From Francis' Point of View
Summary: This scene is found in chapter 9 of the book, To Kill A
Mockingbird by Harper Lee. This is actually my English homework but
oh, well. ENJOY!
It was Christmas once again and all us Finch's were gathered together once again. A bit of a fuss was held over whether Uncle Atticus should come or not, being as just about everyone in the family saw him as the nigger- lover he was. Him and Scout and Jem came anyway. Grandma had invited them just to be courteous. We had eaten dinner and Scout had gone out the back to try and avoid me. 'Just let her try and run away' I thought 'I'll find her and show her she's not welcome. 'Least not in my eyes'. I went out there and sat beside her on the back steps.
"That was the best yet," she said.
"Grandma's a wonderful cook," I replied, trying my best to be nice, though it took a lot out of me. "She's gonna teach me how."
She gave me a look that said she thought I was out of my mind for saying such a thing. "Boys don't cook!" she said, and giggled, mocking me.
"Grandma says all men should learn to cook, that men oughta be careful with their wives and wait on 'em when they don't feel good," I replied matter-of-factly to try and make her understand.
"I don't want Dill waitin' on me. I'd rather wait on him."
"Dill?" Who was Dill and how come I didn't know anything about him?
"Yeah. Don't say anything about it yet, but we're gonna get married as soon as we're big enough. He asked me last summer."
I hooted. It suddenly occurred to me who this Dill was. I had over- heard Uncle Atticus talking about him.
"What's the matter with him?" she asked confusedly. "There ain't nothin' the matter with 'im."
"You mean that little runt Grandma says stays with Miss Rachel every summer?"
"That's exactly who I mean."
"I know all about him," I said, coolly.
"What about him?"
"Grandma says he hasn't got a home-"
"Has too, he lives in Meridian."
"-he just gets passed around from relative to relative, and Miss Rachel keeps him every summer."
"Francis, that's not so!"
I grinned at her and at how stupid she could be at times. "You're mighty dumb sometimes, Jean Louise. Guess you don't know any better, though."
She tilted her head in a confused matter the way a puppy does when it wants attention. "What do you mean by that?" she asked.
"If Uncle Atticus lets you run around with stray dogs, that's his own business, like Grandma says, so it ain't your fault," 'time to drop the bomb and get her riled up so she gets in trouble', I thought. "I guess it ain't your fault if Uncle Atticus is a nigger-lover besides, but I'm here to tell you it certainly does mortify the rest of the family-"
"Francis, what the hell do you mean?"
"Just what I said. Grandma says it's bad enough he lets you all run around wild, but now he's turned out a nigger-lover we'll never be able to walk the streets of Maycomb agin. He's ruinin' the family's good name, that's what he's doin'."
Then I Stood up and sprinted down the catwalk to the old kitchen. Once I was far enough away so she could hear but the rest of the family couldn't, I yelled "He's nothin' but a nigger-lover!"
Scout's face turned bright red and I thought, 'alright! I've got her mad now!'
"He is not!" she roared. She was very infuriated, indeed. "I don't know what you're talkin' about, but you better cut it out this red hot minute!"
That was when she jumped off the steps and started running towards me and before I knew it, she had me collared. She told me to take what I had said back quick. I had two choices: run and not get beat up, or just let her beat me up. Either way, she'll get in trouble since it's my word against hers. It was easier to jerk loose out of her grasp than I thought. Once I was out of her hold I ran into the old kitchen house, separate from the house like they used to have before the Civil War. I waited a while but I heard no noise whatsoever came out of that little brat of a cousin I was stuck with. I poked my head out of the door and was shocked to see that she was still there. I asked her tentatively if she was still mad.
"Nothing to speak of," she replied.
I came out onto the catwalk.
"You gonna take it back, Fra-ancis?" She asked, trying to draw out the 'a' in my name but was too quick on it. I ran back into the old kitchen. I peered out the window in the door to see what she would do. She had retired to the steps to wait for me, evidently. Then I saw Grandma come out and ask Scout where I was. I saw her point to me and gave me away. I began to panic. I yelled, "Grandma, she's got me in here and she won't let me out!"
She asked Jean Louise what this was all about. I told her she got mad at me.
