To Kill a Mockingbird
Chapter 15
By Harper Lee
After a lot of begging, Atticus let Dill stay the next few days in Maycomb. We kept playing and trying to get Boo to come out of his house, but he still didn't.
Then, one day, Mr. Heck Tate came to our door and started telling Atticus that Tom Robinson was going to be moved to the county jail before his trial.
Mr. Link Deas, another man in town, wanted to know if there was a chance that the trial could be held in another town for safety reasons. Mr. Deas is nervous about a crowd coming together when they’re drunk and causing trouble for Tom.
He continued, “—don’t know why you touched this trial in the the first place. You’ve got everything to lose from this, Atticus. I mean everything.”
“Do you really think so? … Link, that boy might go to the chair, but he’s not going till the truth’s told.” Atticus’s voice was even. “And you know what the truth is.”
There was a murmur from the group of men. The trial made eveyrone uncomfortable. They were worried people might attack Tom.
When Atticus came into the house he went to his chair and picked up the paper to read. I walked home with Dill and returned in time to overhear a conversation between Atticus and Aunty. I found Jem in his bedroom. “Have they been arguing” I asked.
“Sort of. She won’t leave him alone about Tom Robinson. She almost said Atticus was disgracing the family. Scout… I’m scared.”
“Scared ‘a what?”
“Scared about Atticus. Somebody might hurt him.”
The next day was Sunday and Tom Robinson had just been moved to the Maycomb jail. The Sunday was quiet. Atticus went to his office, Aunt Alexandra went for a two hour nap, and Jem went to his room with a stack of football magazines. So Dill and I went outside to kick around the football.
After supper , Atticus did something that interested us. He came into the living room carrying a long cord. There was a light bulb at the end.
I’m going out for a while,” he said. “You folks’ll be in bed when I come back, so I’ll say good night now.”
He put on his hat and went out the back door. We noticed that he took the car. One of our father’s weird habits was that he liked to walk so taking the car was weird.
Later on I said good night to Aunty and while I was in my room I heard Jem moving around in his room. I went in and asked him what he was doing.
I’m goin’ downtown for a while.” He was changing his pants.
“Why it’s almost ten o’clock, Jem. I’m goin’ with you. If you say no you’re not, I’m goin’ anyway, hear?”
I dressed quickly and Jem gave in with little grace. I said that Dill would probably want to come so we stopped at Dill’s window at Miss Rachel’s. “What’s up?” Dill said.
“I’ve just got this feeling,” Jem said, “just this feeling.”
We looked at Atticus’s office but it was dark inside. We decided to go up the street thinking he was visiting with Mr. Underwood, editor and writer of The Maycomb Tribune . On the way to the newspaper office we would have to go past the jail. There sitting in front of the jail was Atticus with the light and extension cord. I was going to run to him but Jem stopped me. He said that Atticus would not like us being here. We were turning to leave and saw four cars moving slowly in line stop in front of the jail. Atticus seemed to have been expecting them.
In ones and twos, men got out of the cars. Atticusremained where he was. The men hid from view.
“He in there, Mr. Finch?” a man said.
“He is,” we heard Atticus answer, “and he’s asleep. Don’t wake him up.”
The men talked in near-whispers.
“You know what we want,” another man said. “Get aside from the door, Mr. Finch.”
“You can turn around and go home again, Walter,” Atticus said pleasantly. “Heck Tate’s around somewhere.”
“The hell he is,” said another man. “Heck won't come"
Things looked tense.
I broke away from Jem and ran to Atticus as fast as I could. I pushed my way through the dark smelly bodies and burst into the circle of light.
“H’ey Atticus!”
A flash of plain fear was in his eyes and Jem and Dill wriggled into the light too. I looked around and did not recognize these men. These men were not the same men as the other night. Atticus got up from his chair.
“Go home, Jem,” he said. “Take Scout and Dill home.”
The way Jem was standing he was not thinking of budging.
“Go home, I said.”
Jem shook his head.
“Son, I said go home.”
Jem shook his head again.
A man I didn't know threatened to send Jem home himself.
“Don’t you touch him!” I kicked the man. I was surprised to see him fall back in real pain. I intended to kick his shin, but aimed too high.
Atticus told me that will do and said that I shouldn’t kick folks.
“All right, Mr. Finch, get ‘em outta here,” someone growled. “You got fifteen seconds to get ‘em outta here.”
I looked around and saw that most of the men were dressed in overalls and denim shirts buttoned up to the collars even though it was a summer’s night. I looked for a familiar face. I found one.
"Hey, Mr. Cunningham.”
The man did not hear me, it seemed.
“Hey, Mr. Cuningham. How’s everything getting’ along?”
Mr. Walter Cunningham blinked at me and hooked his thumbs in his overall straps. He looked away. He was ignoring me.
“Don’t you remember me, Mrs. Cunningham? I’m Jean Louise Finch. You brought us some hickory nuts one time, remember?” I began to realize he wasn't going to answer.
“I go to school with Walter,” I began again. “He’s your boy, ain’t he? Ain’t he sir?”
Mr. Cunningham was moved to a small nod. He did know me after all.
“He’s in my grade,” I said, “and he does right well. He’s a good boy,” I added, “a real nice boy. We brought him home for dinner one time. Maybe he told you about me, I beat him up one time but he was real nice about it. Tell him hey for me, won’t you?”
Atticus had always told me to be polite and to talk to people about things they were interested in. The men were all looking at me.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
Mr. Cunningham did a werid thing. He squatted down and took me by both shoulders.
“I’ll tell him you said hey, little lady,” he said.
Then he straightened up and waved a big paw. “Let’s clear out,” he called. “Let’s get going, boys.”
The men shuffled back into their cars and were gone.
I turned to Atticus. “Can we go home now?” He nodded.
“Mr. Finch? They gone?” Tom Robinson said from his jail cell.
“They’ve gone,” he said. “Get some sleep, Tom. They won’t bother you anymore.”
From a different direction, another voice cut crisply through the night: “You’re damn tootin’ they won’t. Had you covered all the time, Atticus.”
Mr. Underwood and a double-barrelled shotgun were leaning out the window.
We started to walk home. Atticus and Jem were ahead of me and Dill. I thought Atticus would give Jem hell for not going home, but I was wrong. Atticus reached out and massaged Jem’s hair, his one sign of love.