Harper Lee's "To Kill a Mockingbird" Chapters 1-10 164 words

Dizzy and nauseated, I lay on the cement and shook my head still, pounded my ears to silence, and heard Jem's voice: "Scout, get away from there, come on!"

Lastly, we were to stay away from that house until we were invited there, we were not to play an asinine game he had seen us playing or make fun of anybody on this street or in this town.

Atticus told me to delete the adjectives and I'd have the facts.

There went with the house the usual legend about the Yankees: one Finch female, recently engaged, donned her complete trousseau to save it from raiders in the neighborhood; she became stuck in the door to the Daughters' Staircase but was doused wit

Tim Johnson leaped, flopped over and crumpled on the sidewalk in a brown-and-white heap.

Tim Johnson was advancing at a snail's pace, but he was not playing or sniffing at foliage: he seemed dedicated to one course and motivated by an invisible force that was inching him toward us.

Once the town was terrorized by a series of morbid nocturnal events: people's chickens and household pets were found mutilated; although the culprit was Crazy Addie, who eventually drowned himself in Barker's Eddy, people still looked at the Radley

"Gracious child, I was raveling a thread, wasn't even thinking about your father, but now that I am I'll say this: Atticus Finch is the same in his house as he is on the public streets.

Jem arbitrated, awarded me first push with an extra time for Dill, and I folded myself inside the tire.

But her cooking made up for everything: three kinds of meat, summer vegetables from her pantry shelves; peach pickles, two kinds of cake and ambrosia constituted a modest Christmas dinner.

Boo bit it off one night when he couldn't find any cats and squirrels to eat.); she sat in the living room and cried most of the time, while Boo slowly whittled away all the furniture in the house.

They ambled across the square, shuffled in and out of the stores around it, took their time about everything.

I don't know of any landowner around here who begrudges those children any game their father can hit."

"Don't blame me when he gouges your eyes out.

Ground, sky and houses melted into a mad palette, my ears throbbed, I was suffocating.

It was obstreperous, disorderly and abusive -"
"You gonna give me a chance to tell you?

Dill grabbed the clapper; in the silence that followed, I wished he'd start ringing it again.

She was a widow, a chameleon lady who worked in her flower beds in an old straw hat and men's coveralls, but after her five o'clock bath she would appear on the porch and reign over the street in magisterial beauty.

You've perpetrated a near libel here in the front yard.

But by the end of August our repertoire was vapid from countless reproductions, and it was then that Dill gave us the idea of making Boo Radley come out.

She was a widow, a chameleon lady who worked in her flower beds in an old straw hat and men's coveralls, but after her five o'clock bath she would appear on the porch and reign over the street in magisterial beauty.

He trudged along, dragging the pole behind him on the sidewalk.

She had always been too hard on me, she had at last seen the error of her fractious ways, she was sorry and too stubborn to say so.

But by the end of August our repertoire was vapid from countless reproductions, and it was then that Dill gave us the idea of making Boo Radley come out.

The back of the Radley house was less inviting than the front: a ramshackle porch ran the width of the house; there were two doors and two dark windows between the doors.

But I kept aloof from their more foolhardy schemes for a while, and on pain of being called a g-irl, I spent most of the remaining twilights that summer sitting with Miss Maudie Atkinson on her front porch.

Boo's transition from the basement toback home was nebulous in Jem's memory.

Jem decided there was no point in quibbling, and was silent.

Jem was paralyzed.

Atticus's office in the courthouse contained little more than a hat rack, a spittoon, a checkerboard and an unsullied Code of Alabama.

Jem scooped up an armful of dirt, patted it into a mound on which he added another load, and another until he had constructed a torso.

Somehow, it was hotter then: a black dog suffered on a summer's day; bony mules hitched to Hoover carts flicked flies in the sweltering shade of the live oaks on the square.

A flip of the coin revealed the uncompromising lineaments of Aunt Alexandra and Francis.