"Francis, come out of there! Jean Louise, if I hear another word out of you I'll tell your father. Did I hear you say 'hell' a while ago?"
Scout didn't even flinch when Grandma threatened her with her father. She shot a quick death glare at me then answered, "No, ma'am, you didn't," the liar.
"Well, I thought I did and I better not hear it again."
Grandma certainly was a back-porch listener. The moment she was out of sight I came out of the kitchen grinning like a Cheshire cat. Scout glared at me and I said "don't you fool with me."
I jumped into he yard but kept my distance from her. I didn't want to get beat up, not tonight at least. I kicked tufts of grass, turning around occasionally to smile evilly at her. My other cousin, Jem, came out, looked at us, and then went back inside. I climbed the mimosa tree, came down, and put my hands in my pockets. I strolled around the yard some more.
"Ha!" I said. Scout asked me who I thought I was, Uncle Jack? I said I reckoned she got told, for her to just sit there and leave me alone.
"I ain't botherin' you," she said.
I looked at her skeptically, then concluded that I had been sufficiently subdued, and crooned softly, "Nigger-lover . . ." I decided she hadn't gotten into enough trouble for my liking. She split her knuckle on my front teeth, which impaired her left hand. She tried to sail in with her right, but not for long. Uncle Jack pinned her arms to her sides as I laughed silently at my good fortune tonight. He told her to stand still.
Grandma ministered to me, wiping away my fake tears I shed so she would take pity on me with her handkerchief. Uncle Atticus, Cousin Jem and Uncle Jimmy had come to the back porch when I started yelling at Scout again.
"Who started this?" Uncle Jack asked impatiently.
Scout pointed at me as I pointed at her. "Grandma," I bawled, "she called me a whore-lady and jumped on me!" I said, knowing that Scout had no idea what a 'whore-lady' was.
Uncle Jack asked, "Is that true, Scout?"
"I reckon so," she replied.
Uncle Jack looked down at her, his features much like Grandma's. "You know I told you you'd get in trouble if you used words like that? I told you, didn't I?"
"Yes sir, but-"
"Well, you're in trouble now. Stay there."
Mission accomplished.
Summary: This scene is found in chapter 9 of the book, To Kill A
Mockingbird by Harper Lee. This is actually my English homework but
oh, well. ENJOY!
It was Christmas once again and all us Finch's were gathered together once again. A bit of a fuss was held over whether Uncle Atticus should come or not, being as just about everyone in the family saw him as the nigger- lover he was. Him and Scout and Jem came anyway. Grandma had invited them just to be courteous. We had eaten dinner and Scout had gone out the back to try and avoid me. 'Just let her try and run away' I thought 'I'll find her and show her she's not welcome. 'Least not in my eyes'. I went out there and sat beside her on the back steps.
"That was the best yet," she said.
"Grandma's a wonderful cook," I replied, trying my best to be nice, though it took a lot out of me. "She's gonna teach me how."
She gave me a look that said she thought I was out of my mind for saying such a thing. "Boys don't cook!" she said, and giggled, mocking me.
"Grandma says all men should learn to cook, that men oughta be careful with their wives and wait on 'em when they don't feel good," I replied matter-of-factly to try and make her understand.
"I don't want Dill waitin' on me. I'd rather wait on him."
"Dill?" Who was Dill and how come I didn't know anything about him?
"Yeah. Don't say anything about it yet, but we're gonna get married as soon as we're big enough. He asked me last summer."
I hooted. It suddenly occurred to me who this Dill was. I had over- heard Uncle Atticus talking about him.
"What's the matter with him?" she asked confusedly. "There ain't nothin' the matter with 'im."
"You mean that little runt Grandma says stays with Miss Rachel every summer?"
"That's exactly who I mean."
"I know all about him," I said, coolly.
"What about him?"
"Grandma says he hasn't got a home-"
"Has too, he lives in Meridian."
"-he just gets passed around from relative to relative, and Miss Rachel keeps him every summer."
"Francis, that's not so!"
I grinned at her and at how stupid she could be at times. "You're mighty dumb sometimes, Jean Louise. Guess you don't know any better, though."
She tilted her head in a confused matter the way a puppy does when it wants attention. "What do you mean by that?" she asked.
