Chapter 24 Chapter Twenty-Four

Calpurnia put on her perfectly starched apron, held a plate of fruit panna cotta in her hand, leaned against the swing door with her back, pushed it open, and spun in.She held up a large plate full of delicious snacks, and her movements were so light and graceful, I was so impressed.I guess Aunt Alexandra did the same, which is why I asked Calpurnia to serve the dessert. August is coming to an end, and September is approaching.Dill was going back to Meridian tomorrow, and today he and Jem went to Buck's Bay.Jem was amazed and somewhat indignant to find that Dill had not been taught to swim, a skill which he considered as necessary as walking.They've been in that creek for two afternoons, claiming they're going to swim naked, so I can't go, so I've got nothing to do with Calpurnia or Miss Maudie.

Today, Aunt Alexandra and her mission continue to fight for faith and principle in our home.In the kitchen I heard Mrs. Merriweather giving a lecture in the living room, talking about the squalid, chaotic life of the African Mona, as if it was just for me: whether the women in their families were about to have children or something They will be thrown in the hut outside; they have no family concept, and even force thirteen-year-old children to undergo severe tests-I know that having no family concept is what makes my aunt most distressed and distressed; Infested with Indian pox and full of moth flies; they chewed the bark in their mouths and spat it into a communal pot from which they all drank until they were quite drunk.

When the party is over, the ladies will start to enjoy refreshments. I don't know if I should go into the restaurant or stay outside.Aunt Alexandra asked me to join them for dessert, and said I didn't have to go to their formal parties, which would bore me.I was wearing a pink Sunday dress with a petticoat and special shoes.I thought to myself, if I accidentally spill something on the gown, Calpurnia will have to wash it again so I can wear it to church tomorrow.She's busy enough today, so I decided to stay out. "Calpurnia, is there anything I can do for you?" I asked.That's when I really wish I could help.

Calpurnia paused at the door. "Just stay in that corner obediently and be as quiet as a little mouse." She said, "When I come back, you can help me with the plate." As soon as she opened the door, the ladies' whispers amplified many times over: "Geez, Alexandra, I've never seen such a good panna cotta...so cute...I just can't make it Never had such a good dough... Who would have thought of making such a small raspberry tart... Calpurnia?... Who would have thought... Did you hear that Mrs. Pastor has it again... No Heard? It's true, the other one can't walk yet..."

When I heard them gradually quiet down, I knew that there were refreshments in front of them.Calpurnia went back to the kitchen and put the heavy silver jug ​​my mother had left on the tray. "This coffee pot is a rare item," she said to herself, "no one makes it anymore." "Can I bring it in for you?" "Just be careful you don't drop your hand. Put the coffee pot on the table at Miss Alexandra's end, with the cups and all, and she'll pour tea for everybody." I followed Calpurnia's example and tried to push the door with my back, but the door wouldn't budge.Calpurnia grinned and propped the door open for me. "Be careful, the tray is very heavy. As long as you don't look at it, the pot won't spill."

When I successfully completed the journey, Aunt Alexandra had a big smile on her face. "Joan Louise, stay with us for a while," she said.This is also part of her lady education for me. It was their custom that each of the rotating hostesses invite their neighbors to the house for tea-whether they were Baptist or Presbyterian, so Miss Rachel, Miss Maudie and Stephanie The ladies are all guests.Miss Rachel looked serious, like a judge.I was a little nervous, so I sat down next to Miss Maudie, and I wondered: Why do these ladies wear hats when they're just dropping by across the street?Sitting with a group of women always gave me a vague dread of running away, but that feeling was what Aunt Alexandra called being "spoiled."

Ladies looked cool in printed dresses in sheer fabrics and pastel colours.Most of them had a thick layer of foundation on their faces, no rouge, all their lips were painted with "Tangji Natural" lipstick, and "Courtex Natural" nail polish shone on their fingertips— However, there are a few young ladies who use Rose brand nail polish.The smell in the room is like heaven.I sat in silence, gripping the arm of the chair so that my hands would not rest.I wait for someone to talk to me. The frame of the false teeth in Miss Maudie's mouth gleamed golden. "Miss Jean Louise, you're well dressed," she said. "Where are your trousers?"

