I guess it ain’t your fault if Uncle Atticus is a nigger-lover besides, but I’m here to tell you it certainly does mortify the rest of the family—
Francis, what the hell do you mean?” “Just what I said.
Grandma says it’s bad enough he lets you all run wild, but now he’s turned out a nigger-lover
we’ll never be able to walk the streets of Maycomb agin. He’s ruinin‘ the family, that’s what he’s doin’.
Francis rose and sprinted down the catwalk to the old kitchen. At a safe distance he called, “He’s nothin‘ but a nigger-lover!”
“He is not!” I roared. “I don’t know what you’re talkin‘ about, but you better cut it out this red hot minute!”
I leaped off the steps and ran down the catwalk. It was easy to collar Francis.
I said take it back quick. Francis jerked loose and sped into the old kitchen.
“Nigger-lover!” he yelled. When stalking one’s prey, it is best to take one’s time.
Say nothing, and as sure as eggs he will become curious and emerge. Francis appeared at the kitchen door.
“You still mad, Jean Louise?” he asked tentatively. “Nothing to speak of,” I said.
Francis came out on the catwalk. “You gonna take it back, Fra—ancis?” But I was too quick on the draw.
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