To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee

Author:Harper Lee
Format: mobi, epub, azw3, pdf
Tags: Criticism, Literature: Classics, Race relations, Harper - Prose & Criticism, Fathers and daughters, Lee, Family Life, Legal, Fiction, Literary, 20th Century American Literature, General, Coming of Age, Literature - Classics, Classics, Trials (Rape)
ISBN: 9780061743528
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2010-05-11T05:00:00+00:00

15

After many telephone calls, much pleading on behalf of the

defendant, and a long forgiving letter from his mother, it was decided

that Dill could stay. We had a week of peace together. After that,

little, it seemed. A nightmare was upon us.

It began one evening after supper. Dill was over; Aunt Alexandra was

in her chair in the corner, Atticus was in his; Jem and I were on

the floor reading. It had been a placid week: I had minded Aunty;

Jem had outgrown the treehouse, but helped Dill and me construct a new

rope ladder for it; Dill had hit upon a foolproof plan to make Boo

Radley come out at no cost to ourselves (place a trail of lemon

drops from the back door to the front yard and he'd follow it, like an

ant). There was a knock on the front door, Jem answered it and said it

was Mr. Heck Tate.

"Well, ask him to come in," said Atticus.

"I already did. There's some men outside in the yard, they want

you to come out."

In Maycomb, grown men stood outside in the front yard for only two

reasons: death and politics. I wondered who had died. Jem and I went

to the front door, but Atticus called, "Go back in the house."

Jem turned out the livingroom lights and pressed his nose to a

window screen. Aunt Alexandra protested. "Just for a second, Aunty,

let's see who it is," he said.

Dill and I took another window. A crowd of men was standing around

Atticus. They all seemed to be talking at once.

"...movin' him to the county jail tomorrow," Mr. Tate was saying, "I

don't look for any trouble, but I can't guarantee there won't be

any...."

"Don't be foolish, Heck," Atticus said. "This is Maycomb."

"...said I was just uneasy."

"Heck, we've gotten one postponement of this case just to make

sure there's nothing to be uneasy about. This is Saturday," Atticus

said. "Trial'll probably be Monday. You can keep him one night,

can't you? I don't think anybody in Maycomb'll begrudge me a client,

with times this hard."

There was a murmur of glee that died suddenly when Mr. Link Deas

said, "Nobody around here's up to anything, it's that Old Sarum

bunch I'm worried about... can't you get a- what is it, Heck?"

"Change of venue," said Mr. Tate. "Not much point in that, now is

it?"

Atticus said something inaudible. I turned to Jem, who waved me to

silence.

"-besides," Atticus was saying, "you're not scared of that crowd,

are you?"

"...know how they do when they get shinnied up."

"They don't usually drink on Sunday, they go to church most of the

day..." Atticus said.

"This is a special occasion, though..." someone said.

They murmured and buzzed until Aunty said if Jem didn't turn on

the livingroom lights he would disgrace the family. Jem didn't hear

her.

"-don't see why you touched it in the first place," Mr. Link Deas

was saying. "You've got everything to lose from this, Atticus. I

mean everything."

"Do you really think so?"

This was Atticus's dangerous question. "Do you really think you want

to move there, Scout?" Bam, bam, bam, and the checkerboard was swept

clean of my men. "Do you really think that, son? Then read this.

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