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           "Mr.Radley,"saidJem.

           Mr.Radleyturnedaround.

           "Mr.Radley,ah—didyouputcementinthatholeinthattreedownyonder?"

           "Yes,"hesaid."Ifilleditup."

           "Why’dyoudoit,sir?"

           "Tree’sdying.Youplug‘emwithcementwhenthey’resick.Yououghttoknowthat,Jem."

           Jemsaidnothingmoreaboutituntillateafternoon.Whenwepassedourtreehegaveitameditativepatonitscement,andremaineddeepinthought.Heseemedtobeworkinghimselfintoabadhumor,soIkeptmydistance.

           Asusual,wemetAtticuscominghomefromworkthatevening.WhenwewereatourstepsJemsaid,"Atticus,lookdownyonderatthattree,pleasesir."

           "Whattree,son?"

           "TheoneonthecorneroftheRadleylotcomin’fromschool."

           "Yes?"

           "Isthattreedyin’?"

           "Whyno,son,Idon’tthinkso.Lookattheleaves,they’reallgreenandfull,nobrownpatchesanywhere—"