and had ridden the remainder of the way clinging to the backboard of a cotton wagon.
He had been under the bed for two hours, he thought; he had heard us in the diningroom, and the clink of forks on plates nearly drove him crazy.
He thought Jem and I would never go to bed; he had considered emerging and helping me beat Jem, as Jem had grown far taller,
but he knew Mr. Finch would break it up soon, so he thought it best to stay where he was.
He was worn out, dirty beyond belief, and home. “They must not know you’re here,” said Jem.
“We’d know if they were lookin’ for you…” “Think they’re still searchin’ all the picture shows in Meridian.” Dill grinned.
You oughta let your mother know where you are,” said Jem. “You oughta let her know you’re here…”
Dill’s eyes flickered at Jem, and Jem looked at the floor.
Then he rose and broke the remaining code of our childhood. He went out of the room and down the hall.
“Atticus,” his voice was distant, “can you come here a minute, sir?”
Beneath its sweat-streaked dirt Dill’s face went white. I felt sick.
Atticus was in the doorway. He came to the middle of the room and stood with his hands in his pockets, looking down at Dill.
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