"Under the skirt." I didn't mean to be funny, but the ladies burst out laughing.I realized I had said the wrong thing, and my cheeks were burning hot.But Miss Maudie looked down at me, very gravely.She never laughed at me unless I was being funny on purpose. There was a sudden silence, and Miss Stephanie, who was sitting across the room, called out to me, "Jean Louise, what do you want to be when you grow up? A lawyer?" "I don't know, I haven't thought about it..." I replied, grateful for a moment to Miss Stephanie's kindness in changing the subject.In a hurry, I began to choose my profession - nurse?pilot? "how to say……"

"Frankly speaking, I thought you wanted to be a lawyer. Haven't you already started going to court?" The ladies laughed again. "This Stephanie really knows how to make moves." Someone commented.Miss Stephanie was encouraged, and she chased after her more and more: "Don't you want to be a lawyer when you grow up?" Miss Maudie touched my hand, and I replied, as gently as I could, "No, I just want to be a lady." Miss Stephanie looked at me with puzzled eyes, and concluded that I did not intend to be rude, so she said with satisfaction: "You, if you wear more skirts, you will not be far from a lady."

Miss Maudie held my hand tightly, and I said nothing.It is enough to have this hand to keep me warm. Mrs. Merriweather sat on my left, and I thought it a matter of courtesy to say a few words to her.Mrs. Merriweather's Christian name is "Grace", and her husband, Mr. Merriweather, is a forced Methodist and has a very devout belief. Whenever he sings "Amazing Grace, how sweet, save me Poor man...", obviously without personal emotion.In Maycomb, however, it was generally believed that Mrs. Merriweather had made him a more or less useful citizen.Mrs. Merriweather was without a doubt the most devout lady in Maycomb.I searched for a topic that would interest her. "What were you discussing this afternoon?" I asked.

