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Chapter 8
"Oh,"saidJem."Atticus,reckonweoughtastartmovingthefurnitureout?"
"Notyet,son.DoasItellyou.Runnow.TakecareofScout,youhear?Don’tletheroutofyoursight."
Withapush,AtticusstartedustowardtheRadleyfrontgate.WestoodwatchingthestreetfillwithmenandcarswhilefiresilentlydevouredMissMaudie’shouse."Whydon’ttheyhurry,whydon’ttheyhurry..."mutteredJem.
Wesawwhy.Theoldfiretruck,killedbythecold,wasbeingpushedfromtownbyacrowdofmen.Whenthemenattacheditshosetoahydrant,thehoseburstandwatershotup,tinklingdownonthepavement.
"Oh-hLord,Jem..."
Jemputhisarmaroundme."Hush,Scout,"hesaid."Itain’ttimetoworryyet.I’llletyouknowwhen."
ThemenofMaycomb,inalldegreesofdressandundress,tookfurniturefromMissMaudie’shousetoayardacrossthestreet.IsawAtticuscarryingMissMaudie’sheavyoakrockingchair,andthoughtitsensibleofhimtosavewhatshevaluedmost.
Sometimesweheardshouts.ThenMr.Avery’sfaceappearedinanupstairswindow.Hepushedamattressoutthewindowintothestreetandthrewdownfurnitureuntilmenshouted,"Comedownfromthere,Dick!Thestairsaregoing!Getouttathere,Mr.Avery!"
Mr.Averybeganclimbingthroughthewindow.
"Scout,he’sstuck..."breathedJem."OhGod..."
