To Kill a Mockingbird (To Kill a Mockingbird, #1)

by Harper Lee

That spring was a good one: the days grew longer and gave us more playing time. Jem’s mind was occupied mostly with the vital statistics of every college football player in the nation. Every night Atticus would read us the sports pages of the newspapers. Alabama might go to the Rose Bowl again this year, judging from its prospects, not one of whose names we could pronounce. Atticus was in the middle of Windy Seaton’s column one evening when the telephone rang. He answered it, then went to the hat rack in the hall. “I’m going down to Mrs. Dubose’s for a while,” he said. “I won’t be long.” But Atticus stayed away until long past my bedtime. When he returned he was carrying a candy box. Atticus sat down in the living-room and put the box on the floor beside his chair. “What’d she want?” asked Jem. We had not seen Mrs. Dubose for over a month. She was never on the porch any more when we passed. “She’s dead, son,” said Atticus. “She died a few minutes ago.”