"Oh, boy, it's about those poor Monas," was all she said.It seemed I didn't need to ask any more questions at all. Mrs. Merriweather's large brown eyes filled with tears at the mention of the miserable. "They live there in the jungle with only the Reverend J. Grimes Everett with them," she said, "except for J. Reverend Ritter, no white man wants to go near them." Mrs. Merriweather's voice sounded as if from an organ, and every word rhymed: "Poverty...darkness...depravity--all in the mind of the Reverend J. Grimes Everett Understood. I tell you, when the church sent me to camp, the Reverend J. Grimes Everett said to me..." "Ma'am, was he there too? I thought..." "He was coming back on vacation. The Reverend J. Grimes Everett said something to me, and he said, 'Mrs. No concept.'” "Yes, ma'am." "I said to him, 'Mr. Everett, all the ladies of our Southern Division of the Methodist Episcopal Church in Maycomb County, Alabama stand behind you 100 percent.' That's what I said to him You know, I made a secret vow at that time. I said to myself, when I go back, I’m going to tell everyone about the Mona people, and I’m going to tell the Reverend J. Grimes Everett The word got through to Maycomb. That's what I'm doing now." "Yes, ma'am." Mrs. Merriweather shook her head, her dark curls twitching slightly. "Jean Louise," she said, "you're a lucky girl who lives in a small Christian town in a Christian family surrounded by Christians. But, in J The Reverend Grimes Everett preached in a land where there was nothing but sin and poverty." "Yes, ma'am." "Sin and poverty—what do you say, Gertrude?" said Mrs. Merriweather, turning to the lady on the other side of her, in a recitative tone, "Oh, that. How should I say it, I Repeatedly emphasize not to remember the old evil, not to remember the old evil. Their church should help her and guide her to follow a Christian lifestyle from now on, even for those children. They should send someone to their church and let the pastor there encourage her. " "Excuse me, Mrs. Merriweather," I interrupted, "are you talking about Mayella Ewell?" "Majella? No, boy, I mean the black person's wife. Tom's wife, Tom..." "It's Tom Robinson, ma'am." Mrs. Merriweather turned again to her neighbor. "I'm sure of it, Gertrude," she went on, "but some people just can't see it the way I do. If we let them know, we forgive them, we forget about it, Then it's all over." "Oh—Mrs. Merriweather," I interrupted her again, "what did you say it's over?" Mrs. Merriweather turned to face me again.She was the kind of person who didn't have children of her own and felt the need to use a different tone every time she spoke to a child. "Nothing, Jean Louise," she said to me, in a dignified, slow tone, "the cooks and field hands were very dissatisfied, but that has subsided now—after that trial, they were all aggrieved. all day." Mrs. Merriweather looked at Mrs. Farrow and said: "Listen, Gertrude, there's nothing more disturbing than dark-faced niggers. Their mouths hang down here. If you had You can't be in a good mood with such a cook in your kitchen all day long. Gertrude, do you know how I enlightened my Sophie? I said: 'Sophie, don't you look like this today? Like a christian. jesus christ never went around complaining and whining.' you know what, that's a good line. she lifted her eyes off the floor and said to me, 'yes , ma'am, Jesus Christ never went around whining. 'I tell you, Gertrude, don't ever pass up a chance to witness for God.' I couldn't help but think of the old little organ in the chapel at Finch Manor.When I was very young, if I behaved all day, Atticus would make me do the drums while he played a tune with one finger.The last note he played always lingered in the air until the air in the bellows was exhausted.As far as I can judge, Mrs. Merriweather has just been out of breath and is filling it up again while Mrs. Farrow is delivering a tirade. Mrs. Farrow was a curvaceous woman with pale eyes and thin feet.Her hair was freshly permed, and her head was covered in fine gray curls.This lady was the second most devout Catholic woman in Maycomb.She has a strange habit of making a soft "hissing" sound when she speaks, as if adding an introduction to each sentence. "Ss-ss-Grace," she said, "that's exactly what I said to Brother Hutson the other day. 'Sss-Brother Hartson,' I said, 'it looks like our fight Doomed to fail, doomed to fail.' I said, 'Ss-ss--it doesn't make a dent in them. We can educate them till we're exhausted, or we can work so hard to reform them I'm a Christian, but these days, ladies aren't even safe in their own beds at night.' He said to me, 'Mrs. Farrow, I didn't think we'd come to this.' Hiss— —I told him it was an indisputable fact." Mrs. Merriweather nodded knowingly.She raised her voice suddenly, over the crisp clink of coffee cups, and the soft sound of the ladies chewing their pastry, like cows grazing. "Gertrude," she said, "I tell you, there are some good people who go astray in this town. Good people, but they go astray. I'm talking about the town who thinks they're doing justice I don't need to name them who they are. Not long ago, some of them thought what they were doing was justified, but it only turned out to incite them. That's what they did. Maybe it looked like the right thing to do at the time, I can't tell, I haven't read about it, but those sullen...indignant...I'll tell you the truth If our Sophie puts on that face again one day, I