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 he’d 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. There’s 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, let’s 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 don’t look for any trouble, but I can’t guarantee there won’t be any…”
“Don’t be foolish, Heck,” Atticus said. “This is Maycomb.” “…said I was just uneasy.”
“Heck, we’ve gotten one postponement of this case just to make sure there’s nothing to be uneasy about. This is Saturday,” Atticus said.
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