If he wanted to stay inside his own house he had the right to stay inside free from the attentions of inquisitive children,
which was a mild term for the likes of us. How would we like it if Atticus barged in on us without knocking, when we were in our rooms at night?
We were, in effect, doing the same thing to Mr. Radley. What Mr. Radley did might seem peculiar to us, but it did not seem peculiar to him.
Furthermore, had it never occurred to us that the civil way to communicate with another being was by the front door instead of a side window?
Lastly, we were to stay away from that house until we were invited there, we were not to play an asinine game he had seen us playing
or make fun of anybody on this street or in this town— “We weren’t makin’ fun of him, we weren’t laughin’ at him,” said Jem,
“we were just—” “So that was what you were doing, wasn’t it?” “Makin’ fun of him?”
“No,” said Atticus, “putting his life’s history on display for the edification of the neighborhood.” Jem seemed to swell a little.
“I didn’t say we were doin’ that, I didn’t say it!” Atticus grinned dryly. “You just told me,” he said.
“You stop this nonsense right now, every one of you.” Jem gaped at him. “You want to be a lawyer, don’t you?”
Our father’s mouth was suspiciously firm, as if he were trying to hold it in line.
Jem decided there was no point in quibbling, and was silent.
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