To kill a Mockingbird
by Harper Lee
강사 : 김용동 선생
PART ONE
from page 85
Chapter 8
For reasons unfathomable to the most experienced prophets in Maycomb County,
autumn turned to winter that year. We had two weeks of the coldest weather since
1885, Atticus said. 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 nature, thereby causing unhappiness to our neighbors and
discomfort to ourselves.
Old Mrs. Radley died that winter, but her death caused hardly a ripple—the
neighborhood seldom saw her, except when she watered her cannas. Jem and I
decided that Boo had got her at last, but when Atticus returned from the Radley
house he said she died of natural causes, to our disappointment.
“Ask him,” Jem whispered.
“You ask him, you’re the oldest.”
“That’s why you oughta ask him.”
“Atticus,” I said, “did you see Mr. Arthur?”
Atticus looked sternly around his newspaper at me: “I did not.”
Jem restrained me from further questions. He said Atticus was still touchous
about us and the Radleys and it wouldn’t do to push him any. Jem had a notion
that Atticus thought our activities that night last summer were not solely confined
to strip poker. Jem had no firm basis for his ideas, he said it was merely a twitch.
Next morning I awoke, looked out the window and nearly died of fright. My
screams brought Atticus from his bathroom half-shaven.
“The world’s endin‘, Atticus! Please do something—!” I dragged him to the
window and pointed.
“No it’s not,” he said. “It’s snowing.”
page 86 line 6
chapter 9
from page 116 1 st line
But she doesn’t know the meaning of half she says—she asked
me what a whore-lady was...”
“Did you tell her?”
“No, I told her about Lord Melbourne.”
“Jack! When a child asks you something, answer him, for goodness’ sake. But
don’t make a production of it. Children are children, but they can spot an evasion
quicker than adults, and evasion simply muddles ‘em. No,” my father mused,
“you had the right answer this afternoon, but the wrong reasons. Bad language is
a stage all children go through, and it dies with time when they learn they’re not
attracting attention with it. Hotheadedness isn’t. Scout’s got to learn to keep her
head and learn soon, with what’s in store for her these next few months. She’s
coming along, though. Jem’s getting older and she follows his example a good bit
now. All she needs is assistance sometimes.”
“Atticus, you’ve never laid a hand on her.”
“I admit that. So far I’ve been able to get by with threats. Jack, she minds me as
well as she can. Doesn’t come up to scratch half the time, but she tries.”
“That’s not the answer,” said Uncle Jack.
“No, the answer is she knows I know she tries. That’s what makes the difference.
What bothers me is that she and Jem will have to absorb some ugly things pretty
soon. I’m not worried about Jem keeping his head, but Scout’d just as soon jump
on someone as look at him if her pride’s at stake...”
I waited for Uncle Jack to break his promise. He still didn’t.
“Atticus, how bad is this going to be? You haven’t had too much chance to
discuss it.”
“It couldn’t be worse, Jack. The only thing we’ve got is a black man’s word
against the Ewells‘.
from page 117 1st line
The evidence boils down to you-did—I-didn’t. The jury
couldn’t possibly be expected to take Tom Robinson’s word against the Ewells’—
are you acquainted with the Ewells?”
Uncle Jack said yes, he remembered them. He described them to Atticus, but
Atticus said, “You’re a generation off. The present ones are the same, though.”
“What are you going to do, then?”
“Before I’m through, I intend to jar the jury a bit—I think we’ll have a reasonable
chance on appeal, though. I really can’t tell at this stage, Jack. You know, I’d
hoped to get through life without a case of this kind, but John Taylor pointed at
me and said, ‘You’re It.’”
“Let this cup pass from you, eh?”
“Right. But do you think I could face my children otherwise? You know what’s
going to happen as well as I do, Jack, and I hope and pray I can get Jem and Scout
through it without bitterness, and most of all, without catching Maycomb’s usual
disease. Why reasonable people go stark raving mad when anything involving a
Negro comes up, is something I don’t pretend to understand... I just hope that
Jem and Scout come to me for their answers instead of listening to the town. I
hope they trust me enough... Jean Louise?”
My scalp jumped. I stuck my head around the corner. “Sir?”
“Go to bed.”
I scurried to my room and went to bed. Uncle Jack was a prince of a fellow not to
let me down. But I never figured out how Atticus knew I was listening, and it was
not until many years later that I realized he wanted me to hear every word he said.