Rather than risk a tangle with Calpurnia, I did as Jem told me.
For some reason, my first year of school had wrought a great change in our relationship:
Calpurnia’s tyranny, unfairness, and meddling in my business had faded to gentle grumblings of general disapproval.
On my part, I went to much trouble, sometimes, not to provoke her. Summer was on the way;
Jem and I awaited it with impatience. Summer was our best season:
it was sleeping on the back screened porch in cots, or trying to sleep in the treehouse;
summer was everything good to eat; it was a thousand colors in a parched landscape;
but most of all, summer was Dill. The authorities released us early the last day of school, and Jem and I walked home together.
“Reckon old Dill’ll be coming home tomorrow,” I said. “Probably day after,” said Jem. “Mis’sippi turns ‘em loose a day later.”
As we came to the live oaks at the Radley Place I raised my finger to point for the hundredth time
to the knot-hole where I had found the chewing gum, trying to make Jem believe I had found it there,
and found myself pointing at another piece of tinfoil. “I see it, Scout! I see it—”
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