to-kill-a-mockingbird-by-harper-lee-pdf-free-download (1)
Nurse? Aviator? “Well . . .”“Why shoot, I thought you wanted to be a lawyer, you’ve already commencedgoing to court.”The ladies laughed again. “That Stephanie’s a card,” somebody said. MissStephanie was encouraged to pursue the subject: “Don’t you want to grow up tobe a lawyer?”Miss Maudie’s hand touched mine and I answered mildly enough, “Nome,just a lady.”Miss Stephanie eyed me suspiciously, decided that I meant no impertinence,and contented herself with, “Well, you won’t get very far until you start wearingdresses more often.”Miss Maudie’s hand closed tightly on mine, and I said nothing. Its warmthwas enough.Mrs. Grace Merriweather sat on my left, and I felt it would be polite to talk toher. Mr. Merriweather, a faithful Methodist under duress, apparently sawnothing personal in singing, “Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound, that saved awretch like me . . .” It was the general opinion of Maycomb, however, that Mrs.Merriweather had sobered him up and made a reasonably useful citizen of him.For certainly Mrs. Merriweather was the most devout lady in Maycomb. Isearched for a topic of interest to her. “What did you all study this afternoon?” Iasked.“Oh child, those poor Mrunas,” she said, and was off. Few other questionswould be necessary.Mrs. Merriweather’s large brown eyes always filled with tears when sheconsidered the oppressed. “Living in that jungle with nobody but J. GrimesEverett,” she said. “Not a white person’ll go near ‘em but that saintly J. GrimesEverett.”Mrs. Merriweather played her voice like an organ; every word she saidreceived its full measure: “The poverty . . . the darkness . . . the immorality—nobody but J. Grimes Everett knows. You know, when the church gave me thattrip to the camp grounds J. Grimes Everett said to me—”“Was he there, ma’am? I thought—”“Home on leave. J. Grimes Everett said to me, he said, ‘Mrs. Merriweather,you have no conception, no conception of what we are fighting over there.’That’s what he said to me.”“Yes ma’am.”
“I said to him, ‘Mr. Everett,’ I said, ‘the ladies of the Maycomb AlabamaMethodist Episcopal Church South are behind you one hundred percent.’ That’swhat I said to him. And you know, right then and there I made a pledge in myheart. I said to myself, when I go home I’m going to give a course on the Mrunasand bring J. Grimes Everett’s message to Maycomb and that’s just what I’mdoing.”“Yes ma’am.”When Mrs. Merriweather shook her head, her black curls jiggled. “JeanLouise,” she said, “you are a fortunate girl. You live in a Christian home withChristian folks in a Christian town. Out there in J. Grimes Everett’s land there’snothing but sin and squalor.”“Yes ma’am.”“Sin and squalor—what was that, Gertrude?” Mrs. Merriweather turned on herchimes for the lady sitting beside her. “Oh that. Well, I always say forgive andforget, forgive and forget. Thing that church ought to do is help her lead aChristian life for those children from here on out. Some of the men ought to goout there and tell that preacher to encourage her.”“Excuse me, Mrs. Merriweather,” I interrupted, “are you all talking aboutMayella Ewell?”“May—? No, child. That darky’s wife. Tom’s wife, Tom—”“Robinson, ma’am.”Mrs. Merriweather turned back to her neighbor. “There’s one thing I trulybelieve, Gertrude,” she continued, “but some people just don’t see it my way. Ifwe just let them know we forgive ‘em, that we’ve forgotten it, then this wholething’ll blow over.”“Ah—Mrs. Merriweather,” I interrupted once more, “what’ll blow over?”Again, she turned to me. Mrs. Merriweather was one of those childless adultswho find it necessary to assume a different tone of voice when speaking tochildren. “Nothing, Jean Louise,” she said, in stately largo, “the cooks and fieldhands are just dissatisfied, but they’re settling down now—they grumbled allnext day after that trial.”Mrs. Merriweather faced Mrs. Farrow: “Gertrude, I tell you there’s nothingmore distracting than a sulky darky. Their mouths go down to here. Just ruinsyour day to have one of ‘em in the kitchen. You know what I said to my Sophy,Gertrude? I said, ’Sophy,‘ I said, ’you simply are not being a Christian today.Jesus Christ never went around grumbling and complaining,‘ and you know, it
- Page 173 and 174: that he was a Christ-fearing man an
- Page 175 and 176: “Mr. Finch?”She nodded vigorous
- Page 177 and 178: you’ve already said before, but y
- Page 179 and 180: “Except when he’s drinking?”
