Dill was off again. Beautiful things floated around in his dreamy head. He could read two books to my one, but he preferred the magic of his own inventions. He could add and subtract faster than lightning, but he preferred his own twilight world, a world where babies slept, waiting to be gathered like morning lilies. He was slowly talking himself to sleep and taking me with him, but in the quietness of his foggy island there rose the faded image of a gray house with sad brown doors.

Dill?

Mm?

Why do you reckon Boo Radleys never run off?

Dill sighed a long sigh and turned away from me.

Maybe he doesnt have anywhere to run off to. . . .

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 hed 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. Theres 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, lets 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 dont look for any trouble, but I cant guarantee there wont be any. . . .

Dont be foolish, Heck, Atticus said. This is Maycomb.

. . . said I was just uneasy.

Heck, weve gotten one postponement of this case just to make sure theres nothing to be uneasy about. This is Saturday, Atticus said. Trialll probably be Monday. You can keep him one night, cant you? I dont think anybody in Maycombll begrudge me a client, with times this hard.

There was a murmur of glee that died suddenly when Mr. Link Deas said, Nobody around heres up to anything, its that Old Sarum bunch Im worried about . . . cant you get awhat 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, youre not scared of that crowd, are you?

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

They dont 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 didnt turn on the livingroom lights he would disgrace the family. Jem didnt hear her.

dont see why you touched it in the first place, Mr. Link Deas was saying. Youve got everything to lose from this, Atticus. I mean everything.

Do you really think so?

This was Atticuss 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. Jem would struggle the rest of an evening through the speeches of Henry W. Grady.

Link, that boy might go to the chair, but hes not going till the truths told. Atticuss voice was even. And you know what the truth is.

There was a murmur among the group of men, made more ominous when Atticus moved back to the bottom front step and the men drew nearer to him.

Suddenly Jem screamed, Atticus, the telephones ringing!

The men jumped a little and scattered; they were people we saw every day: merchants, in-town farmers; Dr. Reynolds was there; so was Mr. Avery.