TKAM ch. 11- 20

From time to time she would open her mouth wide, and I could see her tongue undulate faintly.

"When he's -riled, has he ever beaten you?"

All the spectators were as relaxed as Judge Taylor, except Jem. His mouth was twisted into a purposeful half-grin, and his eyes happy about, and he said something about corroborating evidence, which made me sure he was showing off.

No truant officers could keep their numerous offspring in school; no public health officer could free them from congenital defects, various worms, and the diseases indigenous to filthy surroundings.

Mollified, Mayella gave Atticus a final terrified glance and said to Mr. Gilmer, "Well sir, I was on the porch and -and he came along and, you see, there was this old chiffarobe in the yard Papa'd brought in to chop up for kindlin'-Papa told me to

I whispered, and got a terse, "Sh-h!"

The beginning of that summer boded well: Jem could do as he pleased;
Calpurnia would do until Dill came.

Thus the dicta No Crawford Minds His Own Business, Every Third Merriweather Is Morbid, The Truth Is Not in the Delafields, All the Bufords Walk Like That, were simply guides to daily living: never take a check from a Delafield without a discreet ca

"Called 'em off on a snipe hunt," was the succinct answer.

I was expecting a tirade, but all she said was, "You may commence reading, Jeremy."

Mayella's hostility, which had subsided to grudging neutrality, flared again.

What Jem did was something I'd do as a matter of course had I not been under Atticus's interdict, which I assumed included not fighting horrible old ladies.

Atticus tried to stifle a smile but didn't make it.

Jem's voice was reverent.

The more affluent chased their food with drugstore Coca-Cola in bulb-shaped soda glasses.

Starkly out of place in a town of square-faced stores and steep-roofed houses, the Maycomb jail was a miniature Gothic joke one cell wide and two cells high, complete with tiny battlements and flying buttresses

I did not remember our mother, but Jem, did-he would tell me about her sometimes-and he went livid when Mrs. Dubose shot us this message.

Atticus's mouth, even, was half-open, an attitude he had once described as uncouth.

Atticus's voice had lost its comfortableness; he was speaking in his arid, detached professional voice.