to-kill-a-mockingbird-by-harper-lee-pdf-free-download (1)
Mr. Avery was wedged tightly. I buried my head under Jem’s arm and didn’tlook again until Jem cried, “He’s got loose, Scout! He’s all right!”I looked up to see Mr. Avery cross the upstairs porch. He swung his legs overthe railing and was sliding down a pillar when he slipped. He fell, yelled, and hitMiss Maudie’s shrubbery.Suddenly I noticed that the men were backing away from Miss Maudie’shouse, moving down the street toward us. They were no longer carryingfurniture. The fire was well into the second floor and had eaten its way to theroof: window frames were black against a vivid orange center.“Jem, it looks like a pumpkin—”“Scout, look!”Smoke was rolling off our house and Miss Rachel’s house like fog off ariverbank, and men were pulling hoses toward them. Behind us, the fire truckfrom Abbottsville screamed around the curve and stopped in front of our house.“That book . . .” I said.“What?” said Jem.“That Tom Swift book, it ain’t mine, it’s Dill’s . . .”“Don’t worry, Scout, it ain’t time to worry yet,” said Jem. He pointed. “Lookayonder.”In a group of neighbors, Atticus was standing with his hands in his overcoatpockets. He might have been watching a football game. Miss Maudie was besidehim.“See there, he’s not worried yet,” said Jem.“Why ain’t he on top of one of the houses?”“He’s too old, he’d break his neck.”“You think we oughta make him get our stuff out?”“Let’s don’t pester him, he’ll know when it’s time,” said Jem.The Abbottsville fire truck began pumping water on our house; a man on theroof pointed to places that needed it most. I watched our Absolute Morphoditego black and crumble; Miss Maudie’s sunhat settled on top of the heap. I couldnot see her hedge-clippers. In the heat between our house, Miss Rachel’s andMiss Maudie’s, the men had long ago shed coats and bathrobes. They worked inpajama tops and nightshirts stuffed into their pants, but I became aware that Iwas slowly freezing where I stood. Jem tried to keep me warm, but his arm was
not enough. I pulled free of it and clutched my shoulders. By dancing a little, Icould feel my feet.Another fire truck appeared and stopped in front of Miss StephanieCrawford’s. There was no hydrant for another hose, and the men tried to soakher house with hand extinguishers.Miss Maudie’s tin roof quelled the flames. Roaring, the house collapsed; firegushed everywhere, followed by a flurry of blankets from men on top of theadjacent houses, beating out sparks and burning chunks of wood.It was dawn before the men began to leave, first one by one, then in groups.They pushed the Maycomb fire truck back to town, the Abbottsville truckdeparted, the third one remained. We found out next day it had come fromClark’s Ferry, sixty miles away.Jem and I slid across the street. Miss Maudie was staring at the smoking blackhole in her yard, and Atticus shook his head to tell us she did not want to talk.He led us home, holding onto our shoulders to cross the icy street. He said MissMaudie would stay with Miss Stephanie for the time being.“Anybody want some hot chocolate?” he asked. I shuddered when Atticusstarted a fire in the kitchen stove.As we drank our cocoa I noticed Atticus looking at me, first with curiosity,then with sternness. “I thought I told you and Jem to stay put,” he said.“Why, we did. We stayed—”“Then whose blanket is that?”“Blanket?”“Yes ma’am, blanket. It isn’t ours.”I looked down and found myself clutching a brown woolen blanket I waswearing around my shoulders, squaw-fashion.“Atticus, I don’t know, sir . . . I—”I turned to Jem for an answer, but Jem was even more bewildered than I. Hesaid he didn’t know how it got there, we did exactly as Atticus had told us, westood down by the Radley gate away from everybody, we didn’t move an inch—Jem stopped.“Mr. Nathan was at the fire,” he babbled, “I saw him, I saw him, he wastuggin‘ that mattress—Atticus, I swear . . .”“That’s all right, son.” Atticus grinned slowly. “Looks like all of Maycombwas out tonight, in one way or another. Jem, there’s some wrapping paper in the
- Page 21 and 22: from here and try to undo the damag
- Page 23 and 24: I turned around and saw most of the
- Page 25 and 26: again, becoming cold sober only whe
- Page 27 and 28: “Reckon I have,” said Walter.