will let her go. She doesn't even think about it, the reason I keep her at home is because the Great Depression is catching up with her, and she needs that every day. Living on a dollar and twenty-five cents a week." "Won't the refreshments prepared by his family choke people?" Miss Maudie suddenly said this.Two deep lines appeared on the corners of her mouth.She sat next to me, her coffee cup resting firmly on her lap, and remained silent.Since they stopped talking about Tom Robinson's wife, I couldn't figure out what they were talking about, and just had fun thinking about Finch Park and the river.Aunt Alexandra, it seems, had it the other way around: their formal gatherings were blood-curdling, and the small talk parts were dull and boring. "Maudie, I don't know what you mean by that," said Mrs. Merriweather. "You must know." Miss Maudie replied coldly. She didn't say another word.When Miss Maudie was angry, her words were as cold as ice.At this moment, she was deeply irritated, her gray eyes were as cold as her voice.Mrs. Merriweather blushed, gave me a quick glance, and then looked away.Through her, I couldn't see Mrs. Farrow's expression. Aunt Alexandra stood up from the table, passed the snacks to everyone deftly, and cleverly introduced Mrs. Merriweather and Mrs. Gates into a light topic.Aunt Alexandra withdrew after bringing Mrs. Perkins in and getting the three of them talking.She gave Miss Maudie a grateful glance that made me wonder at the world of women.The relationship between Miss Maudie and Aunt Alexandra had never been close, but just now Auntie was thanking her silently.Why is this?I can't figure it out.However, I couldn't help but be glad to see that Aunt Alexandra was also touched by friendship and grateful for the help of others.There is no doubt that I will soon have to enter their world-on the surface, this world is just a group of ladies exuding the fragrance of powder, sitting in rocking chairs slowly shaking, gently waving fans, drinking slowly Drinking ice water. Still, I felt more at home in my dad's world.A man like Mr. Heck Tate would never trick a child with childish questions, and then make a joke of it; and even Jem wouldn't be mean unless you said The words are really stupid.Ladies seem to have a vague fear of men, as if reluctant to praise them unreservedly.But I feel good about them.No matter how much they swear, how much they drink, how much they gamble, how much they chew tobacco, no matter how unpleasant they are, there's something about them that I instinctively like...because they're not... "Hypocrites, Mrs. Perkins, they're born hypocrites," said Mrs. Merriweather. "At least we Southerners aren't charged with that. The Yankees gave them their liberty, but there's no Yankee sitting at their table." Let's eat. At least we don't pretend to say that you are the same people as us, but please stay away. In our south, we just say, you live your life and we live our life , have nothing to do with each other. I think that woman, that Mrs. Roosevelt, must be crazy-to go to Birmingham to sit with them, she is completely out of her head. If I were the mayor of Birmingham, I would ..." Well, neither of us is the mayor of Birmingham, but I really hope I'll be governor of Alabama someday so I can issue an urgent order to release Tom Robinson immediately and let the Mission The people here don't even have a chance to breathe.A few days ago, Calpurnia was telling Miss Rachel's cook how hopeless Tom was about his situation, and I happened to come into the kitchen, and Calpurnia didn't stop when she saw me.There was nothing Atticus could do to make life easier for Tom in prison, she said.Tom's last words to Atticus before he was taken to prison were: "Goodbye, Mr. Finch. There is nothing you can do now, no more effort." Calpurnia said, and Atticus told Because of her, Tom gave up all hope on the day he went to prison.She said Atticus explained everything to Tom, telling him to try to pull himself together and not to despair because Atticus had been doing everything he could to get him free.Miss Rachel's cook asked Calpurnia why Atticus hadn't given him a sure word that he would come out, that is to say--which might have been a great comfort to Tom's heart.Calpurnia said: "You can tell you don't know the law when you say it. The first thing you learn in a family of lawyers is that there are no decisions. Mr. Finch can't just mess around like that until he's sure of it." Say." The front door slammed, and then Atticus' footsteps were heard in the corridor.A question immediately popped into my mind: what time is it?It felt like it was too early for him to go home, and on mission day, he usually stayed in town until dark. He stopped at the door, hat in hand, pale. "I'm sorry, ladies," he said, "you get on with the party and leave me alone. Alexandra, can you come into the kitchen? I want to borrow Calpurnia." Instead of passing through the dining room, he walked around the aisle leading to the back door and entered the kitchen through the back door.Aunt Alexandra and I had just joined him there when the door of the dining room opened and Miss Maudie entered.Calpurnia was also getting up from her chair. "Calpurnia," said Atticus, "I want you to come with me to Helen Robinson's..." "What's the matter?" asked Aunt Alexandra.She was horrified by the look on my father's face. "Tom is dead." Aunt Alexandra immediately covered her mouth. "He was shot," said