we stood 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 was tuggin’ that mattress—Atticus, I swear…”
“That’s all right, son.” Atticus grinned slowly. “Looks like all of Maycomb was out tonight, in one way or another,”
“Jem, there’s some wrapping paper in the pantry, I think. Go get it and we’ll—” “Atticus, no sir!”
Jem seemed to have lost his mind. He began pouring out our secrets right and left in total disregard for my safety
if not for his own, omitting nothing, knot-hole, pants and all.
“…Mr. Nathan put cement in that tree, Atticus, an’ he did it to stop us findin’ things—he’s crazy, I reckon, like they say,”
“but Atticus, I swear to God he ain’t ever harmed us, he ain’t ever hurt us,”
“he coulda cut my throat from ear to ear that night but he tried to mend my pants instead… he ain’t ever hurt us, Atticus—”
Atticus said, “Whoa, son,” so gently that I was greatly heartened.
It was obvious that he had not followed a word Jem said, for all Atticus said was, “You’re right,”
We’d better keep this and the blanket to ourselves. Someday, maybe, Scout can thank him for covering her up.
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