Some invisible signal had made the lunchers on the square rise and scatter bits of newspaper, cellophane, and wrapping paper.
Children came to mothers, babies were cradled on hips as men in sweat-stained hats collected their families
and herded them through the courthouse doors.
In the far corner of the square the Negroes and Mr. Dolphus Raymond stood up and dusted their breeches.
There were few women and children among them, which seemed to dispel the holiday mood.
They waited patiently at the doors behind the white families. “Let’s go in,” said Dill.
“Naw, we better wait till they get in, Atticus might not like it if he sees us,” said Jem.
The Maycomb County courthouse was faintly reminiscent of Arlington in one respect:
the concrete pillars supporting its south roof were too heavy for their light burden.
The pillars were all that remained standing when the original courthouse burned in 1856.
Another courthouse was built around them. It is better to say, built in spite of them.
But for the south porch, the Maycomb County courthouse was early Victorian,
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