Atticus. "He was trying to run away. It was the time of the wind. It is said that he suddenly went crazy, screaming and screaming, rushed to the fence, and tried to climb up. right in front of them..." "Didn't they stop it? Couldn't they warn?" Aunt Alexandra's voice trembled. "Oh, they stopped. The guards who were watching ordered him to stop. They fired a few shots into the air before they shot at Tom. Just as he was about to climb over the fence, the bullet hit him. He was said to be very Come on, if he's got both arms, he'll probably get away. He's got seventeen bullet holes. There's no need for them to shoot that many. Calpurnia, I want you to come with me, help I broke the news to Helen." "Yes, sir," Calpurnia murmured, fumbling awkwardly with her apron.Miss Maudie went and unfastened her apron. "They've had it too, Atticus," said Aunt Alexandra. "It depends on how you look at it," he said. "What's a black person among two hundred prisoners? He's not Tom to them, but a prisoner who's going to get away. " Atticus leaned against the refrigerator, pushed up his glasses, and rubbed his eyes. "We had a pretty good chance of winning," he said. "I told him what I thought, but I couldn't say anything more than that we had a good chance of winning. I guess Tom got tired of it. Rather than waiting for a white man to give him a chance, he would rather take the risk himself. Are you ready, Calpurnia?" "All right, Mr. Finch." "Let's go." Aunt Alexandra sank into the chair Calpurnia had been sitting in, her face in her hands.She was motionless and did not make a sound, and I almost doubted whether she had passed out.I heard Miss Maudie wheezing, as if she had just climbed the stairs, and the ladies in the dining-room were laughing and talking. I thought Aunt Alexandra was sobbing, but when she took her hands from her face I realized she wasn't crying.She looked haggard and her voice was dry when she spoke. "Modi, I can't say that I approve of everything he has done, but he is my brother. I just want to know when this matter will be settled." She raised her voice slightly, "He was tossed so hard Falling apart. It doesn't look like it, but I know he's falling apart. I've seen him sometimes... What else do they want from him? Modi, what else do they want? " "What does anyone want, Alexandra?" asked Miss Maudie. "I mean the people in this town. What they dare not do themselves, they wish someone would go through fire and water--so they don't lose a penny. They wish someone would violate their bodies and do what they dare not do Things are up, they..." "Stop it, they'll hear," said Miss Maudie. "Alexandra, has it ever occurred to you? Whether the people of Maycomb know it or not, we honor him as a man in the world With the highest respect that can be received. We firmly believe that he is doing justice. It's as simple as that." "Who?" Aunt Alexandra would never have guessed, repeating the question her twelve-year-old nephew had asked. “In our town, there are still a few people who believe that the principle of equality does not only apply to white people; there are still a few people who believe that a fair trial should apply to everyone, not just us; Humility, when you see black people, you will think of yourself without God's mercy." Miss Maudie resumed her crisp tone, "They are people with a background in this town. They are the people. " If I had listened I could have added a note to Jem's definition of "background," but I was shaking uncontrollably.I've seen Enfield Prison Farm with my own eyes, and Atticus showed me the grounds where the convicts let out, about the size of a rugby field. "Don't tremble," ordered Miss Maudie, and I actually stopped. "Stand up, Alexandra, we've been out for too long." Aunt Alexandra stood up, smoothed the whalebone skirt around her hips, wiped her nose with a handkerchief from her belt, and patted her hair. "Can you see that?" "Not at all," said Miss Maudie. "Jean Louise, are you going in with me?" "Yes, miss." "Then we'll join the ladies." Her voice was grim. As soon as Miss Maudie opened the door to the dining-room, the voices within swelled and rushed towards us.Aunt Alexandra was walking ahead of me, and I noticed her head held high as she entered. "Oh, Mrs. Perkins," she called, "you need some coffee. Let me." "Calpurnia's going out for a while," said Miss Maudie. "Grace, let me get you some raspberry tarts. Did you hear about my cousin? The one who likes to fish Cousin..." They circled around in the restaurant, taking care of the group of talking and laughing ladies, pouring coffee and handing out snacks, as if their only trouble was that Calpurnia went out temporarily, and there was no one to do housework, and they were temporarily in a hurry . The dining room hummed softly again. "Yes, Mrs. Perkins, that Reverend J. Grimes Everett is such a suffering saint, he...needs to get married, and so they go... every Saturday afternoon Went to the beauty parlor... and the sun went down not long after. He went to bed... chickens, a cage of sick chickens. Fred said it all started from that. Fred also said..." Aunt Alexandra looked at me from across the room, smiling.She looked at the cookie tray on the table and lifted her chin toward me.I understood, picked up the tray carefully, went up to Mrs. Merriweather, showed my most respectful hospitality, and asked her if she would like some dollars.Anyway, if my aunt can be ladylike at times like this, so can I.