When we left the courthouse, Jem started to cry. His face was covered in angry tears as we made our way through the cheerful crowd. “It ain’t right,” he muttered, all the way to the corner of the square where we found Atticus waiting for us. Atticus was standing under the street light looking as though nothing had happened: his vest was buttoned, his collar and tie were neatly in place.
“It ain’t right, Atticus,” said Jem.
“No, son, it’s not right.”
“How could they do it, how could they convict Tom if he didn’t do it?”
“I don’t know, son, but they did it. They’ve done it before and they did it tonight and they’ll do it again and when they do it – seems that only children weep.”
The next morning, Calpurnia showed Atticus that the black community had brought all sorts of food for the Finch family. The kitchen table was loaded with enough food to bury the family: hunks of salt pork, tomatoes, beans. Atticus grinned when he found a jar of pickled pigs’ knuckles . Calpurnia said, “This was all ‘round the back steps when I got here this morning. They – they appreciate what you did, Mr. Finch. They – they aren’t oversteppin’ themselves, are they?”
Atticus’s eyes filled with tears. He did not speak for a moment. “Tell them I’m very grateful,” he said. “Tell them – tell them they must never do this again. Times are too hard..”