"Ain't got no mother," was the answer, "and their paw's right contentious."

According to neighborhood legend, when the younger Radley boy was in his teens he became acquainted with some of the Cunninghams from Old Sarum, an enormous and confusing tribe domiciled in the northern part of the county, and they formed the neare

I returned to the front yard and busied myself for two hours erecting a complicated breastworks at the side of the porch, consisting of a tire, an orange crate, the laundry hamper, the porch chairs, and a small U.S. flag Jem gave me from a popcorn

When it healed, and Jem's fears of never being able to play football were assuaged, he was seldom self-conscious about his injury.

Indeed, they were an endless Project that slowly evolved into a Unit, in which miles of construction paper and wax crayon were expended by the State of Alabama in its well-meaning but fruitless efforts to teach me Group Dynamics.

The Radley Place fascinated Dill.

Aunt Alexandra was Atticus's sister, but when Jem told me about changelings and siblings, I decided that she had been swapped at birth, that my grandparents had perhaps received a Crawford instead of a Finch.

Dill and Jem emerged from a brief huddle: "If you stay you've got to do what we tell you," Dill warned.

Mindful of John Wesley's strictures on the use of many words in buying and selling, Simon made a pile practicing medicine, but in this pursuit he was unhappy lest he be tempted into doing what he knew was not for the glory of God, as the putting on

Inside the house lived a malevolent phantom.

But I must say Providence was kind enough to burn down that old mausoleum of mine, I'm too old to keep it up-maybe you're right, Jean Louise, this is a settled neighborhood.

Mr. Avery said it was written on the Rosetta Stone that when children disobeyed their parents, smoked cigarettes and made war on each other, the seasons would change: Jem and I were burdened with the guilt of contributing to the aberrations of natu

Microscopic grains oozed out.

Ground, sky and houses melted into a mad palette, my ears throbbed, I was suffocating.

The cootie's host showed not the faintest interest in the furor he had wrought.

Aunty had continued to isolate me long after Jem and Francis graduated to the big table.

Mr. Avery averaged a stick of stovewood per week; he honed it down to a toothpick and chewed it.

"Mr. Nathan was at the fire," he babbled, "I saw him, I saw him, he was tuggin' that mattress - Atticus, I swear .

Tim Johnson was advancing at a snail's pace, but he was not playing or sniffing at foliage: he seemed dedicated to one course and motivated by an invisible force that was inching him toward us.

The town decided something had to be done; Mr. Conner said he knew who each and every one of them was, and he was bound and determined they wouldn't get away with it, so the boys came before the probate judge on charges of disorderly conduct, disturbing t

Children are children, but they can spot an evasion quicker than adults, and evasion simply muddles 'em.

In Maycomb County, hunting out of season was a misdemeanor at law, a capital felony in the eyes of the populace.

"You all hush," said Jem. He scuttled beneath the house and came out with a yellow bamboo pole.

"I'm afraid our activities would be received with considerable disapprobation by the more learned authorities."

I see it-"
Jem looked around, reached up, and gingerly pocketed a tiny shiny package.

I giggled at the thought of Jem in an apron.

When I was able to navigate, I ran back to them as fast as my shaking knees would carry me.

The Radleys, welcome anywhere in town, kept to themselves, a predilection unforgivable in Maycomb.

The sixth grade seemed to please him from the beginning: be went through a brief Egyptian Period that baffled me-he tried to walk flat a great deal, sticking one arm in front of him and one in back of him, putting one foot behind the other.

Their sister Alexandra was the Finch who remained at the Landing: she married a taciturn man who spent most of his time lying in a hammock by the river wondering if his trot-lines were full.

We lived on the main residential street in town-Atticus, Jem and I, plus Ca1purnia our cook.

Soft taffeta-like sounds and muffled scurrying sounds filled me with helpless dread.

Uncle Jack instructed us in the rudiments thereof; he said Atticus wasn't interested in guns.

