when boo radley shuffled to his feet, light from the livingroom windows glistened onhis forehead. every move he made was uncertain, as if he were not sure his hands andfeet could make proper contact with the things he touched. he coughed his dreadfulraling cough, and was so shaken he had to sit down again. his hand searched for hiship pocket, and he pulled out a handkerchief. he coughed into it, then he wiped hisforehead.
having been so accustomed to his absence, i found it incredible that he had beensitting beside me all this time, present. he had not made a sound.
once more, he got to his feet. he turned to me and nodded toward the front door.
“you’d like to say good night to jem, wouldn’t you, mr. arthur? come right in.”
i led him down the hall. aunt alexandra was sitting by jem’s bed. “come in, arthur,”
she said. “he’s still asleep. dr. reynolds gave him a heavy sedative. jean louise, isyour father in the livingroom?”
“yes ma’am, i think so.”
“i’ll just go speak to him a minute. dr. reynolds left some…” her voice trailed away.
boo had drifted to a corner of the room, where he stood with his chin up, peering froma distance at jem. i took him by the hand, a hand surprisingly warm for its whiteness. itugged him a little, and he allowed me to lead him to jem’s bed.
dr. reynolds had made a tent-like arrangement over jem’s arm, to keep the cover off,i guess, and boo leaned forward and looked over it. an expression of timid curiosity wason his face, as though he had never seen a boy before. his mouth was slightly open,and he looked at jem from head to foot. boo’s hand came up, but he let it drop to hisside.
“you can pet him, mr. arthur, he’s asleep. you couldn’t if he was awake, though, hewouldn’t let you…” i found myself explaining. “go ahead.”
boo’s hand hovered over jem’s head.
“go on, sir, he’s asleep.”
his hand came down lightly on jem’s hair.
i was beginning to learn his body english. his hand tightened on mine and heindicated that he wanted to leave.
i led him to the front porch, where his uneasy steps halted. he was still holding myhand and he gave no sign of letting me go.
“will you take me home?”
he almost whispered it, in the voice of a child afraid of the dark.
i put my foot on the top step and stopped. i would lead him through our house, but iwould never lead him home.
“mr. arthur, bend your arm down here, like that. that’s right, sir.”
i slipped my hand into the crook of his arm.
he had to stoop a little to accommodate me, but if miss stephanie crawford waswatching from her upstairs window, she would see arthur radley escorting me down thesidewalk, as any gentleman would do.
we came to the street light on the corner, and i wondered how many times dill hadstood there hugging the fat pole, watching, waiting, hoping. i wondered how many timesjem and i had made this journey, but i entered the radley front gate for the second timein my life. boo and i walked up the steps to the porch. his fingers found the frontdoorknob. he gently released my hand, opened the door, went inside, and shut the doorbehind him. i never saw him again.
neighbors bring food with death and flowers with sickness and little things in between.
boo was our neighbor. he gave us two soap dolls, a broken watch and chain, a pair ofgood-luck pennies, and our lives. but neighbors give in return. we never put back intothe tree what we took out of it: we had given him nothing, and it made me sad.
i turned to go home. street lights winked down the street all the way to town. i hadnever seen our neighborhood from this angle. there were miss maudie’s, missstephanie’s—there was our house, i could see the porch swing—miss rachel’s housewas beyond us, plainly visible. i could even see mrs. dubose’s.
i looked behind me. to the left of the brown door was a long shuttered window. iwalked to it, stood in front of it, and turned around. in daylight, i thought, you could seeto the postoffice corner.
daylight… in my mind, the night faded. it was daytime and the neighborhood wasbusy. miss stephanie crawford crossed the street to tell the latest to miss rachel. missmaudie bent over her azaleas. it was summertime, and two children scampered downthe sidewalk toward a man approaching in the distance. the man waved, and thechildren raced each other to him.
it was still summertime, and the children came closer. a boy trudged down thesidewalk dragging a fishingpole behind him. a man stood waiting with his hands on hiships. summertime, and his children played in the front yard with their friend, enacting astrange little drama of their own invention.
it was fall, and his children fought on the sidewalk in front of mrs. dubose’s. the boyhelped his sister to her feet, and they made their way home. fall, and his children trottedto and fro around the corner, the day’s woes and triumphs on their faces. they stoppedat an oak tree, delighted, puzzled, apprehensive.
