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"
I
’
ve
no
intention
of
letting
it
go
,
"
he
said
.
"
Alexandra
should
know
about
this
.
The
idea
of
—
wait
’
ll
I
get
my
hands
on
that
boy
.
.
.
.
"
"
Uncle
Jack
,
please
promise
me
somethin
’
,
please
sir
.
Promise
you
won
’
t
tell
Atticus
about
this
.
He
—
he
asked
me
one
time
not
to
let
anything
I
heard
about
him
make
me
mad
,
an
’
I
’
d
ruther
him
think
we
were
fightin
’
about
somethin
’
else
instead
.
Please
promise
.
.
.
"
"
But
I
don
’
t
like
Francis
getting
away
with
something
like
that
—
"
"
He
didn
’
t
.
You
reckon
you
could
tie
up
my
hand
?
It
’
s
still
bleedin
’
some
.
"
"
Of
course
I
will
,
baby
.
I
know
of
no
hand
I
would
be
more
delighted
to
tie
up
.
Will
you
come
this
way
?
"
Uncle
Jack
gallantly
bowed
me
to
the
bathroom
.
While
he
cleaned
and
bandaged
my
knuckles
,
he
entertained
me
with
a
tale
about
a
funny
nearsighted
old
gentleman
who
had
a
cat
named
Hodge
,
and
who
counted
all
the
cracks
in
the
sidewalk
when
he
went
to
town
.
"
There
now
,
"
he
said
.
"
You
’
ll
have
a
very
unladylike
scar
on
your
wedding
-
ring
finger
.
"
"
Thank
you
sir
.
Uncle
Jack
?
"
"
Ma
’
am
?
"
"
What
’
s
a
whore
-
lady
?
"
Uncle
Jack
plunged
into
another
long
tale
about
an
old
Prime
Minister
who
sat
in
the
House
of
Commons
and
blew
feathers
in
the
air
and
tried
to
keep
them
there
when
all
about
him
men
were
losing
their
heads
.
I
guess
he
was
trying
to
answer
my
question
,
but
he
made
no
sense
whatsoever
.
