before Atticus was under the ground good would be to fire Calpurnia.
Jem said it might work if I cried and flung a fit, being young and a girl. That didn’t work either.
But when he noticed us dragging around the neighborhood, not eating,
taking little interest in our normal pursuits, Atticus discovered how deeply frightened we were.
He tempted Jem with a new football magazine one night; when he saw Jem flip the pages and toss it aside,
he said, “What’s bothering you, son?” Jem came to the point: “Mr. Ewell.”
“What has happened?” “Nothing’s happened. We’re scared for you, and we think you oughta do something about him.”
Atticus smiled wryly. “Do what? Put him under a peace bond?”
“When a man says he’s gonna get you, looks like he means it.”
“He meant it when he said it,” said Atticus. “Jem, see if you can stand in Bob Ewell’s shoes a minute.
I destroyed his last shred of credibility at that trial, if he had any to begin with.
The man had to have some kind of comeback, his kind always does.
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