- Page 181 and 182: good long look at you. Is this the
- Page 183 and 184: No answer.“Did you scream first a
- Page 185 and 186: 19Thomas Robinson reached around, r
- Page 187 and 188: Radley, who had not been out of the
- Page 189 and 190: on me.”“Jumped on you? Violentl
- Page 191 and 192: “Yes suh.”“What’d the nigge
- Page 193 and 194: “I says I was scared, suh.”“I
- Page 195 and 196: 20“Come on round here, son, I got
- Page 197 and 198: edged our way along the balcony rai
- Page 199 and 200: he swore out a warrant, no doubt si
- Page 201 and 202: 21She stopped shyly at the railing
- Page 203 and 204: “They moved around some when the
- Page 205 and 206: Atticus had stopped his tranquil jo
- Page 207 and 208: 22It was Jem’s turn to cry. His f
- Page 209 and 210: was, said she’da had the sheriff
- Page 211 and 212: “That’s something you’ll have
- Page 213 and 214: “What has happened?”“Nothing
- Page 215 and 216: world that makes men lose their hea
- Page 217 and 218: change his mind. “If we’d had t
- Page 219 and 220: enough of a problem to your father
- Page 221 and 222: of folks. Folks.”Jem turned aroun
- Page 223: . . who’da thought it . . . anybo
- Page 227 and 228: and the river. Aunt Alexandra had g
- Page 229 and 230: two good arms he’d have made it,
- Page 231 and 232: 25“Don’t do that, Scout. Set hi
- Page 233 and 234: foot hit the ground. “Like you’
- Page 235 and 236: 26School started, and so did our da
- Page 237 and 238: more deeply that the town children
- Page 239 and 240: know the answer.“But it’s okay
- Page 241 and 242: 27Things did settle down, after a f
- Page 243 and 244: assessment of these events. “That
- Page 245 and 246: took off his shoes until the hounds
- Page 247 and 248: 28The weather was unusually warm fo
- Page 249 and 250: Most of the county, it seemed, was
- Page 251 and 252: butterbeans entering on cue. She wa
- Page 253 and 254: We slowed to a crawl. I asked Jem h
- Page 255 and 256: The man was walking heavily and uns
- Page 257 and 258: worry, though, he’ll be as good a
- Page 259 and 260: 29Aunt Alexandra got up and reached
- Page 261 and 262: wire. “Bob Ewell meant business,
- Page 263 and 264: 30“Mr. Arthur, honey,” said Att
- Page 265 and 266: floorboards it seemed that they gre
- Page 267 and 268: “Heck,” said Atticus abruptly,
- Page 269 and 270: 31When Boo Radley shuffled to his f
- Page 271 and 272: latest to Miss Rachel. Miss Maudie
- Page 273: He turned out the light and went in
Nurse? Aviator? “Well . . .”
“Why shoot, I thought you wanted to be a lawyer, you’ve already commenced
going to court.”
The ladies laughed again. “That Stephanie’s a card,” somebody said. Miss
Stephanie was encouraged to pursue the subject: “Don’t you want to grow up to
be a lawyer?”
Miss Maudie’s hand touched mine and I answered mildly enough, “Nome,
just a lady.”
Miss Stephanie eyed me suspiciously, decided that I meant no impertinence,
and contented herself with, “Well, you won’t get very far until you start wearing
dresses more often.”
Miss Maudie’s hand closed tightly on mine, and I said nothing. Its warmth
was enough.
Mrs. Grace Merriweather sat on my left, and I felt it would be polite to talk to
her. Mr. Merriweather, a faithful Methodist under duress, apparently saw
nothing personal in singing, “Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a
wretch like me . . .” It was the general opinion of Maycomb, however, that Mrs.
Merriweather had sobered him up and made a reasonably useful citizen of him.
For certainly Mrs. Merriweather was the most devout lady in Maycomb. I
searched for a topic of interest to her. “What did you all study this afternoon?” I
asked.
“Oh child, those poor Mrunas,” she said, and was off. Few other questions
would be necessary.
Mrs. Merriweather’s large brown eyes always filled with tears when she
considered the oppressed. “Living in that jungle with nobody but J. Grimes
Everett,” she said. “Not a white person’ll go near ‘em but that saintly J. Grimes
Everett.”
Mrs. Merriweather played her voice like an organ; every word she said
received its full measure: “The poverty . . . the darkness . . . the immorality—
nobody but J. Grimes Everett knows. You know, when the church gave me that
trip to the camp grounds J. Grimes Everett said to me—”
“Was he there, ma’am? I thought—”
“Home on leave. J. Grimes Everett said to me, he said, ‘Mrs. Merriweather,
you have no conception, no conception of what we are fighting over there.’
That’s what he said to me.”
“Yes ma’am.”
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