Indeed, they were an endless Project that slowly evolved into a Unit, in which miles of construction paper and wax crayon were expended by the State of Alabama in its well-meaning but fruitless efforts to teach me Group Dynamics.

Atticus had urged them to accept the state's generosity in allowing them to plead Guilty to second-degree murder and escape with their lives, but they were Haverfords, in Maycomb County a name synonymous with jackass.

I retrieved my plate and finished dinner in the kitchen, thankful, though, that I was spared the humiliation of facing them again.

The Haverfords had dispatched Maycomb's leading blacksmith in a misunderstanding arising from the alleged wrongful detention of a mare, were imprudent enough to do it in the presence of three witnesses, and insisted that the-son-of-a-bitch-had-itco

That cat thing was real fine this mornin'â€Ãƒƒƒƒ‚¦ÃƒƒÃƒƒƒ‚¢€�
Miss Caroline smiled, blew her nose, said, "Thank you, darlings," dispersed us, opened a book and mystified the first grade with a long n

You look right puny for goin' on seven."

So Simon, having forgotten his teacher's dictum on the possession of human chattels, bought three slaves and with their aid established a homestead on the banks of the Alabama River some forty miles above Saint Stephens.

Atticus kept us in fits that evening, gravely reading columns of print about a man who sat on a flagpole for no discernible reason, which was reason enough for Jem to spend the following Saturday aloft in the treehouse.

Jem threw open the gate and sped to the side of the house, slapped it with his palm and ran back past us, not waiting to see if his foray was successful.

Tim Johnson was advancing at a snail's pace, but he was not playing or sniffing at foliage: he seemed dedicated to one course and motivated by an invisible force that was inching him toward us.

Little Chuck Little, whose patience with all living things was phenomenal, said, "Which way did he go, Miss Caroline?

So Simon, having forgotten his teacher's dictum on the possession of human chattels, bought three slaves and with their aid established a homestead on the banks of the Alabama River some forty miles above Saint Stephens.

Respiration normal, the three of us strolled as casually as we could to the front yard.

I sniffed it and it smelled all right.

I never deliberately learned to read, but somehow I had been wallowing illicitly in the daily papers.

Our tacit treaty with Miss Maudie was that we could play on her lawn, eat her scuppernongs if we didn't jump on the arbor, and explore her vast back lot, terms so generous we seldom spoke to her, so careful were we to preserve the delicate balance

Chapter 4
The remainder of my school days were no more auspicious than the first.

He was a year older than I, and I avoided him on principle: he enjoyed everything I disapproved of, and disliked my ingenuous diversions.

All we had was Simon Finch, a fur-trapping apothecary from Cornwall whose piety was exceeded only by his stinginess.

According to neighborhood legend, when the younger Radley boy was in his teens he became acquainted with some of the Cunninghams from Old Sarum, an enormous and confusing tribe domiciled in the northern part of the county, and they formed the neare

She was furious, and when she was furious Calpurnia's grammar became erratic.

Apparently she had revived enough to persevere in her profession.

He simply murmured, "Her use of bathroom invective leaves nothing to the imagination.

The class murmured apprehensively, should she prove to harbor her share of the peculiarities indigenous to that region.

Once the town was terrorized by a series of morbid nocturnal events: people's chickens and household pets were found mutilated; although the culprit was Crazy Addie, who eventually drowned himself in Barker's Eddy, people still looked at the Radley

Shoulder tip, I reeled around to face Boo Radley and his bloody fangs; instead, I saw Dill ringing the bell with all his might in Atticus's face.

I reassured him: "Can't anybody tell what you're gonna do lest they live in the house with you, and even I can't tell sometimes."

He waited in amiable silence, and I sought to reinforce my position: "You never went to school and you do all right, so I'll just stay home too.

Until Jem and Dill excluded me from their plans, she was only another lady in the neighborhood, but a relatively benign presence.

