“On the porch.” “Which porch?” “Ain’t but one, the front porch.”
“What were you doing on the porch?” “Nothin’.” Judge Taylor said, “Just tell us what happened. You can do that, can’t you?”
Mayella stared at him and burst into tears. She covered her mouth with her hands and sobbed.
Judge Taylor let her cry for a while, then he said, “That’s enough now. Don’t be ‘fraid of anybody here, as long as you tell the truth.
All this is strange to you, I know, but you’ve nothing to be ashamed of and nothing to fear.
What are you scared of?” Mayella said something behind her hands. “What was that?” asked the judge. “Him,” she sobbed, pointing at Atticus.
“Mr. Finch?” She nodded vigorously, saying, “Don’t want him doin’ me like he done Papa, tryin’ to make him out left-handed…”
Judge Taylor scratched his thick white hair. It was plain that he had never been confronted with a problem of this kind.
“How old are you?” he asked. “Nineteen-and-a-half,” Mayella said.
Judge Taylor cleared his throat and tried unsuccessfully to speak in soothing tones.
“Mr. Finch has no idea of scaring you,” he growled, “and if he did, I’m here to stop him.
That’s one thing I’m sitting up here for. Now you’re a big girl, so you just sit up straight
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