but I forgot to and now I’m askin’ you.” His paper was now in his lap.
“Again, please,” he said. I told him in detail about our trip to church with Calpurnia.
Atticus seemed to enjoy it, but Aunt Alexandra, who was sitting in a corner quietly sewing, put down her embroidery and stared at us.
“You all were coming back from Calpurnia’s church that Sunday?” Jem said, “Yessum, she took us.”
I remembered something. “Yessum, and she promised me I could come out to her house some afternoon.
Atticus. I’ll go next Sunday if it’s all right, can I? Cal said she’d come get me if you were off in the car.”
“You may not.” Aunt Alexandra said it. I wheeled around, startled,
then turned back to Atticus in time to catch his swift glance at her, but it was too late.
I said, “I didn’t ask you!” For a big man, Atticus could get up and down from a chair faster than anyone I ever knew.
He was on his feet. “Apologize to your aunt,” he said.
“I didn’t ask her, I asked you—” Atticus turned his head and pinned me to the wall with his good eye.
His voice was deadly: “First, apologize to your aunt.” “I’m sorry, Aunty,” I muttered.
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