to-kill-a-mockingbird-by-harper-lee-pdf-free-download (1)
White Only; the handful of people who say a fair trial is for everybody, not justus; the handful of people with enough humility to think, when they look at aNegro, there but for the Lord’s kindness am l.” Miss Maudie’s old crispness wasreturning: “The handful of people in this town with background, that’s who theyare.”Had I been attentive, I would have had another scrap to add to Jem’sdefinition of background, but I found myself shaking and couldn’t stop. I hadseen Enfield Prison Farm, and Atticus had pointed out the exercise yard to me. Itwas the size of a football field.“Stop that shaking,” commanded Miss Maudie, and I stopped. “Get up,Alexandra, we’ve left ‘em long enough.”Aunt Alexandra rose and smoothed the various whalebone ridges along herhips. She took her handkerchief from her belt and wiped her nose. She patted herhair and said, “Do I show it?”“Not a sign,” said Miss Maudie. “Are you together again, Jean Louise?”“Yes ma’am.”“Then let’s join the ladies,” she said grimly.Their voices swelled when Miss Maudie opened the door to the diningroom.Aunt Alexandra was ahead of me, and I saw her head go up as she went throughthe door.“Oh, Mrs. Perkins,” she said, “you need some more coffee. Let me get it.”“Calpurnia’s on an errand for a few minutes, Grace,” said Miss Maudie. “Letme pass you some more of those dewberry tarts. ‘dyou hear what that cousin ofmine did the other day, the one who likes to go fishing? . . .”And so they went, down the row of laughing women, around the diningroom,refilling coffee cups, dishing out goodies as though their only regret was thetemporary domestic disaster of losing Calpurnia. The gentle hum began again.“Yes sir, Mrs. Perkins, that J. Grimes Everett is a martyred saint, he . . . neededto get married so they ran . . . to the beauty parlor every Saturday afternoon . . .soon as the sun goes down. He goes to bed with the . . . chickens, a crate full ofsick chickens, Fred says that’s what started it all. Fred says . . .”Aunt Alexandra looked across the room at me and smiled. She looked at a trayof cookies on the table and nodded at them. I carefully picked up the tray andwatched myself walk to Mrs. Merriweather. With my best company manners, Iasked her if she would have some.After all, if Aunty could be a lady at a time like this, so could I.
25“Don’t do that, Scout. Set him out on the back steps.”“Jem, are you crazy? . . .”“I said set him out on the back steps.”Sighing, I scooped up the small creature, placed him on the bottom step andwent back to my cot. September had come, but not a trace of cool weather withit, and we were still sleeping on the back screen porch. Lightning bugs were stillabout, the night crawlers and flying insects that beat against the screen thesummer long had not gone wherever they go when autumn comes.A roly-poly had found his way inside the house; I reasoned that the tinyvarmint had crawled up the steps and under the door. I was putting my book onthe floor beside my cot when I saw him. The creatures are no more than an inchlong, and when you touch them they roll themselves into a tight gray ball.I lay on my stomach, reached down and poked him. He rolled up. Then,feeling safe, I suppose, he slowly unrolled. He traveled a few inches on hishundred legs and I touched him again. He rolled up. Feeling sleepy, I decided toend things. My hand was going down on him when Jem spoke.Jem was scowling. It was probably a part of the stage he was going through,and I wished he would hurry up and get through it. He was certainly never cruelto animals, but I had never known his charity to embrace the insect world.“Why couldn’t I mash him?” I asked.“Because they don’t bother you,” Jem answered in the darkness. He hadturned out his reading light.“Reckon you’re at the stage now where you don’t kill flies and mosquitoesnow, I reckon,” I said. “Lemme know when you change your mind. Tell you onething, though, I ain’t gonna sit around and not scratch a redbug.”“Aw dry up,” he answered drowsily.Jem was the one who was getting more like a girl every day, not I.Comfortable, I lay on my back and waited for sleep, and while waiting I thoughtof Dill. He had left us the first of the month with firm assurances that he wouldreturn the minute school was out—he guessed his folks had got the general idea
- Page 179 and 180: “Except when he’s drinking?”
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- Page 183 and 184: No answer.“Did you scream first a
- Page 185 and 186: 19Thomas Robinson reached around, r
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- Page 191 and 192: “Yes suh.”“What’d the nigge
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- Page 195 and 196: 20“Come on round here, son, I got
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- 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
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- Page 211 and 212: “That’s something you’ll have
- Page 213 and 214: “What has happened?”“Nothing
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- Page 219 and 220: enough of a problem to your father
- Page 221 and 222: of folks. Folks.”Jem turned aroun
- Page 223 and 224: . . who’da thought it . . . anybo
- Page 225 and 226: “I said to him, ‘Mr. Everett,
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- Page 233 and 234: foot hit the ground. “Like you’
- Page 235 and 236: 26School started, and so did our da
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- 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
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- 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
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25
“Don’t do that, Scout. Set him out on the back steps.”
“Jem, are you crazy? . . .”
“I said set him out on the back steps.”
Sighing, I scooped up the small creature, placed him on the bottom step and
went back to my cot. September had come, but not a trace of cool weather with
it, and we were still sleeping on the back screen porch. Lightning bugs were still
about, the night crawlers and flying insects that beat against the screen the
summer long had not gone wherever they go when autumn comes.
A roly-poly had found his way inside the house; I reasoned that the tiny
varmint had crawled up the steps and under the door. I was putting my book on
the floor beside my cot when I saw him. The creatures are no more than an inch
long, and when you touch them they roll themselves into a tight gray ball.
I lay on my stomach, reached down and poked him. He rolled up. Then,
feeling safe, I suppose, he slowly unrolled. He traveled a few inches on his
hundred legs and I touched him again. He rolled up. Feeling sleepy, I decided to
end things. My hand was going down on him when Jem spoke.
Jem was scowling. It was probably a part of the stage he was going through,
and I wished he would hurry up and get through it. He was certainly never cruel
to animals, but I had never known his charity to embrace the insect world.
“Why couldn’t I mash him?” I asked.
“Because they don’t bother you,” Jem answered in the darkness. He had
turned out his reading light.
“Reckon you’re at the stage now where you don’t kill flies and mosquitoes
now, I reckon,” I said. “Lemme know when you change your mind. Tell you one
thing, though, I ain’t gonna sit around and not scratch a redbug.”
“Aw dry up,” he answered drowsily.
Jem was the one who was getting more like a girl every day, not I.
Comfortable, I lay on my back and waited for sleep, and while waiting I thought
of Dill. He had left us the first of the month with firm assurances that he would
return the minute school was out—he guessed his folks had got the general idea
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