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           JemandIslidacrossthestreet.MissMaudiewasstaringatthesmokingblackholeinheryard,andAtticusshookhisheadtotellusshedidnotwanttotalk.Heledushome,holdingontoourshoulderstocrosstheicystreet.HesaidMissMaudiewouldstaywithMissStephanieforthetimebeing.

           "Anybodywantsomehotchocolate?"heasked.IshudderedwhenAtticusstartedafireinthekitchenstove.

           AswedrankourcocoaInoticedAtticuslookingatme,firstwithcuriosity,thenwithsternness."IthoughtItoldyouandJemtostayput,"hesaid.

           "Why,wedid.Westayed—"

           "Thenwhoseblanketisthat?"

           "Blanket?"

           "Yesma’am,blanket.Itisn’tours."

           IlookeddownandfoundmyselfclutchingabrownwoolenblanketIwaswearingaroundmyshoulders,squaw-fashion.

           "Atticus,Idon’tknow,sir...I—"

           IturnedtoJemforananswer,butJemwasevenmorebewilderedthanI.Hesaidhedidn’tknowhowitgotthere,wedidexactlyasAtticushadtoldus,westooddownbytheRadleygateawayfromeverybody,wedidn’tmoveaninch—Jemstopped.

           "Mr.Nathanwasatthefire,"hebabbled,"Isawhim,Isawhim,hewastuggin’thatmattress—Atticus,Iswear..."