Chapter 31

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.