3 Chapter 3 (1/2)

Catching Walter Cunningham in the schoolyard gave me some pleasure, but when Iwas rubbing his nose in the dirt Jem came by and told me to stop. ”You're bigger'n heis,” he said.

”He's as old as you, nearly,” I said. ”He made me start off on the wrong foot.”

”Let him go, Scout. Why?”

”He didn't have any lunch,” I said, and explained my involvement in Walter's dietaryaffairs.

Walter had picked himself up and was standing quietly listening to Jem and me. Hisfists were half cocked, as if expecting an onslaught from both of us. I stomped at him tochase him away, but Jem put out his hand and stopped me. He examined Walter withan air of speculation. ”Your daddy Mr. Walter Cunningham from Old Sarum?” he asked,and Walter nodded.

Walter looked as if he had been raised on fish food: his eyes, as blue as Dill Harris's,were red-rimmed and watery. There was no color in his face except at the tip of hisnose, which was moistly pink. He fingered the straps of his overalls, nervously picking atthe metal hooks.

Jem suddenly grinned at him. ”Come on home to dinner with us, Walter,” he said.

”We'd be glad to have you.”

Walter's face brightened, then darkened.

Jem said, ”Our daddy's a friend of your daddy's. Scout here, she's crazy—she won'tfight you any more.”

”I wouldn't be too certain of that,” I said. Jem's free dispensation of my pledge irkedme, but precious noontime minutes were ticking away. ”Yeah Walter, I won't jump onyou again. Don't you like butterbeans? Our Cal's a real good cook.”

Walter stood where he was, biting his lip. Jem and I gave up, and we were nearly tothe Radley Place when Walter called, ”Hey, I'm comin'!”

When Walter caught up with us, Jem made pleasant conversation with him. ”A hain'tlives there,” he said cordially, pointing to the Radley house. ”Ever hear about him,Walter?”

”Reckon I have,” said Walter. ”Almost died first year I come to school and et thempecans—folks say he pizened 'em and put 'em over on the school side of the fence.”

Jem seemed to have little fear of Boo Radley now that Walter and I walked besidehim. Indeed, Jem grew boastful: ”I went all the way up to the house once,” he said toWalter.

”Anybody who went up to the house once oughta not to still run every time he passesit,” I said to the clouds above.

”And who's runnin', Miss Priss?”

”You are, when ain't anybody with you.”

By the time we reached our front steps Walter had forgotten he was a Cunningham.

Jem ran to the kitchen and asked Calpurnia to set an extra plate, we had company.

Atticus greeted Walter and began a discussion about crops neither Jem nor I couldfollow.

”Reason I can't pass the first grade, Mr. Finch, is I've had to stay out ever' spring an'

help Papa with the choppin', but there's another'n at the house now that's field size.”

”Did you pay a bushel of potatoes for him?” I asked, but Atticus shook his head at me.

While Walter piled food on his plate, he and Atticus talked together like two men, tothe wonderment of Jem and me. Atticus was expounding upon farm problems whenWalter interrupted to ask if there was any molasses in the house. Atticus summonedCalpurnia, who returned bearing the syrup pitcher. She stood waiting for Walter to helphimself. Walter poured syrup on his vegetables and meat with a generous hand. Hewould probably have poured it into his milk glass had I not asked what the sam hill hewas doing.

The silver saucer clattered when he replaced the pitcher, and he quickly put his handsin his lap. Then he ducked his head.

Atticus shook his head at me again. ”But he's gone and drowned his dinner in syrup,” Iprotested. ”He's poured it all over-”

It was then that Calpurnia requested my presence in the kitchen.

She was furious, and when she was furious Calpurnia's grammar became erratic.

When in tranquility, her grammar was as good as anybody's in Maycomb. Atticus saidCalpurnia had more education than most colored folks.

When she squinted down at me the tiny lines around her eyes deepened. ”There'ssome folks who don't eat like us,” she whispered fiercely, ”but you ain't called on tocontradict 'em at the table when they don't. That boy's yo' comp'ny and if he wants toeat up the table cloth you let him, you hear?”

”He ain't company, Cal, he's just a Cunningham-”

”Hush your mouth! Don't matter who they are, anybody sets foot in this house's yo'comp'ny, and don't you let me catch you remarkin' on their ways like you was so highand mighty! Yo' folks might be better'n the Cunninghams but it don't count for nothin' theway you're disgracin' 'em—if you can't act fit to eat at the table you can just set here andeat in the kitchen!”

Calpurnia sent me through the swinging door to the diningroom with a stinging smack.

