Jem sat down in a cane-bottom chair and opened Ivanhoe. I pulled up another one and sat beside him.
The alarm clock would ring, Jessie would shoo us out, and the rest of the day was ours.
It suddenly came to me that each day we had been staying a little longer at Mrs. Dubose’s, that the alarm clock went off a few minutes later every day, and that she was well into one of her fits by the time it sounded.
She had Jessie fix you this box—”
“Old hell-devil, old hell-devil!” he screamed, flinging it down. “Why can’t she leave me alone?”
He picked up the camellia, and when I went off to bed I saw him fingering the wide petals. Atticus was reading the paper.