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           "YouarethelastpersonIthoughtwouldturnbitteroverthis."

           "I’mnotbitter,justtired.I’mgoingtobed."

           "Atticus—"saidJembleakly.

           Heturnedinthedoorway."What,son?"

           "Howcouldtheydoit,howcouldthey?"

           "Idon’tknow,buttheydidit.They’vedoneitbeforeandtheydidittonightandthey’lldoitagainandwhentheydoit—seemsthatonlychildrenweep.Goodnight."

           Butthingsarealwaysbetterinthemorning.AtticusroseathisusualungodlyhourandwasinthelivingroombehindtheMobileRegisterwhenwestumbledin.Jem’smorningfaceposedthequestionhissleepylipsstruggledtoask.

           "It’snottimetoworryyet,"Atticusreassuredhim,aswewenttothediningroom."We’renotthroughyet.There’llbeanappeal,youcancountonthat.Graciousalive,Cal,what’sallthis?"Hewasstaringathisbreakfastplate.

           Calpurniasaid,"TomRobinson’sdaddysentyoualongthischickenthismorning.Ifixedit."

           "YoutellhimI’mproudtogetit—bettheydon’thavechickenforbreakfastattheWhiteHouse.Whatarethese?"

           "Rolls,"saidCalpurnia."Estelledownatthehotelsent‘em."

           Atticuslookedupather,puzzled,andshesaid,"Youbetterstepouthereandseewhat’sinthekitchen,Mr.Finch."

           Wefollowedhim.Thekitchentablewasloadedwithenoughfoodtoburythefamily:hunksofsaltpork,tomatoes,beans,evenscuppernongs.Atticusgrinnedwhenhefoundajarofpickledpigs’knuckles.