The Haverfords had dispatched Maycomb's leading blacksmith in a misunderstanding arising from the alleged wrongful detention of a mare, were imprudent enough to do it in the presence of three witnesses, and insisted that the-son-of-a-bitch-had-itco

There was a long jagged sear that ran across his face; what teeth he had were yellow and rotten; his eyes popped, and he drooled most of the time.

Miss Caroline seemed unaware that the ragged, denim-shirted and floursack-skirted first grade, most of whom had chopped cotton and fed hogs from the time they were able to walk, were immune to imaginative literature.

Jem procured some peach-tree switches from the back yard, plaited them, and bent them into bones to be covered with dirt.

Dr. Buford's profession was medicine and his obsession was anything that grew in the ground, so he stayed poor.

That cat thing was real fine this mornin'â€Ãƒƒƒƒ‚¦ÃƒƒÃƒƒƒ‚¢€�
Miss Caroline smiled, blew her nose, said, "Thank you, darlings," dispersed us, opened a book and mystified the first grade with a long n

With movements so swift they seemed simultaneous, Atticus's hand yanked a ball-tipped lever as he brought the gun to his shoulder.

His fists were half cocked, as if expecting an onslaught from both of us.

He was among the most diminutive of men, but when Burris Ewell turned toward him, Little Chuck's right hand went to his pocket.

One time I asked her to have a chew and she said no thanks, that---chewing gum cleaved to her palate and rendered her speechless," said Jem carefully.

If the remainder of the school year were as fraught with drama as the first day, perhaps it would be mildly entertaining, but the prospect of spending nine months refraining from reading and writing made me think of running away.

"There goes the meanest man ever God blew breath into," murmured Calpurnia, and she spat meditatively into the yard.

Somehow, it was hotter then: a black dog suffered on a summer's day; bony mules hitched to Hoover carts flicked flies in the sweltering shade of the live oaks on the square.

The internal arrangements of the Finch house were indicative of Simon's guilelessness and the absolute trust with which he regarded his offspring.

Had I ever harbored the mystical notions about mountains that seem to obsess lawyers and judges, Aunt Alexandra would have been analogous to Mount Everest: throughout my early life, she was cold and there.

I guess it ain't your fault if Uncle Atticus is a nigger-lover besides, but I'm here to tell you it certainly does mortify the rest of the family."

For some reason, my first year of school had wrought a great change in our relationship: Calpurnia's tyranny, unfairness, and meddling in my business had faded to gentle grumblings of general disapproval.

Through all the head-shaking, quelling of nausea and Jem-yelling, I had heard another sound, so low I could not have heard it from the sidewalk.

I sometimes thought of asking her if she would let me sit at the big table with the rest of them just once, I would prove to her how civilized I could be; after all, I ate at home every day with no major mishaps.

Simon would have regarded with impotent fury the disturbance between the North and the South, as it left his descendants stripped of everything but their land, yet the tradition of living on the land remained unbroken until well into the twentieth

Why?"
"He didn't have any lunch," I said, and explained my involvement in Walter's dietary affairs.

Mr. Avery said it was written on the Rosetta Stone that when children disobeyed their parents, smoked cigarettes and made war on each other, the seasons would change: Jem and I were burdened with the guilt of contributing to the aberrations of natu

"I'll be dogged," I said.

When we were on the sidewalk in front of Miss Maudie's, Mr. Avery accosted us.

He searched the scalp above his forehead, located his guest and pinched it between his thumb and forefinger.

Miss Maudie's face likened such an occurrence unto an Old Testament pestilence.

"You can't go around making caricatures of the neighbors."

Thus we came to know Dill as a pocket Merlin, whose head teemed with eccentric plans, strange longings, and quaint fancies.

Jem became vaguely articulate: "'d you see him, Scout? 'd you see him just standin' there? . . . 'n' all of a sudden he just relaxed all over, an' it looked like that gun was a part of him . . . an' he did it so quick, like .

