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           Calpurniastared,thengrabbedusbytheshouldersandranushome.Sheshutthewooddoorbehindus,wenttothetelephoneandshouted,"GimmeMr.Finch’soffice!"

           "Mr.Finch!"sheshouted."ThisisCal.IsweartoGodthere’samaddogdownthestreetapiece—he’scomin’thisway,yessir,he’s—Mr.Finch,Ideclareheis—oldTimJohnson,yessir...yessir...yes—"

           ShehungupandshookherheadwhenwetriedtoaskherwhatAtticushadsaid.Sherattledthetelephonehookandsaid,"MissEulaMay—nowma’am,I’mthroughtalkin’toMr.Finch,pleasedon’tconnectmenomore—listen,MissEulaMay,canyoucallMissRachelandMissStephanieCrawfordandwhoever’sgotaphoneonthisstreetandtell‘emamaddog’scomin’?Pleasema’am!"

           Calpurnialistened."Iknowit’sFebruary,MissEulaMay,butIknowamaddogwhenIseeone.Pleasema’amhurry!"

           CalpurniaaskedJem,"Radleysgotaphone?"

           Jemlookedinthebookandsaidno."Theywon’tcomeoutanyway,Cal."

           "Idon’tcare,I’mgonnatell‘em."

           Sherantothefrontporch,JemandIatherheels."Youstayinthathouse!"sheyelled.

           Calpurnia’smessagehadbeenreceivedbytheneighborhood.Everywooddoorwithinourrangeofvisionwasclosedtight.WesawnotraceofTimJohnson.WewatchedCalpurniarunningtowardtheRadleyPlace,holdingherskirtandapronaboveherknees.Shewentuptothefrontstepsandbangedonthedoor.