Nothin' to it. I swear, Scout, sometimes you act so much like a girl, it's mortifyin' PAGE 41

when they are outside the Radley house and Jem doesn't want to go because of her little sister

"Two live oaks stood at the end of the Radley lot; their roots reached into the sideroad and made it bumpy. Something about one of the trees attracted my attention.

"Tinfoil was sticking out of a knothole just above my eye level, winking at me in the afternoon sun. I stood on my tiptoe, hastily looked around once more, reached into the hole, and withdrew two pieces of chewing gum minus their outer wrappers."

Jem is going through a bit of an egyptian phase. "Scout" Gaining a lot of wisdom

Jem, see if you can stand in Bob Ewell's shoes a minute. I destroyed his last shred of credibility at that trial, if he had any to begin with. The man had to have some kind of comeback, his kind always does. So if spitting in my face and threatening me saved Mayella Ewell one extra beaating, that's something i'll gladly take. He had to take it out on somebody and I'd rather it be me than that houseful of children out there. You understand? Page 238

"I know what we are going to play," he announced. "Something new, something different. […] Boo Radley."

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School started, and so did our daily trips past the Radley Place. Jem was in the seventh grade and went to high school, beyond the grammarschool building; I was now in the third grade, and our routines were so different I only walked to school with Jem in the mornings and saw him at meal times. He went out for football, but was too slender and too young yet to do anything but carry the team water buckets.

During the novel Jem grows into much more than just a boy, he becomes a much more fatherly figure to Scout, instructing her, telling her what to do, trying to control her decisions and they begin to drift. Other grown ups including alpurnia begin refering to Jem as sir or Mister Jem.

It was Jem's turn to cry. His face was streaked with angry tears as we made our way through the cheerful crowd. "It ain't right," he muttered, all the way to the corner of the square where we found Atticus waiting. Atticus was standing under the street light looking as though nothing had happened: his vest was buttoned, his collar and tie were neatly in place, his watchchain glistened, he was his impassive self again.

"It ain't right, Atticus," said Jem.

"No son, it's not right."

Jem heard me. He thrust his head around the connecting door. As he came to my bed Atticus's light flashed on. We stayed where we were until it went off; we heard him turn over, and we waited until he was still again.

Jem took me to his room and put me in bed beside him. "Try to go to sleep," he said. "It'll be all over after tomorrow, maybe."

His rights arm was somewhat shorter than his left page 1

School started, and so did our daily trips past the Radley Place. Jem was in the seventh grade and went to high school, beyond the grammarschool building; I was now in the third grade, and our routines were so different I only walked to school with Jem in the mornings and saw him at meal times. He went out for football, but was too slender and too young yet to do anything but carry the team water buckets.