winter, and his children shivered at the front gate, silhouetted against a blazing house.
winter, and a man walked into the street, dropped his glasses, and shot a dog.
summer, and he watched his children’s heart break. autumn again, and boo’schildren needed him.
atticus was right. one time he said you never really know a man until you stand in hisshoes and walk around in them. just standing on the radley porch was enough.
the street lights were fuzzy from the fine rain that was falling. as i made my wayhome, i felt very old, but when i looked at the tip of my nose i could see fine mistybeads, but looking cross-eyed made me dizzy so i quit. as i made my way home, ithought what a thing to tell jem tomorrow. he’d be so mad he missed it he wouldn’tspeak to me for days. as i made my way home, i thought jem and i would get grownbut there wasn’t much else left for us to learn, except possibly algebra.
i ran up the steps and into the house. aunt alexandra had gone to bed, and atticus’sroom was dark. i would see if jem might be reviving. atticus was in jem’s room, sittingby his bed. he was reading a book.
“is jem awake yet?”
“sleeping peacefully. he won’t be awake until morning.”
“oh. are you sittin‘ up with him?”
“just for an hour or so. go to bed, scout. you’ve had a long day.”
“well, i think i’ll stay with you for a while.”
“suit yourself,” said atticus. it must have been after midnight, and i was puzzled by hisamiable acquiescence. he was shrewder than i, however: the moment i sat down ibegan to feel sleepy.
“whatcha readin‘?” i asked.
atticus turned the book over. “something of jem’s. called the gray ghost.”
i was suddenly awake. “why’d you get that one?”
“honey, i don’t know. just picked it up. one of the few things i haven’t read,” he saidpointedly.
“read it out loud, please, atticus. it’s real scary.”
“no,” he said. “you’ve had enough scaring for a while. this is too—”
“atticus, i wasn’t scared.”
he raised his eyebrows, and i protested: “leastways not till i started telling mr. tateabout it. jem wasn’t scared. asked him and he said he wasn’t. besides, nothin’s realscary except in books.”
atticus opened his mouth to say something, but shut it again. he took his thumb fromthe middle of the book and turned back to the first page. i moved over and leaned myhead against his knee. “h’rm,” he said. “the gray ghost, by seckatary hawkins.
chapter one…”
i willed myself to stay awake, but the rain was so soft and the room was so warm andhis voice was so deep and his knee was so snug that i slept.
seconds later, it seemed, his shoe was gently nudging my ribs. he lifted me to my feetand walked me to my room. “heard every word you said,” i muttered. “…wasn’t sleep atall, ‘s about a ship an’ three-fingered fred ‘n’ stoner’s boy…”
he unhooked my overalls, leaned me against him, and pulled them off. he held me upwith one hand and reached for my pajamas with the other.
“yeah, an‘ they all thought it was stoner’s boy messin’ up their clubhouse an‘ throwin’
ink all over it an‘…”
he guided me to the bed and sat me down. he lifted my legs and put me under thecover.
“an‘ they chased him ’n‘ never could catch him ’cause they didn’t know what he lookedlike, an‘ atticus, when they finally saw him, why he hadn’t done any of those things…atticus, he was real nice…”
his hands were under my chin, pulling up the cover, tucking it around me.
“most people are, scout, when you finally see them.”
he turned out the light and went into jem’s room. he would be there all night, and hewould be there when jem waked up in the morning.
