I turned to flee but Uncle Jack was quicker. I found myself suddenly looking at a tiny ant struggling with a bread crumb in the grass.
I’ll never speak to you again as long as I live! I hate you an‘ despise you an’ hope you die tomorrow!”
A statement that seemed to encourage Uncle Jack, more than anything.
I ran to Atticus for comfort, but he said I had it coming and it was high time we went home.
I climbed into the back seat of the car without saying good-bye to anyone, and at home I ran to my room and slammed the door.
Jem tried to say something nice, but I wouldn’t let him.
When I surveyed the damage there were only seven or eight red marks, and I was reflecting upon relativity when someone knocked on the door.
I asked who it was; Uncle Jack answered. “Go away!” Uncle Jack said if I talked like that he’d lick me again, so I was quiet.
When he entered the room I retreated to a corner and turned my back on him. “Scout,” he said, “do you still hate me?”
“Go on, please sir.” “Why, I didn’t think you’d hold it against me,” he said. “I’m disappointed in you —you had that coming and you know it.”
“Didn’t either.” “Honey, you can’t go around calling people—” “You ain’t fair,” I said, “you ain’t fair.”
Uncle Jack’s eyebrows went up. “Not fair? How not?”
전체재생
다음페이지
문장검색