When we left her, she was still chuckling.

Rather than risk a tangle with Calpurnia, I did as Jem told me.

Jem scooped up an armful of dirt, patted it into a mound on which he added another load, and another until he had constructed a torso.

Once the town was terrorized by a series of morbid nocturnal events: people's chickens and household pets were found mutilated; although the culprit was Crazy Addie, who eventually drowned himself in Barker's Eddy, people still looked at the Radley

He was the filthiest human I had ever seen.

His neck was dark gray, the backs of his hands were rusty, and his fingernails were black deep into the quick.

It was all right to shut him up, Mr. Radley conceded, but insisted that Boo not be charged with anything: he was not a criminal.

There was a long jagged sear that ran across his face; what teeth he had were yellow and rotten; his eyes popped, and he drooled most of the time.

He went in the house, returned with the laundry hamper, filled it with earth and carried it to the front yard.

Mindful of John Wesley's strictures on the use of many words in buying and selling, Simon made a pile practicing medicine, but in this pursuit he was unhappy lest he be tempted into doing what he knew was not for the glory of God, as the putting on of gol

Once the town was terrorized by a series of morbid nocturnal events: people's chickens and household pets were found mutilated; although the culprit was Crazy Addie, who eventually drowned himself in Barker's Eddy, people still looked at the Radley Place,

Miss Caroline walked up and down the rows peering and poking into lunch containers, little at others.

I was on the verge of leavin'- I done done my time for this year."

Furthermore, I couldn't help noticing that my father had served for years in the state legislature, elected each time without opposition, innocent of the adjustments my teachers thought essential to the development of Good Citizenship.

Jem said Mr. Avery misfigured, Dill said he must drink a gallon a day, and the ensuing contest to determine relative distances and respective prowess only made me feel left out again, as I was untalented in this area.

"There's some folks who don't eat like us," she whispered fiercely, "but you ain't called on to contradict 'em at the table when they don't.

"Now don't you fret, ma'am," he said.

Dill and Jem emerged from a brief huddle: "If you stay you've got to do what we tell you," Dill warned.

Jem and I had always enjoyed the free run of Miss Maudie's yard if we kept out of her azaleas, but our contact with her was not clearly defined.

Jem and I relaxed.

He did have on a clean shirt and neatly mended overalls.

Uncle Jack Finch confined his passion for digging to his window boxes in Nashville and stayed rich.

Dill would walk by, cough at Jem, and Jem would fake a plunge into Dill's thigh.

Hours of wintertime had found me in the treehouse, looking over at the schoolyard, spying on multitudes of children through a two-power telescope Jem had given me, learning their games, following Jem's red jacket through wriggling circles of blind man's <

After a dreary conversation in our living room one night about his entailment, before Mr. Cunningham left he said, "Mr. Finch, I don't know when I'll ever be able to pay you."

I suppose she chose me because she knew my name; as I read the alphabet a faint line appeared between her eyebrows, and after making me read most of My First Reader and the stock-market quotations from The Mobile Register aloud, she discovered that

We ran across the schoolyard, crawled under the fence to Deer's Pasture behind our house, climbed our back fence and were at the back steps before Jem would let us pause to rest.

Miss Blount, a native Maycombian as yet uninitiated in the mysteries of the Decimal System, appeared at the door hands on hips and announced: "If I hear another sound from this room I'll burn up everybody in it.

In your case, the law remains rigid.

When we ran to the back yard, it was covered with a feeble layer of soggy snow.

She picked up the limp sprout and squeezed her thumb up its tiny stalk.

Jem's definitions are very nearly accurate sometimes."

A Negro would not pass the Radley Place at night, he would cut across to the sidewalk opposite and whistle as he walked.

Jem stood in thought so long that Dill made a mild concession: "I won't say you ran out on a dare an' I'll swap you The Gray Ghost if you just go up and touch the house."