布?拉德利慢慢地站起来，客厅窗户里透出来的灯光照在他前额上。他的一举一动都显得犹豫不决，似乎不知道怎样接触他手和脚碰着的东西才比较合适。
他咳嗽咳得十分厉害，全身颤抖得只好再坐下来。他把手伸进裤子后面的口袋，掏出一条手绢，捂着嘴咳了几声，又用手绢擦了擦前额。
从来没和他呆在一块儿，现在他却在我身边坐了这么久，真是难以置信。他一直没说一句话。
过了一会儿，他又站了起来，转身看了我一眼，朝前门点了点头。
“您想跟杰姆说一声再见吗，亚瑟先生?进去吧。”
我领着他穿过大厅。亚历山德拉姑妈坐在杰姆床前。“进来，亚瑟。”她招呼说，“还没有醒来，雷纳兹医生给他服了大剂量的镇静药。琼?路易斯，你爸爸在客厅吗'”
“在，姑妈，我想他在。”
“我要去找他说一句话，雷纳兹医生留下了一些……”她的话音随着她的脚步声消失了。
布又缩到屋角里，老远老远地伸着脖子凝视着杰姆。我走过去拉他的手，那只手显得苍白，却惊人地暖和。我拉了他一下，他让我领着他到杰姆床前。
雷纳兹医生在杰姆的断臂上支起了一个帐篷般的架子，我想，主要是为了把杰姆的断臂和毯子隔开吧。布身子前倾，眼光越过架子看着杰姆，睑上浮现出一种羞怯而好奇的表情，好象从来没有看见过男孩似的。他半张着嘴，把杰姆从头到脚端详了一番。他举起一只手，却又放了下去。
“您可以抚摸他，亚瑟先生，他睡熟了。他没睡时您要摸他，他可不让。”我向他解释说，“摸吧。”
布伸出的手在杰姆脑袋上方摇晃着。
“抚摸他吧，先生，他睡着了。’
他把手轻轻地放在杰姆的头发上。
我开始明白他的动作所发出的语言信号了。他把我的手握得更紧了，这表明他想走了。
我带着他来到前廊，他不自在的步子停了下来，却仍然握着我的手，没有一点想放开的意思。
“送我回家好吗?”
他声音很低，象一个害怕黑暗的小孩的声音。
我伸腿踏在第一级台阶上，但又停住了。我想领他穿过我们的房子，可决不想送他回家。
“亚瑟先生，您把胳膊弯一点儿吧，这样对了。”
我的平挽住他的胳膊。
他不得不稍微弯下身子将就着我。要是斯蒂芬尼?克劳福德小姐在她楼上的窗子里张望的话，一定会看见亚瑟?拉德利在人行道上护送着我，正象别的大人也会这样做一样。
我们来到拐角处的路灯底下。不知道有多少回，迪尔站在这儿抱着那粗大的电杆，杲呆地张望着、等待着、希冀着。也不知道有多少回我和杰姆打这儿经过。但是进拉德利家的大门，这还是平生第二次。我和布登上台阶，来到他家的走廊上。他伸手摸到了门上的把手，然后轻轻放开我的手，打开门，走了进去，把门关上了。打那以后，我再也没有见过他。
我们这儿，死人时邻居送吃的，生病时邻居送鲜花，平时邻居也送一些小礼物。布是我们的邻居，他给了我们两个肥皂雕的娃娃，一块带链的破手表，两枚给人好运气的硬币，还救了我们的命。通常，邻居的馈赠是有来有往的，而我们从来没把从树洞里拿来的东西放回原处，我们什么礼都没有述过，想到这一点，我感到十分内疚。
我转身回家。路灯在通往镇上的整条道上闪烁着。我从来没有从这个角度观察过我们这个地方。那是莫迪小姐家，还有斯蒂芬尼小姐家，再过去是我们家，我可以看见我们走廊上的悬椅，过了我们家，可以清清楚楚地看见雷切尔小姐家。甚至杜搏斯太太家也可以看得见。
我往身后望去，棕色大门的左边是一个长长的百叶窗。我走过去，站在窗子前面，又转过身来。要是在白天，我想，邮局拐角处也一定可以看得见。
白天……啊，我心想，黑夜快要消失了，～蓟白天，附近的地方好不热阉。斯蒂芬尼?克劳福德小姐横过街道，把最新消息告诉雷切尔小姐。莫迪小姐俯身向着她的杜鹃花。夏天一到，两个孩子在人行道上蹦蹦跳跳地朝远处来的一个犬人跑去。那人向他们挥手，他们争先‘恐后地向他跑去。
