning of last September had brought on sinking spells, dizziness, and mild gastric complaints. I went so far as to pay a nickel for the privilege of rubbing my head against the head of Miss Rachels cooks son, who was afflicted with a tremendous ringworm. It didnt take.

But I was worrying another bone. Do all lawyers defend n-Negroes, Atticus?

Of course they do, Scout.

Then why did Cecil say you defended niggers? He made it sound like you were runnin a still.

Atticus sighed. Im simply defending a Negrohis names Tom Robinson. He lives in that little settlement beyond the town dump. Hes a member of Calpurnias church, and Cal knows his family well. She says theyre clean-living folks. Scout, you arent old enough to understand some things yet, but theres been some high talk around town to the effect that I shouldnt do much about defending this man. Its a peculiar caseit wont come to trial until summer session. John Taylor was kind enough to give us a postponement . . .

If you shouldnt be defendin him, then why are you doin it?

For a number of reasons, said Atticus. The main one is, if I didnt I couldnt hold up my head in town, I couldnt represent this county in the legislature, I couldnt even tell you or Jem not to do something again.

You mean if you didnt defend that man, Jem and me wouldnt have to mind you any more?

Thats about right.

Why?

Because I could never ask you to mind me again. Scout, simply by the nature of the work, every lawyer gets at least one case in his lifetime that affects him personally. This ones mine, I guess. You might hear some ugly talk about it at school, but do one thing for me if you will: you just hold your head high and keep those fists down. No matter what anybody says to you, dont you let em get your goat. Try fighting with your head for a change . . . its a good one, even if it does resist learning.

Atticus, are we going to win it?

No, honey.

Then, why

Simply because we were licked a hundred years before we started is no reason for us not to try to win, Atticus said.

You sound like Cousin Ike Finch, I said. Cousin Ike Finch was Maycomb Countys sole surviving Confederate veteran. He wore a General Hood type beard of which he was inordinately vain. At least once a year Atticus, Jem and I called on him, and I would have to kiss him. It was horrible. Jem and I would listen respectfully to Atticus and Cousin Ike rehash the war. Tell you, Atticus, Cousin Ike would say, the Missouri Compromise was what licked us, but if I had to go through it agin Id walk every step of the way there an every step back jist like I did before an furthermore wed whip em this time . . . now in 1864, when Stonewall Jackson came around byI beg your pardon, young folks. Ol Blue Light was in heaven then, God rest his saintly brow. . . .