I retrieved my plate and finished dinner in the kitchen, thankful, though, that I wasspared the humiliation of facing them again. I told Calpurnia to just wait, I'd fix her: oneof these days when she wasn't looking I'd go off and drown myself in Barker's Eddy andthen she'd be sorry. Besides, I added, she'd already gotten me in trouble once today:

she had taught me to write and it was all her fault. ”Hush your fussin',” she said.

Jem and Walter returned to school ahead of me: staying behind to advise Atticus ofCalpurnia's iniquities was worth a solitary sprint past the Radley Place. ”She likes Jembetter'n she likes me, anyway,” I concluded, and suggested that Atticus lose no time inpacking her off.

”Have you ever considered that Jem doesn't worry her half as much?” Atticus's voicewas flinty. ”I've no intention of getting rid of her, now or ever. We couldn't operate asingle day without Cal, have you ever thought of that? You think about how much Caldoes for you, and you mind her, you hear?”

I returned to school and hated Calpurnia steadily until a sudden shriek shattered myresentments. I looked up to see Miss Caroline standing in the middle of the room, sheerhorror flooding her face. Apparently she had revived enough to persevere in herprofession.

”It's alive!” she screamed.

The male population of the class rushed as one to her assistance. Lord, I thought,she's scared of a mouse. Little Chuck Little, whose patience with all living things wasphenomenal, said, ”Which way did he go, Miss Caroline? Tell us where he went, quick!

D.C.-” he turned to a boy behind him—”D.C., shut the door and we'll catch him. Quick,ma'am, where'd he go?”

Miss Caroline pointed a shaking finger not at the floor nor at a desk, but to a hulkingindividual unknown to me. Little Chuck's face contracted and he said gently, ”You meanhim, ma'am? Yessum, he's alive. Did he scare you some way?”

Miss Caroline said desperately, ”I was just walking by when it crawled out of his hair…just crawled out of his hair-”

Little Chuck grinned broadly. ”There ain't no need to fear a cootie, ma'am. Ain't youever seen one? Now don't you be afraid, you just go back to your desk and teach ussome more.”

Little Chuck Little was another member of the population who didn't know where hisnext meal was coming from, but he was a born gentleman. He put his hand under herelbow and led Miss Caroline to the front of the room. ”Now don't you fret, ma'am,” hesaid. ”There ain't no need to fear a cootie. I'll just fetch you some cool water.” Thecootie's host showed not the faintest interest in the furor he had wrought. He searchedthe scalp above his forehead, located his guest and pinched it between his thumb andforefinger.

Miss Caroline watched the process in horrid fascination. Little Chuck brought water ina paper cup, and she drank it gratefully. Finally she found her voice. ”What is yourname, son?” she asked softly.

The boy blinked. ”Who, me?” Miss Caroline nodded.

”Burris Ewell.”

Miss Caroline inspected her roll-book. ”I have a Ewell here, but I don't have a firstname… would you spell your first name for me?”

”Don't know how. They call me Burris't home.”

”Well, Burris,” said Miss Caroline, ”I think we'd better excuse you for the rest of theafternoon. I want you to go home and wash your hair.”

From her desk she produced a thick volume, leafed through its pages and read for amoment. ”A good home remedy for—Burris, I want you to go home and wash your hairwith lye soap. When you've done that, treat your scalp with kerosene.”

”What fer, missus?”

”To get rid of the—er, cooties. You see, Burris, the other children might catch them,and you wouldn't want that, would you?”

The boy stood up. He was the filthiest human I had ever seen. His neck was darkgray, the backs of his hands were rusty, and his fingernails were black deep into thequick. He peered at Miss Caroline from a fist-sized clean space on his face. No one hadnoticed him, probably, because Miss Caroline and I had entertained the class most ofthe morning.

”And Burris,” said Miss Caroline, ”please bathe yourself before you come backtomorrow.”

The boy laughed rudely. ”You ain't sendin' me home, missus. I was on the verge ofleavin'—I done done my time for this year.”

Miss Caroline looked puzzled. ”What do you mean by that?”

The boy did not answer. He gave a short contemptuous snort.

One of the elderly members of the class answered her: ”He's one of the Ewells,ma'am,” and I wondered if this explanation would be as unsuccessful as my attempt. ButMiss Caroline seemed willing to listen. ”Whole school's full of 'em. They come first dayevery year and then leave. The truant lady gets 'em here 'cause she threatens 'em withthe sheriff, but she's give up tryin' to hold 'em. She reckons she's carried out the law justgettin' their names on the roll and runnin' 'em here the first day. You're supposed tomark 'em absent the rest of the year…”

”But what about their parents?” asked Miss Caroline, in genuine concern.