仍然是夏天，孩子们聚集在一块儿。一个男孩在人行道上慢吞吞地走着，身后拖着一根钓鱼竿。一个大人双手叉腰在等着他。夏天，。他的孩子和孩子们的一个小伙伴在院子里嬉戏，自编自演一场奇怪的小剧。
一到秋天，他的孩子们就在杜博斯太太门前的人行道上打闹。那男孩把他妹妹搀扶起来一道圆家去。秋天，他的孩子们在那街道的拐角处徘徊，脸上带着一天的忧愁和喜悦。在大橡树旁边停了下来，一会儿高兴，一会儿疑惑，一会儿又害怕。
一到冬天，他的孩予们在门前冷得发抖，烈火燃烧的房屋映出了他们的身影。冬天，有个人走上大街，丢掉跟镜，开枪打死了一条狗。
夏天，他看到他的孩子们忧心忡仲，又是秋天，啊，布喜欢的孩子们需要布的帮助。
阿迪克斯说得对，要真正理解一个人，只有站在他的立场，从他的角度，设身处地地考虑问题。只要站在拉德利的走廊上就足够了。
细雨迷漾，路灯昏黑。在回家的路上，我觉得自已年纪很大了。看看自己的鼻尖，我可以看见凝聚在上面的细小的水珠。但是，两眼对视，很不舒服，我不那样看了。回家的路上，我想，明天把这件事告诉杰姆，多妙啊。他一定会为错过了这个机会而大发雷霆，可能一连几天都不会理我。回家的路上，我想，我和杰姆都会长大成人，但是除了可能要学代数以外，没有什么可学的了。
我登上台阶，跑进屋里。亚历山德拉姑妈已经睡了，阿遣克斯的房间里没有灯光。我想看看杰姆是不是苏醒了。阿迪克斯在杰姆房间里，坐在杰姆的床边看书。
“杰姆醒了吗?”
“睡得很安静。要到早上才会醒来。”
“哦。你打算通宵不睡陪着他吗?”
“只陪个把小时。去睡吧，斯各特。你累了一天了。”
“嗯，我要和你一起呆一会儿。”
“随你的便吧。”阿迪克斯说。一定过了半夜了。他这样和蔼地默许我，倒使我感到迷惑。不过，他到底比我猜得准些，我一坐下就想睡觉了。
“你在看什么书?”我问道。
阿迪克斯把书翻过来说；“是杰姆的书，书名是《灰色的幽灵》。”
我突然惊醒过来。“你怎么看这本书呢?”
“宝贝儿，我不知道。随便拿的。这本书我还没看过。”他直率地说。
“请大声读吧，阿迪克斯。这本书真叫人害怕。”
“别读吧，”他说，“这会儿，你已经给吓得够呛了。这本书太……”
“阿迪克斯，我没有吓坏。”
他蹙起了眉头。我分辩道：“至少，在向塔特先生讲述事情经过以前我不怕。杰姆也不怕。在路上我问他怕不怕，他说不怕。再说，除了书上的东西，没有什么东西真正可怕。”
阿迪克斯张嘴想说ff‘么，但又闭上了嘴。他抽出夹在书中问的大拇指翻回到第一页。我挪近身子，把头依偎在他的膝上。“腮，”他开始了，“9灰色的幽灵》，萨克塔利?霍金斯著。第一章……”
我极力使自己不睡着，但是，外面雨声那么轻柔，屋里气氛这样温暖，他的声音这样深沉，他的膝盖又这样使我感到舒服，我一下就睡着了。好象只过了几秒钟，他用鞋子轻轻抵着我的肋部，把我扶起，架着我到我的房间里去。我喃喃地说：“每个字我都听见了，一点也没打瞌睡。说的是一艘船和只有三只手指的弗雷德和斯托纳的孩子……”
他解开我的背带裤，让我靠在他身上，把我的背带裤脱掉。一只手扶着我，一只手去拿我的睡衣。
“是的，大家都以为是斯托纳的孩子把俱乐部搞得乱七八糟，把墨水泼得到处都是……”
他领着我到床边，让我坐下，提起我的双腿，在我身上盖好毯子。
“然后，他们追他，但是抓不到他，因为他们不知道他是什么模祥。阿迪克斯，他们最后看见他的时候，哎呀，他什么都没有做……阿迪克斯，他真好……”
阿迪克斯的双手伸到我下巴下面，把毯子扯上来，帮我塞好。
“斯各特，大多数人都是好人，在你终于了解他们以后。”
他关了灯，回到杰姆的房间去了。整个晚上他都会在杰姆身边，早上杰姆醒来时，他也会在杰姆身边。
