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“Mayella Violet Ewell—!” A young girl walked to the witness stand. As she raised her hand and swore that the evidence she gave would be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth so help her God, she seemed somehow fragile-looking.
“Can’t tell yet,” he said. “She’s got enough sense to get the judge sorry for her, but she might be just—oh, I don’t know.”
Mollified, Mayella gave Atticus a final terrified glance and said to Mr. Gilmer,
Jem was squinting down at the witness stand.
"Mr. Tate was pullin‘ me up offa the floor and leadin’ me to the water bucket.” Apparently Mayella’s recital had given her confidence, but it was not her father’s brash kind: there was something stealthy about hers, like a steady-eyed cat with a twitchy tail. “You say you fought him off as hard as you could? Fought him tooth and nail?” asked Mr. Gilmer. “I positively did,” Mayella echoed her father. “You are positive that he took full advantage of you?” Mayella’s face contorted, and I was afraid that she would cry again. Instead, she said, “He done what he was after.”"
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