"Again, Please?" A small voice asked, hesitantly, then stronger, "Again?"
"Again? But I've only just told it to you." The answer came, soft and dry. It dropped softly into the darkened room, revealing the age of the indistinct figure sitting there.
" Ohh! Please?" The question came again, this time more persistently.
"Fine then" the reply came, "I remember when I was young. The trial was the biggest thing to happen her in Maycomb, but it was different then, smaller and still. Not the busy town it is today. Why, it used to…" the dry old voice began, gaining strength as the familiar tale wore on.
"Grandma!" The small voice broke in, impatient. " That's not how it goes!"
"No, I suppose that is another story. Now, where was I?"
"The trial was the biggest thing ever," prompted the small voice.
The old voice chuckled in the darkness. " I believe that you could tell this story better than I could."
"No way! You're the best story teller!" A note of pride came into the small voice. " Please keep going."
" All right, the trial. Tom Robinson was a good man, the best there was. He worked in the fields for my father. He was always helping out. Here and there, he always did some little job for us."
"Like what?" The small boy questioned.
"Oh, lots of things. He would cut firewood, and fix things when daddy wasn't there to. But he was that way with everyone, and that's what really got him in trouble I suppose."
"How does helping make trouble?" Confusion was evident in the little boy's voice.
"Just hold on, and I'll explain. Now, one day Mr. Tate, the sheriff, came out and told us that Tom had been arrested and was going on trial. We didn't know what to think; Tom was such a good man. But the sheriff would only say that it was Mr. Bob Ewell that was putting the charges on him."
Another question came, " But what…"
" Just hush a minute and I'll tell you everything. On the day of the trial we all went into the courthouse. The whole town must have been there. Like I said, it was the most exciting thing ever to happen. We had all heard that Atticus Finch was defending Tom, and for that I was glad. Atticus was a good man. I daresay he had a lot of trouble from folks up until that trial though."
"Why?"
"Why what, child?"
"Why would folks give him trouble for defending Tom?"
" Because Tom was black, honey." A sad sigh came from the old woman.
" So?' A simple reply.
The woman hesitated before answering; "well it was different then. Many people didn't like blacks. You'll understand it when you're older. Now when the trial began, we found out that Tom had been accused of attacking and raping Mayella Ewell."
"What's raping?" The small voice wondered aloud.
" Oh. Well it's… it's," the older voice faltered as the woman searched for the right words to explain, " It's like trying to kiss someone that doesn't want you to."
" Becky tried to kiss me on the playground. It was icky!" The little boy declared vehemently.
"Well that's a little different. You'll understand when you're older." The old voice replied with a smile.
" I guess a lot of stuff is only things grown-ups can understand, huh?" Content with this revelation, the little boy waited for his grandmother to continue.
"Anyway, Mayella was very beat up on one side of her face, her right side. That meant that the person who hurt her was left-handed. Tom hurt his left arm so badly when he was young that he couldn't even move it, let alone hit someone." The old woman trailed off, remembering that moment, and the stir in the courtroom.
" So Tom didn't do it!" The little boy was glad, he liked the sound of Tom Robinson.
" No child, he didn't." The woman replied, still lost in her memories.
" But if he didn't, who hurt her?" The small boy asked.
"Well, when Mr. Finch had Tom up on the stand, he made Tom tell what really happened. Tom said that Mayella had him come inside to get a box down, and he went in. Then when he was inside Mayella tried to kiss him. Now, back then it was a terrible thing for a white girl to kiss a black man. Mr. Ewell saw her and got very mad and hit Mayella. Remember how I said his helping got him in trouble? Well if he had just said he couldn't go in, none of it would have happened." The woman ended with a bitter tone that upset her grandson.
" But he wasn't in trouble, was he? I mean, he didn't do it so he got to go home right?" The boy asked quietly so he wouldn't upset her further.
The old woman heaved a sigh, " no, honey, I'm afraid that's not how it worked back then. The jury found him guilty."
"Oh," the little boy replied in a quiet voice.
"Yes. And soon after, Tom was killed at the prison. He was running to get away, even though Mr. Finch probably could have got him out." The old woman's voice was heavy with sadness.
Her young grandson crawled up in her lap, and gave her a hug. " Someday, I'm gonna be a lawyer. Then I'll make it better."
