He rattled the hook, then said, “Eula May, get me the sheriff, please.”
Heck? Atticus Finch. Someone’s been after my children.
Jem’s hurt. Between here and the schoolhouse. I can’t leave my boy.
Run out there for me, please, and see if he’s still around.
Doubt if you’ll find him now, but I’d like to see him if you do. Got to go now. Thanks, Heck.”
“Atticus, is Jem dead?” “No, Scout. Look after her, sister,” he called, as he went down the hall.
Aunt Alexandra’s fingers trembled as she unwound the crushed fabric and wire from around me.
“Are you all right, darling?” she asked over and over as she worked me free.
It was a relief to be out. My arms were beginning to tingle, and they were red with small hexagonal marks.
I rubbed them, and they felt better. “Aunty, is Jem dead?”
“No—no, darling, he’s unconscious. We won’t know how badly he’s hurt until Dr. Reynolds gets here.
Jean Louise, what happened?” “I don’t know.” She left it at that.
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