“Miss Mayella,” said Atticus, in spite of himself, “a nineteen-year-old girl like you must have friends. Who are your friends?”The witness frowned as if puzzled. “Friends?”“Yes, don’t you know anyone near your age, or older, or younger? Boys and girls? Just ordinary friends?”Mayella’s hostility, which had subsided to grudging neutrality flared again. “You makin’ fun o’ me agin Mr. Finch?”Atticus let her question answer his.