Thats why you dont talk like the rest of em, said Jem.

The rest of who?

Rest of the colored folks. Cal, but you talked like they did in church. . . .

That Calpurnia led a modest double life never dawned on me. The idea that she had a separate existence outside our household was a novel one, to say nothing of her having command of two languages.

Cal, I asked, why do you talk nigger-talk to theto your folks when you know its not right?

Well, in the first place Im black

That doesnt mean you hafta talk that way when you know better, said Jem.

Calpurnia tilted her hat and scratched her head, then pressed her hat down carefully over her ears. Its right hard to say, she said. Suppose you and Scout talked colored-folks talk at homeitd be out of place, wouldnt it? Now what if I talked white-folks talk at church, and with my neighbors? Theyd think I was puttin on airs to beat Moses.

But Cal, you know better, I said.

Its not necessary to tell all you know. Its not ladylikein the second place, folks dont like to have somebody around knowin more than they do. It aggravates em. Youre not gonna change any of them by talkin right, theyve got to want to learn themselves, and when they dont want to learn theres nothing you can do but keep your mouth shut or talk their language.

Cal, can I come to see you sometimes?

She looked down at me. See me, honey? You see me every day.

Out to your house, I said. Sometimes after work? Atticus can get me.

Any time you want to, she said. Wed be glad to have you.

We were on the sidewalk by the Radley Place.

Look on the porch yonder, Jem said.

I looked over to the Radley Place, expecting to see its phantom occupant sunning himself in the swing. The swing was empty.

I mean our porch, said Jem.

I looked down the street. Enarmored, upright, uncompromising, Aunt Alexandra was sitting in a rocking chair exactly as if she had sat there every day of her life.

13

Put my bag in the front bedroom, Calpurnia, was the first thing Aunt Alexandra said. Jean Louise, stop scratching your head, was the second thing she said.

Calpurnia picked up Auntys heavy suitcase and opened the door. Ill take it, said Jem, and took it. I heard the suitcase hit the bedroom floor with a thump. The sound had a dull permanence about it.

Have you come for a visit, Aunty? I asked. Aunt Alexandras visits from the Landing were rare, and she traveled in state. She owned a bright green square Buick and a black chauffeur, both kept in an unhealthy state of tidiness, but today they were nowhere to be seen.

Didnt your father tell you? she asked.

Jem and I shook our heads.

Probably he forgot. Hes not in yet, is he?

Nome, he doesnt usually get back till late afternoon, said Jem.

Well, your father and I decided it was time I came to stay with you for a while.

For a while in Maycomb meant anything from three days to thirty years. Jem and I exchanged glances.

Jems growing up now and you are too, she said to me. We decided that it would be best for you to have some feminine influence. It wont be many years, Jean Louise, before you become interested in clothes and boys

I could have made several answers to this: Cals a girl, it would be many years before I would be interested in boys, I would never be interested in clothes . . . but I kept quiet.

What about Uncle Jimmy? asked Jem. Is he comin, too?

Oh no, hes staying at the Landing. Hell keep the place going.

The moment I said, Wont you miss him? I realized that this was not a tactful question. Uncle Jimmy present or Uncle Jimmy absent made not much difference, he never said anything. Aunt Alexandra ignored my question.

I could think of nothing else to say to her. In fact I could never think of anything to say to her, and I sat thinking of past painful conversations between us: How are you, Jean Louise? Fine, thank you maam, how are you? Very well, thank you; what have you been doing with yourself? Nothin. Dont you do anything? Nome. Certainly you have friends? Yessum. Well what do you all do? Nothin.