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           "Youwould?"

           "Yessir,shehadasmallthroat,anybodycould’areachedarounditwith—"

           "Justanswerthequestionyesorno,please,Sheriff,"saidAtticusdryly,andMr.Tatefellsilent.

           Atticussatdownandnoddedtothecircuitsolicitor,whoshookhisheadatthejudge,whonoddedtoMr.Tate,whorosestifflyandsteppeddownfromthewitnessstand.

           Belowus,headsturned,feetscrapedthefloor,babieswereshiftedtoshoulders,andafewchildrenscamperedoutofthecourtroom.TheNegroesbehinduswhisperedsoftlyamongthemselves;DillwasaskingReverendSykeswhatitwasallabout,butReverendSykessaidhedidn’tknow.Sofar,thingswereutterlydull:nobodyhadthundered,therewerenoargumentsbetweenopposingcounsel,therewasnodrama;agravedisappointmenttoallpresent,itseemed.Atticuswasproceedingamiably,asifhewereinvolvedinatitledispute.Withhisinfinitecapacityforcalmingturbulentseas,hecouldmakearapecaseasdryasasermon.Gonewastheterrorinmymindofstalewhiskeyandbarnyardsmells,ofsleepy-eyedsullenmen,ofahuskyvoicecallinginthenight,"Mr.Finch?Theygone?"Ournightmarehadgonewithdaylight,everythingwouldcomeoutallright.

           AllthespectatorswereasrelaxedasJudgeTaylor,exceptJem.Hismouthwastwistedintoapurposefulhalf-grin,andhiseyeshappyabout,andhesaidsomethingaboutcorroboratingevidence,whichmademesurehewasshowingoff.

           "...RobertE.