"What? What did you say?" yelled Marcy. Her dark face turned pale. Behind her, Harry was sweating and his throat was dry. At the door was Heck Tate, his hat by his knees.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Johnson, but he was mad and rabid. We had to," Heck said politely.
"You had no right to kill our dog! This is an absolute felony!" yelled Harry.
"He was rabid, Mr. Johnson, and in case if you don't know Maycomb law, rabid dogs are to be dealt with. Atticus wanted me to send his condolences as well," Heck said.
"No one will ever make me happy, no matter who it comes from," Marcy said.
"I... I don't know what to tell you then," Heck said. "Tim's dead, that's that. It's the simplest way I can explain it to you."
"But he wasn't even rabid! He looked perfectly fine when we left three days ago," Harry said.
"Well, I don't know then. If there's anything you need, come to me. Don't bother bringing it up in court. We're very busy with this Tom Robinson case. It has the whole town enraged," Heck said.
Marcy didn't say anything and slammed the door. She burst into tears and fell into Harry's arm, who stood still. He seemed lost in an unknown world as he stared into the midst.
"They killed our poor Tim!" Marcy said, trying to regain her breath. "What... what are we going to do?"
Harry smoothly rubbed her back, still staring into oblivion.
"They had no right!" she screamed.
"I know, I'm just as upset," Harry said gently. Marcy pushed away from him.
"Just as upset? You're not even weeping, you coward! Our dog died! What have you to say?"
Harry shrugged. "He wasn't our dog, Marcy. He told us that, remember?"
"Yes, yes, but he was the best thing we've ever had! Why? That stupid Atticus Finch and that spineless Heck Tate! This town is full of invertebrates!" Marcy growled, swallowing her tears. "I want to go to Judge Taylor right now and tell him everything!"
"Who'll listen us, dear?" Harry asked. "We're not important. Tim was. And you heard what the sheriff said. They're busy on this Robinson case. It's bad news. Convicted of raping a young woman. A Ewell, actually."
"I don't care who raped who, I just want Tim back," cried Marcy. "And also, what about the mortgage? We can't afford it, Harry, we just can't! We'll have to move again. It's so sad, I started to adapt to this city. I made friends with this one lady, Calpurnia, and her son, Zeebo, and also with that nice Ms. Maudie Atkinson."
"It's the course of life, honey, we just need to accept it," Harry said.
Suddenly, the phone rang. Realizing Marcy wouldn't budge, Harry picked it up. "Yes, hello?" On the other line was Robert.
"This is Robert Neville. I just wanted to give my regards to your devastating loss," Robert said, trying not to shed tears but was somehow convicted to do so.
"Well, thanks, Rob. It's been a while," Harry said.
"Um... yes, it has," Robert said. He took a deep breath. "Listen... Tim probably never brought this up to you, but he had a fortune and gave it to me."
That set Harry on fire. "What?" he screamed. "Tim had a fortune and he never told us?"
"He didn't trust you, and I have to say I take part in that. I'm sincerely sorry, but Tim would've given it to you if he, well, trusted you." "Didn't trust us? We're his owners!" Harry said, forgetting what he had told his wife.
"No, no you aren't. Tim would never forget to tell anyone that he has no owner. He's the owner of himself. It's how it works. But, I do apologize for this critical message."
"You better, you slick-headed numbskull. We're bankrupt because of you. Why can't you just split the fortune with us?" Harry protested.
"I can't. It's Tim's. I'm lucky to even have it! But you never gained his trust. Maybe he would've given it to you, but he felt sorry for me. I have nothing. My store was destroyed and my bill for the hospital is stunningly high."
"So... you're just going to leave us to rot?" Harry asked.
"Harry, we're both are doctors. Go out and be one. We're free. We don't have to live in fear anymore. That's what's holding you back."
"Don't come calling me and trying to lecture about idealism. You don't feel sorry for me at all. Life was easy for you, Rob, but it killed me. You're just one of 'em looking breeds," Harry said.
"Again, I'm sorry. And I'm terribly sorry about your fatal loss," Robert said. Harry just hung up and ran his fingers on his bald scalp. "Well? Who was it?" Marcy asked.
"Neville. He told me Tim had a... a fortune," Harry said.
Marcy almost fainted. Harry helped Marcy to a couch. Marcy slumped in the seat.
"We're done for, Harry, we're done," she said.
"I'll try to find a job, I promise. And I'll try to find a better living place, too," Harry said. As Marcy sank into the seat, Harry ran to the phone, dialing numbers. Finally, after a few hours, he ran back.
"I got it! There's this family in Chicago willing to help us!" he said.
"Chicago? Of all places..." Marcy smirked.
"Yes, I spoke with the mother. Said her name was Mrs. Younger," Harry said.
"Is her son, by chance, Walter Younger? He was a class fool when I went to elementary school," Marcy said. "I don't know, but they're willing to share their living space with us. We just have to pay a little rent but not completely."
And so, the Johnsons packed their things and stowed away on a train to Chicago. The Younger family consisted of mama, the man, Walter, his wife, Ruth, Walter's sister, Benetha, and Walter's son, Travis. The Johnsons became annoying to them and Walter and Harry would compete each morning to use the shower. Harry became a real estate person and Marcy became a house maiden to a wealthy family. And that's the happy ending of the Harry and Marcy's tale.