I don’t want to lose him and Scout, because they’re all I’ve got.
“Mr. Finch.” Mr. Tate was still planted to the floorboards.Bob Ewell fell on his knife. I can prove it.
Atticus wheeled around. His hands dug into his pockets.
“Heck, can’t you even try to see it my way? You’ve got children of your own, but I’m older than you.
When mine are grown I’ll be an old man if I’m still around, but right now I’m—if they don’t trust me they won’t trust anybody.
Jem and Scout know what happened. If they hear of me saying downtown something different happened— Heck, I won’t have them any more.
I can’t live one way in town and another way in my home.
Mr. Tate rocked on his heels and said patiently, “He’d flung Jem down, he stumbled over a root under that tree and—look, I can show you.”
Mr. Tate reached in his side pocket and withdrew a long switchblade knife. As he did so, Dr. Reynolds came to the door.
The son—deceased’s under that tree, doctor, just inside the schoolyard. Got a flashlight? Better have this one.
I can ease around and turn my car lights on,said Dr. Reynolds, but he took Mr. Tate’s flashlight.
Jem’s all right. He won’t wake up tonight, I hope, so don’t worry. That the knife that killed him, Heck?
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