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It
suddenly
came
to
me
that
each
day
we
had
been
staying
a
little
longer
at
Mrs
.
Dubose
’
s
,
that
the
alarm
clock
went
off
a
few
minutes
later
every
day
,
and
that
she
was
well
into
one
of
her
fits
by
the
time
it
sounded
.
Today
she
had
antagonized
Jem
for
nearly
two
hours
with
no
intention
of
having
a
fit
,
and
I
felt
hopelessly
trapped
.
The
alarm
clock
was
the
signal
for
our
release
;
if
one
day
it
did
not
ring
,
what
would
we
do
?
"
I
have
a
feeling
that
Jem
’
s
reading
days
are
numbered
,
"
said
Atticus
.
"
Only
a
week
longer
,
I
think
,
"
she
said
,
"
just
to
make
sure
.
.
.
"
Jem
rose
.
"
But
—
"
Atticus
put
out
his
hand
and
Jem
was
silent
.
On
the
way
home
,
Jem
said
he
had
to
do
it
just
for
a
month
and
the
month
was
up
and
it
wasn
’
t
fair
.
"
Just
one
more
week
,
son
,
"
said
Atticus
.
"
No
,
"
said
Jem
.
"
Yes
,
"
said
Atticus
.
The
following
week
found
us
back
at
Mrs
.
Dubose
’
s
.
The
alarm
clock
had
ceased
sounding
,
but
Mrs
.
Dubose
would
release
us
with
,
"
That
’
ll
do
,
"
so
late
in
the
afternoon
Atticus
would
be
home
reading
the
paper
when
we
returned
.
Although
her
fits
had
passed
off
,
she
was
in
every
other
way
her
old
self
:
when
Sir
Walter
Scott
became
involved
in
lengthy
descriptions
of
moats
and
castles
,
Mrs
.
Dubose
would
become
bored
and
pick
on
us
:
"
Jeremy
Finch
,
I
told
you
you
’
d
live
to
regret
tearing
up
my
camellias
.
You
regret
it
now
,
don
’
t
you
?
"
