To Kill a Mockingbird

breath. “Well, in the first place you never stopped to gimme a chance to tell you my side of it—you just lit right into me. When Jem an‘ I fuss Atticus doesn’t ever just listen to Jem’s side of it, he hears mine too, an’ in the second place you told me never to use words like that except in ex-extreme provocation, and Francis provocated me enough to knock his block off—”
    Uncle Jack scratched his head. “What was your side of it, Scout?”
    “Francis called Atticus somethin‘, an’ I wasn’t about to take it off him.”
    “What did Francis call him?”
    “A nigger-lover. I ain’t very sure what it means, but the way Francis said it—tell you one thing right now, Uncle Jack, I’ll be—I swear before God if I’ll sit there and let him say somethin‘ about Atticus.”
    “He called Atticus that?”
    “Yes sir, he did, an‘ a lot more. Said Atticus’d be the ruination of the family an’ he let Jem an me run wild…”
    From the look on Uncle Jack’s face, I thought I was in for it again. When he said, “We’ll see about this,” I knew Francis was in for it. “I’ve a good mind to go out there tonight.”
    “Please sir, just let it go. Please.”
    “I’ve no intention of letting it go,” he said. “Alexandra should know about this. The idea of—wait’ll I get my hands on that boy…”
    “Uncle Jack, please promise me somethin‘, please sir. Promise you won’t tell Atticus about this. He—he asked me one time not to let anything I heard about him make me mad, an’ I’d ruther him think we were fightin‘ about somethin’ else instead. Please promise…”
    “But I don’t like Francis getting away with something like that—”
    “He didn’t. You reckon you could tie up my hand? It’s still bleedin‘ some.”
    “Of course I will, baby. I know of no hand I would be more delighted to tie up. Will you come this way?”
    Uncle Jack gallantly bowed me to the bathroom. While he cleaned and bandaged my knuckles, he entertained me with a tale about a funny nearsighted old gentleman who had a cat named Hodge, and who counted all the cracks in the sidewalk when he went to town. “There now,” he said. “You’ll have a very unladylike scar on your wedding-ring finger.”
    “Thank you sir. Uncle Jack?”
    “Ma’am?”
    “What’s a whore-lady?”
    Uncle Jack plunged into another long tale about an old Prime Minister who sat in the House of Commons and blew feathers in the air and tried to keep them there when all about him men were losing their heads. I guess he was trying to answer my question, but he made no sense whatsoever.
    Later, when I was supposed to be in bed, I went down the hall for a drink of water and heard Atticus and Uncle Jack in the livingroom:
    “I shall never marry, Atticus.”
    “Why?”
    “I might have children.”
    Atticus said, “You’ve a lot to learn, Jack.”
    “I know. Your daughter gave me my first lessons this afternoon. She said I didn’t understand children much and told me why. She was quite right. Atticus, she told me how I should have treated her—oh dear, I’m so sorry I romped on her.”
    Atticus chuckled. “She earned it, so don’t feel too remorseful.”
    I waited, on tenterhooks, for Uncle Jack to tell Atticus my side of it. But he didn’t. He simply murmured, “Her use of bathroom invective leaves nothing to the imagination. But she doesn’t know the meaning of half she says—she asked me what a whore-lady was…”
    “Did you tell her?”
    “No, I told her about Lord Melbourne.”
    “Jack! When a child asks you something, answer him, for goodness’ sake. But don’t make a production of it. Children are children, but they can spot an evasion quicker than adults, and evasion simply muddles ‘em. No,” my father mused, “you had the right answer this afternoon, but the wrong reasons. Bad language is a stage all children go through, and it dies with time when they learn they’re not attracting attention with it. Hotheadedness isn’t. Scout’s got to learn to keep her head and learn soon, with what’s in store for her these next few months. She’s coming along, though. Jem’s getting older and she follows his example a good bit now. All she needs is assistance sometimes.”
    “Atticus, you’ve never laid a hand on her.”
    “I admit that. So far I’ve been able to get by with threats. Jack, she minds me as well as she can. Doesn’t come up to scratch half the time, but she tries.”
    “That’s not