Miss Maudie yelled for Jem Finch to come there. Jem groaned and heaved himself up from the swing.
“We’ll go with you,” Dill said. Miss Stephanie’s nose quivered with curiosity.
She wanted to know who all gave us permission to go to court—she didn’t see us
but it was all over town this morning that we were in the Colored balcony.
Did Atticus put us up there as a sort of—? Wasn’t it right close up there with all those—?
Did Scout understand all the —? Didn’t it make us mad to see our daddy beat?
“Hush, Stephanie.” Miss Maudie’s diction was deadly.
I’ve not got all the morning to pass on the porch—Jem Finch, I called to find out if you and your colleagues can eat some cake.
Got up at five to make it, so you better say yes. Excuse us, Stephanie. Good morning, Mr. Avery.”
There was a big cake and two little ones on Miss Maudie’s kitchen table. There should have been three little ones.
It was not like Miss Maudie to forget Dill, and we must have shown it.
But we understood when she cut from the big cake and gave the slice to Jem.
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