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           "Ishecomin’,too?"

           "Ohno,he’sstayingattheLanding.He’llkeeptheplacegoing."

           ThemomentIsaid,"Won’tyoumisshim?"Irealizedthatthiswasnotatactfulquestion.UncleJimmypresentorUncleJimmyabsentmadenotmuchdifference,heneversaidanything.AuntAlexandraignoredmyquestion.

           Icouldthinkofnothingelsetosaytoher.InfactIcouldneverthinkofanythingtosaytoher,andIsatthinkingofpastpainfulconversationsbetweenus:Howareyou,JeanLouise?Fine,thankyouma’am,howareyou?Verywell,thankyou,whathaveyoubeendoingwithyourself?Nothin’.Don’tyoudoanything?Nome.Certainlyyouhavefriends?Yessum.Wellwhatdoyoualldo?Nothin’.

           ItwasplainthatAuntythoughtmedullintheextreme,becauseIonceheardhertellAtticusthatIwassluggish.

           Therewasastorybehindallthis,butIhadnodesiretoextractitfromherthen.TodaywasSunday,andAuntAlexandrawaspositivelyirritableontheLord’sDay.IguessitwasherSundaycorset.Shewasnotfat,butsolid,andshechoseprotectivegarmentsthatdrewupherbosomtogiddyheights,pinchedinherwaist,flaredoutherrear,andmanagedtosuggestthatAuntAlexandra’swasonceanhour-glassfigure.Fromanyangle,itwasformidable.

           Theremainderoftheafternoonwentbyinthegentlegloomthatdescendswhenrelativesappear,butwasdispelledwhenweheardacarturninthedriveway.ItwasAtticus,homefromMontgomery.Jem,forgettinghisdignity,ranwithmetomeethim.