Убить пересмешника

           Cordsofsalivawouldcollectonherlips;shewoulddrawthemin,thenopenhermouthagain.Hermouthseemedtohaveaprivateexistenceofitsown.Itworkedseparateandapartfromtherestofher,outandin,likeaclamholeatlowtide.Occasionallyitwouldsay,"Pt,"likesomeviscoussubstancecomingtoaboil.

           IpulledJem’ssleeve.

           Helookedatme,thenatthebed.Herheadmadeitsregularsweeptowardus,andJemsaid,"Mrs.Dubose,areyouallright?"Shedidnothearhim.

           Thealarmclockwentoffandscaredusstiff.Aminutelater,nervesstilltingling,JemandIwereonthesidewalkheadedforhome.Wedidnotrunaway,Jessiesentus:beforetheclockwounddownshewasintheroompushingJemandmeoutofit.

           "Shoo,"shesaid,"youallgohome."

           Jemhesitatedatthedoor.

           "It’stimeforhermedicine,"Jessiesaid.AsthedoorswungshutbehindusIsawJessiewalkingquicklytowardMrs.Dubose’sbed.

           Itwasonlythreeforty-fivewhenwegothome,soJemandIdrop-kickedinthebackyarduntilitwastimetomeetAtticus.AtticushadtwoyellowpencilsformeandafootballmagazineforJem,whichIsupposewasasilentrewardforourfirstday’ssessionwithMrs.Dubose.Jemtoldhimwhathappened.

           "Didshefrightenyou?"askedAtticus.

           "Nosir,"saidJem,"butshe’ssonasty.Shehasfitsorsomethin’.Shespitsalot."