“Thank you sir. Uncle Jack?” “Ma’am?” “What’s a whore-lady?”
Uncle Jack plunged into another long tale about an old Prime Minister who sat in the House of Commons
and blew feathers in the air and tried to keep them there when all about him men were losing their heads.
I guess he was trying to answer my question, but he made no sense whatsoever.
Later, when I was supposed to be in bed, I went down the hall for a drink of water
and heard Atticus and Uncle Jack in the living room: “I shall never marry, Atticus.”
“Why?” “I might have children.” Atticus said, “You’ve a lot to learn, Jack.”
“I know. Your daughter gave me my first lessons this afternoon. She said I didn’t understand children much and told me why.
She was quite right. Atticus, she told me how I should have treated her—oh dear, I’m so sorry I romped on her.”
Atticus chuckled. “She earned it, so don’t feel too remorseful.”
I waited, on tenterhooks, for Uncle Jack to tell Atticus my side of it. But he didn’t.
He simply murmured,Her use of bathroom invective leaves nothing to the imagination.
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