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Atticus
got
up
from
his
chair
,
but
he
was
moving
slowly
,
like
an
old
man
.
He
put
the
newspaper
down
very
carefully
,
adjusting
its
creases
with
lingering
fingers
.
They
were
trembling
a
little
.
"
Go
home
,
Jem
,
"
he
said
.
"
Take
Scout
and
Dill
home
.
"
We
were
accustomed
to
prompt
,
if
not
always
cheerful
acquiescence
to
Atticus
’
s
instructions
,
but
from
the
way
he
stood
Jem
was
not
thinking
of
budging
.
"
Go
home
,
I
said
.
"
Jem
shook
his
head
.
As
Atticus
’
s
fists
went
to
his
,
so
did
Jem
’
s
,
and
as
they
faced
each
other
I
could
see
little
resemblance
between
them
:
Jem
’
s
soft
brown
hair
and
eyes
,
his
oval
face
and
snug
-
fitting
ears
were
our
mother
’
s
,
contrasting
oddly
with
Atticus
’
s
graying
black
hair
and
square
-
cut
features
,
but
they
were
somehow
alike
.
Mutual
defiance
made
them
alike
.
"
Son
,
I
said
go
home
.
"
Jem
shook
his
head
.
"
I
’
ll
send
him
home
,
"
a
burly
man
said
,
and
grabbed
Jem
roughly
by
the
collar
.
He
yanked
Jem
nearly
off
his
feet
.
"
Don
’
t
you
touch
him
!
"
I
kicked
the
man
swiftly
.
Barefooted
,
I
was
surprised
to
see
him
fall
back
in
real
pain
.
I
intended
to
kick
his
shin
,
but
aimed
too
high
.
