CATCHING Walter Cunningham in the schoolyard gave me some pleasure, but when I was rubbing his nose in the dirt Jem came by and told me to stop. 'You're bigger'n he is,' he said.'
`He's as old as you, nearly,' I said. 'He made me start off on the wrong foot.'
`Let him go, Scout. Why?'
`He didn't have any lunch,' I said, and explained my involve¬ment in Walter's dietary affairs.
Walter had picked himself up and was standing quietly listen¬ing to Jem and me. His fists were half-cocked, as if expecting an onslaught from both of us. I stomped at him to chase him away, but Jem put out his hand and stopped me. He examined Walter with an air of speculation. 'Your daddy Mr Walter Cunningham from Old Sarum?' he asked, and Walter nodded.
Walter looked as if he had been raised on fish food; his eyes, as blue as Dill Harris's, were red-rimmed and watery. There was no colour in his face except at the tip of his nose, which was moistly pink.' He fingered the straps of his overalls, nervously picking at the metal hooks.
Jem suddenly grinned at him. 'Come on home to dinner with us, Walter,' he said. 'We'd be glad to have you.'
Walter's face brightened, then darkened.
Jem said, 'Our daddy's a friend of your daddy's. Scout here, she's crazy – she won't fight you any more.'
`I wouldn't be too certain of that,' I said. Jem's free dispensa¬tion of my pledge irked me, but precious noontime minutes were ticking away. 'Yeah Walter, I won't jump on you again. Don't you like butterbeans? Our Cal's a real good cook.'
Walter stood where he was, biting his lip. Jem and I gave up, and we were nearly to the Radley Place when Walter called, 'Hey, I'm comin'!'
When Walter caught up with us, Jem made pleasant conversa¬tion with him. 'A hain't lives there,' he said cordially, pointing to the Radley house. 'Ever hear about him, Walter?'
`Reckon I have,' said Walter. 'Almost died first year I come to school and et them pecans – folks say he pizened 'em and put 'em over on the school side of the fence.'
`He's as old as you, nearly,' I said. 'He made me start off on the wrong foot.'
`Let him go, Scout. Why?'
`He didn't have any lunch,' I said, and explained my involve¬ment in Walter's dietary affairs.
Walter had picked himself up and was standing quietly listen¬ing to Jem and me. His fists were half-cocked, as if expecting an onslaught from both of us. I stomped at him to chase him away, but Jem put out his hand and stopped me. He examined Walter with an air of speculation. 'Your daddy Mr Walter Cunningham from Old Sarum?' he asked, and Walter nodded.
Walter looked as if he had been raised on fish food; his eyes, as blue as Dill Harris's, were red-rimmed and watery. There was no colour in his face except at the tip of his nose, which was moistly pink.' He fingered the straps of his overalls, nervously picking at the metal hooks.
Jem suddenly grinned at him. 'Come on home to dinner with us, Walter,' he said. 'We'd be glad to have you.'
Walter's face brightened, then darkened.
Jem said, 'Our daddy's a friend of your daddy's. Scout here, she's crazy – she won't fight you any more.'
`I wouldn't be too certain of that,' I said. Jem's free dispensa¬tion of my pledge irked me, but precious noontime minutes were ticking away. 'Yeah Walter, I won't jump on you again. Don't you like butterbeans? Our Cal's a real good cook.'
Walter stood where he was, biting his lip. Jem and I gave up, and we were nearly to the Radley Place when Walter called, 'Hey, I'm comin'!'
When Walter caught up with us, Jem made pleasant conversa¬tion with him. 'A hain't lives there,' he said cordially, pointing to the Radley house. 'Ever hear about him, Walter?'
`Reckon I have,' said Walter. 'Almost died first year I come to school and et them pecans – folks say he pizened 'em and put 'em over on the school side of the fence.'
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