He reminded me of a car stuck in a sandbed. “He’s gone lopsided,” said Jem.
Calpurnia stared, then grabbed us by the shoulders and ran us home.
She shut the wood door behind us, went to the telephone and shouted, “Gimme Mr. Finch’s office!”
“Mr. Finch!” she shouted. “This is Cal. I swear to God there’s a mad dog down the street a piece—he’s comin‘ this way, yes sir,
he’s—Mr. Finch, I declare he is —old Tim Johnson, yes sir… yessir… yes—”
She hung up and shook her head when we tried to ask her what Atticus had said.
She rattled the telephone hook and said, “Miss Eula May—now ma’am, I’m through talkin‘ to Mr. Finch,
please don’t connect me no more—listen, Miss Eula May,
can you call Miss Rachel and Miss Stephanie Crawford and whoever’s got a phone on this street
and tell ’em a mad dog’s comin‘? Please ma’am!”
Calpurnia listened. “I know it’s February, Miss Eula May, but I know a mad dog when I see one. Please ma’am hurry!”
Calpurnia asked Jem, “Radleys got a phone?” Jem looked in the book and said no.
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