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           Entailmentsseemedallrightenoughforlivingroomtalk.

           Ibegantofeelsweatgatheringattheedgesofmyhair;Icouldstandanythingbutabunchofpeoplelookingatme.Theywerequitestill.

           "What’sthematter?"Iasked.

           Atticussaidnothing.IlookedaroundandupatMr.Cunningham,whosefacewasequallyimpassive.Thenhedidapeculiarthing.Hesquatteddownandtookmebybothshoulders.

           "I’lltellhimyousaidhey,littlelady,"hesaid.

           Thenhestraightenedupandwavedabigpaw."Let’sclearout,"hecalled."Let’sgetgoing,boys."

           Astheyhadcome,inonesandtwosthemenshuffledbacktotheirramshacklecars.Doorsslammed,enginescoughed,andtheyweregone.

           IturnedtoAtticus,butAtticushadgonetothejailandwasleaningagainstitwithhisfacetothewall.Iwenttohimandpulledhissleeve."Canwegohomenow?"Henodded,producedhishandkerchief,gavehisfaceagoing-overandblewhisnoseviolently.

           "Mr.Finch?"

           Asofthuskyvoicecamefromthedarknessabove:"Theygone?"

           Atticussteppedbackandlookedup."They’vegone,"hesaid."Getsomesleep,Tom.Theywon’tbotheryouanymore."

           Fromadifferentdirection,anothervoicecutcrisplythroughthenight:"You’redamntootin’theywon’t.Hadyoucoveredallthetime,Atticus."

           Mr.Underwoodandadouble-barreledshotgunwereleaningouthiswindowaboveTheMaycombTribuneoffice.

           ItwaslongpastmybedtimeandIwasgrowingquitetired;itseemedthatAtticusandMr