"I'm sure you will," his grandmother replied, holding him tight. "I'm sure you will."
"Again? But I've only just told it to you." The answer came, soft and dry. It dropped softly into the darkened room, revealing the age of the indistinct figure sitting there.
" Ohh! Please?" The question came again, this time more persistently.
"Fine then" the reply came, "I remember when I was young. The trial was the biggest thing to happen her in Maycomb, but it was different then, smaller and still. Not the busy town it is today. Why, it used to…" the dry old voice began, gaining strength as the familiar tale wore on.
"Grandma!" The small voice broke in, impatient. " That's not how it goes!"
"No, I suppose that is another story. Now, where was I?"
"The trial was the biggest thing ever," prompted the small voice.
The old voice chuckled in the darkness. " I believe that you could tell this story better than I could."
"No way! You're the best story teller!" A note of pride came into the small voice. " Please keep going."
" All right, the trial. Tom Robinson was a good man, the best there was. He worked in the fields for my father. He was always helping out. Here and there, he always did some little job for us."
"Like what?" The small boy questioned.
"Oh, lots of things. He would cut firewood, and fix things when daddy wasn't there to. But he was that way with everyone, and that's what really got him in trouble I suppose."
"How does helping make trouble?" Confusion was evident in the little boy's voice.
"Just hold on, and I'll explain. Now, one day Mr. Tate, the sheriff, came out and told us that Tom had been arrested and was going on trial. We didn't know what to think; Tom was such a good man. But the sheriff would only say that it was Mr. Bob Ewell that was putting the charges on him."
Another question came, " But what…"
" Just hush a minute and I'll tell you everything. On the day of the trial we all went into the courthouse. The whole town must have been there. Like I said, it was the most exciting thing ever to happen. We had all heard that Atticus Finch was defending Tom, and for that I was glad. Atticus was a good man. I daresay he had a lot of trouble from folks up until that trial though."
"Why?"
"Why what, child?"
"Why would folks give him trouble for defending Tom?"
" Because Tom was black, honey." A sad sigh came from the old woman.
" So?' A simple reply.
The woman hesitated before answering; "well it was different then. Many people didn't like blacks. You'll understand it when you're older. Now when the trial began, we found out that Tom had been accused of attacking and raping Mayella Ewell."
"What's raping?" The small voice wondered aloud.
" Oh. Well it's… it's," the older voice faltered as the woman searched for the right words to explain, " It's like trying to kiss someone that doesn't want you to."
" Becky tried to kiss me on the playground. It was icky!" The little boy declared vehemently.
"Well that's a little different. You'll understand when you're older." The old voice replied with a smile.
" I guess a lot of stuff is only things grown-ups can understand, huh?" Content with this revelation, the little boy waited for his grandmother to continue.
"Anyway, Mayella was very beat up on one side of her face, her right side. That meant that the person who hurt her was left-handed. Tom hurt his left arm so badly when he was young that he couldn't even move it, let alone hit someone." The old woman trailed off, remembering that moment, and the stir in the courtroom.
" So Tom didn't do it!" The little boy was glad, he liked the sound of Tom Robinson.
" No child, he didn't." The woman replied, still lost in her memories.
" But if he didn't, who hurt her?" The small boy asked.
"Well, when Mr. Finch had Tom up on the stand, he made Tom tell what really happened. Tom said that Mayella had him come inside to get a box down, and he went in. Then when he was inside Mayella tried to kiss him. Now, back then it was a terrible thing for a white girl to kiss a black man. Mr. Ewell saw her and got very mad and hit Mayella. Remember how I said his helping got him in trouble? Well if he had just said he couldn't go in, none of it would have happened." The woman ended with a bitter tone that upset her grandson.
" But he wasn't in trouble, was he? I mean, he didn't do it so he got to go home right?" The boy asked quietly so he wouldn't upset her further.
The old woman heaved a sigh, " no, honey, I'm afraid that's not how it worked back then. The jury found him guilty."
"Oh," the little boy replied in a quiet voice.
"Yes. And soon after, Tom was killed at the prison. He was running to get away, even though Mr. Finch probably could have got him out." The old woman's voice was heavy with sadness.
Her young grandson crawled up in her lap, and gave her a hug. " Someday, I'm gonna be a lawyer. Then I'll make it better."
"I'm sure you will," his grandmother replied, holding him tight. "I'm sure you will."