‘YOU can just take that back, boy!’
This order, given by me to Cecil Jacobs was the beginning of a rather thin time for Jem and me. My fists were clenched and I was ready to let fly. Atticus had promised me he would wear me out if he ever heard of me fighting any more; I was far too old and too big for such childish things, and the sooner I learned to hold in, the better off everybody would be. I soon forgot.
Cecil Jacobs made me forget. He had announced in the school-yard the day before that Scout Finch's daddy defended niggers. I denied it, but told Jem.
‘What’d he mean sayin’ that?’ I asked.
‘Nothing,’ Jem said. ‘Ask Atticus, he’ll tell you.’
‘Do you defend niggers, Atticus?’ I asked him that evening.
‘Of course I do. Don’t say nigger. Scout. That’s common.’
‘ ’s what everybody at school says.’
‘From now on it’ll be everybody less one—’
‘Well if you don’t want me to grow up talkin’ that way, why do you send me to school?’
My father looked at me mildly, amusement in his eyes. Despite our compromise, my campaign to avoid school had continued in one form or another since my first day’s dose of it; the beginning of last September had brought on sinking spells, dizziness, and mild gastric complaints. I went so far as to pay a nickel for the privilege of rubbing my head against the head of Miss Rachel’s cook’s son, who was afflicted with a tremendous ringworm. It didn’t take.
But I was worrying another bone. ‘Do all lawyers defend n-Negroes, Atticus ?’
‘Of course they do, Scout.’
This order, given by me to Cecil Jacobs was the beginning of a rather thin time for Jem and me. My fists were clenched and I was ready to let fly. Atticus had promised me he would wear me out if he ever heard of me fighting any more; I was far too old and too big for such childish things, and the sooner I learned to hold in, the better off everybody would be. I soon forgot.
Cecil Jacobs made me forget. He had announced in the school-yard the day before that Scout Finch's daddy defended niggers. I denied it, but told Jem.
‘What’d he mean sayin’ that?’ I asked.
‘Nothing,’ Jem said. ‘Ask Atticus, he’ll tell you.’
‘Do you defend niggers, Atticus?’ I asked him that evening.
‘Of course I do. Don’t say nigger. Scout. That’s common.’
‘ ’s what everybody at school says.’
‘From now on it’ll be everybody less one—’
‘Well if you don’t want me to grow up talkin’ that way, why do you send me to school?’
My father looked at me mildly, amusement in his eyes. Despite our compromise, my campaign to avoid school had continued in one form or another since my first day’s dose of it; the beginning of last September had brought on sinking spells, dizziness, and mild gastric complaints. I went so far as to pay a nickel for the privilege of rubbing my head against the head of Miss Rachel’s cook’s son, who was afflicted with a tremendous ringworm. It didn’t take.
But I was worrying another bone. ‘Do all lawyers defend n-Negroes, Atticus ?’
‘Of course they do, Scout.’
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