Dill ate, and ate, and ate. He hadn’t eaten since last night.
He used all his money for a ticket, boarded the train as he had done many times, coolly chatted with the conductor,
to whom Dill was a familiar sight, but he had not the nerve to invoke the rule on small children traveling a distance alone
if you’ve lost your money the conductor will lend you enough for dinner and your father will pay him back at the end of the line.
Dill made his way through the leftovers and was reaching for a can of pork and beans in the pantry
when Miss Rachel’s Do-oo Je-sus went off in the hall.
He shivered like a rabbit. He bore with fortitude her Wait Till I Get You Home,
Your Folks Are Out of Their Minds Worryin’, was quite calm during That’s All the Harris in You Coming Out,
smiled at her Reckon You Can Stay One Night, and returned the hug at long last bestowed upon him.
Atticus pushed up his glasses and rubbed his face. “Your father’s tired,” said Aunt Alexandra, her first words in hours, it seemed.
She had been there, but I suppose struck dumb most of the time. “You children get to bed now.”
We left them in the diningroom, Atticus still mopping his face. “From rape to riot to runaways,” we heard him chuckle.
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