"If Uncle Atticus lets you run around with stray dogs, that's his own business, like Grandma says, so it ain't your fault," 'time to drop the bomb and get her riled up so she gets in trouble', I thought. "I guess it ain't your fault if Uncle Atticus is a nigger-lover besides, but I'm here to tell you it certainly does mortify the rest of the family-"
"Francis, what the hell do you mean?"
"Just what I said. Grandma says it's bad enough he lets you all run around wild, but now he's turned out a nigger-lover we'll never be able to walk the streets of Maycomb agin. He's ruinin' the family's good name, that's what he's doin'."
Then I Stood up and sprinted down the catwalk to the old kitchen. Once I was far enough away so she could hear but the rest of the family couldn't, I yelled "He's nothin' but a nigger-lover!"
Scout's face turned bright red and I thought, 'alright! I've got her mad now!'
"He is not!" she roared. She was very infuriated, indeed. "I don't know what you're talkin' about, but you better cut it out this red hot minute!"
That was when she jumped off the steps and started running towards me and before I knew it, she had me collared. She told me to take what I had said back quick. I had two choices: run and not get beat up, or just let her beat me up. Either way, she'll get in trouble since it's my word against hers. It was easier to jerk loose out of her grasp than I thought. Once I was out of her hold I ran into the old kitchen house, separate from the house like they used to have before the Civil War. I waited a while but I heard no noise whatsoever came out of that little brat of a cousin I was stuck with. I poked my head out of the door and was shocked to see that she was still there. I asked her tentatively if she was still mad.
"Nothing to speak of," she replied.
I came out onto the catwalk.
"You gonna take it back, Fra-ancis?" She asked, trying to draw out the 'a' in my name but was too quick on it. I ran back into the old kitchen. I peered out the window in the door to see what she would do. She had retired to the steps to wait for me, evidently. Then I saw Grandma come out and ask Scout where I was. I saw her point to me and gave me away. I began to panic. I yelled, "Grandma, she's got me in here and she won't let me out!"
She asked Jean Louise what this was all about. I told her she got mad at me.
"Francis, come out of there! Jean Louise, if I hear another word out of you I'll tell your father. Did I hear you say 'hell' a while ago?"
Scout didn't even flinch when Grandma threatened her with her father. She shot a quick death glare at me then answered, "No, ma'am, you didn't," the liar.
"Well, I thought I did and I better not hear it again."
Grandma certainly was a back-porch listener. The moment she was out of sight I came out of the kitchen grinning like a Cheshire cat. Scout glared at me and I said "don't you fool with me."
I jumped into he yard but kept my distance from her. I didn't want to get beat up, not tonight at least. I kicked tufts of grass, turning around occasionally to smile evilly at her. My other cousin, Jem, came out, looked at us, and then went back inside. I climbed the mimosa tree, came down, and put my hands in my pockets. I strolled around the yard some more.
"Ha!" I said. Scout asked me who I thought I was, Uncle Jack? I said I reckoned she got told, for her to just sit there and leave me alone.
"I ain't botherin' you," she said.
I looked at her skeptically, then concluded that I had been sufficiently subdued, and crooned softly, "Nigger-lover . . ." I decided she hadn't gotten into enough trouble for my liking. She split her knuckle on my front teeth, which impaired her left hand. She tried to sail in with her right, but not for long. Uncle Jack pinned her arms to her sides as I laughed silently at my good fortune tonight. He told her to stand still.
Grandma ministered to me, wiping away my fake tears I shed so she would take pity on me with her handkerchief. Uncle Atticus, Cousin Jem and Uncle Jimmy had come to the back porch when I started yelling at Scout again.
"Who started this?" Uncle Jack asked impatiently.
Scout pointed at me as I pointed at her. "Grandma," I bawled, "she called me a whore-lady and jumped on me!" I said, knowing that Scout had no idea what a 'whore-lady' was.
Uncle Jack asked, "Is that true, Scout?"
"I reckon so," she replied.
Uncle Jack looked down at her, his features much like Grandma's. "You know I told you you'd get in trouble if you used words like that? I told you, didn't I?"
"Yes sir, but-"
"Well, you're in trouble now. Stay there."
Mission accomplished.