Boo's transition from the [jailhouse] basement to back home was NEBULOUS in Jem's young memory.

Miss Caroline and I had CONFERRED twice already, and they were looking at me in the innocent assurance that familiarity breeds understanding.

Atticus was EXPOUNDING upon farm problems when Walter interrupted to ask if there was any molasses in the house.

"No, an agreement reached by mutual CONCESSIONS. It works this way," he said.

Jem PARCELLED out our roles: I was Mrs. Radley, and all I had to do was come out and sweep the porch.

How so reasonable a creature could live in PERIL of everlasting torment was incomprehensible.

Jem said PLACIDLY, "We are going to give a note to Boo Radley."

"Gamblin' by my fishpool? I'll strip poker you sir!" Atticus saved Dill from immediate DISMEMBERMENT.

In the WANING moonlight I saw Jem swing his feet to the floor.

For reasons UNFATHOMABLE to the most experienced prophets in Maycomb County, autumn turned to winter that year.

When we were on the sidewalk in front of Miss Maudie's, Mr. Avery aggressively ACCOSTED us.

The fire was well into the second floor and had eaten its way to the roof: window frames were black against a VIVID orange center.

She was CANTANKEROUS to the very end and disapproved heartily of my doings.

No public health officer could free [the family] from their CONGENITAL defects, various worms, and the diseases indigenous to filthy surroundings.

You're putting his life's history on display for the EDIFICATION of the neighborhood.