In Chapter 15, a mob of townspeople has assembled at the jailhouse, presumably to lynch Tom. They are trying to work their way inside past Atticus when Scout shows up, talks to one of the men politely, and (even though she doesn't realize it) essentially reminds them that they are humans and individuals, that they don't have to be a bloodthirsty mob. The men leave.
Let's take a closer look at the scene. Here's how the mob arrives. Notice how frightening and threatening the men are acting, yet Atticus is trying to treat them with courtesy:
In ones and twos, men got out of the cars. Shadows became substance as lights revealed solid shapes moving toward the jail door. Atticus remained where he was. The men hid him from view.
“He in there, Mr. Finch?” a man said.
“He is,” we heard Atticus answer, “and he’s asleep. Don’t wake him up.”
In obedience to my father, there followed what I later realized was a sickeningly comic aspect of an unfunny situation: the men talked in near-whispers. “You know what we want,” another man said. “Get aside from the door, Mr. Finch.”
We find out that these men have made sure to keep the sheriff away by sending him off on a fake errand. So the men clearly are planning to do something violent here to Tom. The kids (Scout, Jem, and Dill) have been watching the scene up until this point, but Scout bursts onto the scene. Notice the details about how smelly (like animals) the men are, and how she enters a "circle of light," which probably represents human reason as opposed to the "dark" of the bodies in the unreasonable mob:
I pushed my way through dark smelly bodies and burst into the circle of light.
Atticus tries to get his kids to go home, knowing the situation is dangerous, but they refuse. One of the men nearly attacks Jem, and Scout quickly retaliates:
“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.
Scout's actions, as you can see, are sloppy and emotional. But then she notices Mr. Cunningham, a man she knows, in the crowd. Feeling awkward but sensing that it's a good time to make polite conversation, Scout tries to talk to Mr. Cunningham about his son:
“He’s in my grade,” I said, “and he does right well. He’s a good boy,” I added, “a real nice boy. We brought him home for dinner one time. Maybe he told you about me, I beat him up one time but he was real nice about it. Tell him hey for me, won’t you?”
She doesn't get much of a response from Mr. Cunningham, who's probably reeling from the shock of this reminder of his humanity. Scout is basically talking to him as if he's a friend and a good father, and it's probably unnerving for Mr. Cunningham, who's there with his compatriots to commit murder. She tries talking to him about his entailments, also (a legal issue he's going through, which Scout knows about thanks to Atticus).
Mr. Cunningham eventually responds to Scout, then commands the other men to disperse:
I looked around and up at Mr. Cunningham, whose face was equally impassive. Then he did a peculiar thing. He squatted down and took me by both shoulders.
“I’ll tell him you said hey, little lady,” he said.
Then he straightened up and waved a big paw. “Let’s clear out,” he called. “Let’s get going, boys.”
As they had come, in ones and twos the men shuffled back to their ramshackle cars. Doors slammed, engines coughed, and they were gone.
Some readers have criticized this scene, saying how it's pretty unlikely that, for one, little innocent Scout could change these men's minds, and two, that she could do it without realizing what was happening. She can't be THAT naive, can she? Other people really love this scene for the power that Scout's innocence exerts against the forces of violence and the thirst for revenge.
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