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Chapter 9
"UncleJack,pleasepromisemesomethin’,pleasesir.Promiseyouwon’ttellAtticusaboutthis.He—heaskedmeonetimenottoletanythingIheardabouthimmakememad,an’I’drutherhimthinkwewerefightin’aboutsomethin’elseinstead.Pleasepromise..."
"ButIdon’tlikeFrancisgettingawaywithsomethinglikethat—"
"Hedidn’t.Youreckonyoucouldtieupmyhand?It’sstillbleedin’some."
"OfcourseIwill,baby.IknowofnohandIwouldbemoredelightedtotieup.Willyoucomethisway?"
UncleJackgallantlybowedmetothebathroom.Whilehecleanedandbandagedmyknuckles,heentertainedmewithataleaboutafunnynearsightedoldgentlemanwhohadacatnamedHodge,andwhocountedallthecracksinthesidewalkwhenhewenttotown."Therenow,"hesaid."You’llhaveaveryunladylikescaronyourwedding-ringfinger."
"Thankyousir.UncleJack?"
"Ma’am?"
"What’sawhore-lady?"
UncleJackplungedintoanotherlongtaleaboutanoldPrimeMinisterwhosatintheHouseofCommonsandblewfeathersintheairandtriedtokeepthemtherewhenallabouthimmenwerelosingtheirheads.Iguesshewastryingtoanswermyquestion,buthemadenosensewhatsoever.
Later,whenIwassupposedtobeinbed,IwentdownthehallforadrinkofwaterandheardAtticusandUncleJackinthelivingroom:
"Ishallnevermarry,Atticus."