- Page 29 and 30: gently, “You mean him, ma’am? Y
- Page 31 and 32: Ain’t no snot-nosed slut of a sch
- Page 33 and 34: Maycomb’s ways in one day, and we
- Page 35 and 36: 4The remainder of my schooldays wer
- Page 37 and 38: the hundredth time to the knot-hole
- Page 39 and 40: the dreary face of the Radley Place
- Page 41 and 42: “Boo Radley.”Jem’s head at ti
- Page 43 and 44: “I don’t know. Atticus didn’t
- Page 45 and 46: blasts from beneath with a poisonou
- Page 47 and 48: My confidence in pulpit Gospel less
- Page 49 and 50: stick on the window sill, at least.
- Page 51 and 52: Dill said, “We thought he might e
- Page 53 and 54: go for a walk.”He sounded fishy t
- Page 55 and 56: the step squeaked. He stood still,
- Page 57 and 58: “Jem, Scout,” said Atticus, “
- Page 59 and 60: waited for his light to go on, stra
- Page 61 and 62: you’re gonna do lest they live in
- Page 63 and 64: “Don’t know. I’ll show it to
- Page 65 and 66: “Why no, son, I don’t think so.
- Page 67 and 68: The telephone rang and Atticus left
- Page 69 and 70: another load, and another until he
- Page 71: By then he did not have to tell me.
- Page 75 and 76: “Grieving, child? Why, I hated th
- Page 77 and 78: 9“You can just take that back, bo
- Page 79 and 80: under his chin. He put his arms aro
- Page 81 and 82: says she’s been cussing fluently
- Page 83 and 84: in it? It’ll drive him nuts.”Ta
- Page 85 and 86: “He is not!” I roared. “I don
- Page 87 and 88: Uncle Jack said if I talked like th
- Page 89 and 90: her.”Atticus chuckled. “She ear
- Page 91 and 92: 10Atticus was feeble: he was nearly
- Page 93 and 94: “Well nothing. Nothing—it seems
- Page 95 and 96: Calpurnia stared, then grabbed us b
- Page 97 and 98: Mr. Tate turned around. “He’s f
- Page 99 and 100: crazy. I’d hate to see Harry John
- Page 101 and 102: 11When we were small, Jem and I con
- Page 103 and 104: the reform school before next week,
- Page 105 and 106: “Jem,” he said, “are you resp
- Page 107 and 108: The following Monday afternoon Jem
- Page 109 and 110: lot.”“She can’t help that. Wh
- Page 111 and 112: Jem’s chin would come up, and he
- Page 113 and 114: PART TWO
- Page 115 and 116: write.The fact that I had a permane
- Page 117 and 118: Purchase because it was paid for fr
- Page 119 and 120: windows.He said, “Brethren and si
- Page 121 and 122: intended to sweat the amount due ou
Mr. Avery was wedged tightly. I buried my head under Jem’s arm and didn’t
look again until Jem cried, “He’s got loose, Scout! He’s all right!”
I looked up to see Mr. Avery cross the upstairs porch. He swung his legs over
the railing and was sliding down a pillar when he slipped. He fell, yelled, and hit
Miss Maudie’s shrubbery.
Suddenly I noticed that the men were backing away from Miss Maudie’s
house, moving down the street toward us. They were no longer carrying
furniture. The fire was well into the second floor and had eaten its way to the
roof: window frames were black against a vivid orange center.
“Jem, it looks like a pumpkin—”
“Scout, look!”
Smoke was rolling off our house and Miss Rachel’s house like fog off a
riverbank, and men were pulling hoses toward them. Behind us, the fire truck
from Abbottsville screamed around the curve and stopped in front of our house.
“That book . . .” I said.
“What?” said Jem.
“That Tom Swift book, it ain’t mine, it’s Dill’s . . .”
“Don’t worry, Scout, it ain’t time to worry yet,” said Jem. He pointed. “Looka
yonder.”
In a group of neighbors, Atticus was standing with his hands in his overcoat
pockets. He might have been watching a football game. Miss Maudie was beside
him.
“See there, he’s not worried yet,” said Jem.
“Why ain’t he on top of one of the houses?”
“He’s too old, he’d break his neck.”
“You think we oughta make him get our stuff out?”
“Let’s don’t pester him, he’ll know when it’s time,” said Jem.
The Abbottsville fire truck began pumping water on our house; a man on the
roof pointed to places that needed it most. I watched our Absolute Morphodite
go black and crumble; Miss Maudie’s sunhat settled on top of the heap. I could
not see her hedge-clippers. In the heat between our house, Miss Rachel’s and
Miss Maudie’s, the men had long ago shed coats and bathrobes. They worked in
pajama tops and nightshirts stuffed into their pants, but I became aware that I
was slowly freezing where I stood. Jem tried to keep me warm, but his arm was
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