She made me soap all over twice, drew fresh water in the tub for each rinse;
she stuck my head in the basin and washed it with Octagon soap and castile.
She had trusted Jem for years, but that night she invaded his privacy and provoked an outburst:
“Can’t anybody take a bath in this house without the whole family lookin‘?”
Next morning she began earlier than usual, to “go over our clothes.”
When Calpurnia stayed overnight with us she slept on a folding cot in the kitchen; that morning it was covered with our Sunday habiliments.
She had put so much starch in my dress it came up like a tent when I sat down.
She made me wear a petticoat and she wrapped a pink sash tightly around my waist.
She went over my patent- leather shoes with a cold biscuit until she saw her face in them.
“It’s like we were goin‘ to Mardi Gras,” said Jem. “What’s all this for, Cal?”
“I don’t want anybody sayin‘ I don’t look after my children,” she muttered.
“Mister Jem, you absolutely can’t wear that tie with that suit. It’s green.”
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