“You can pet him, Mr. Arthur. He's asleep...”

“Mr. Bridgerton?" she asked softly. "Mr. Bridgerton!" Benedict's head jerked up violently."What? What?""You fell asleep."He blinked confusedly. "Is there a reason that's bad?""You can't fall asleep in your clothing.”

“Henry went down on one knee. 'Like King Arthur's knights,' Mr. Fogarty had told him, but he didn't feel much like a knight. In fact he felt like a twit.”

“When I pointed to him his palms slipped slightly, leaving greasy sweat streaks on the wall, and he hooked his thumbs in his belt. A strange spasm shook him, as if he heard fingernails scrape slate, but as I gazed at him in wonder the tension slowly drained from his face. His lips parted into a timid smile, and our neighbor’s image blurred with my sudden tears.“Hey, Boo,” I said.“Mr. Arthur, honey,” said Atticus, gently correcting me. “Jean Louise, this is Mr. Arthur Radley. I believe he already knows you.”

“Nobody. Mr nobody. Mr bones and mr had enough and mr arthur itis. Now get out and leave me alone.”

“I want to hold my grandpa in my arms and pet him while I fall asleep. That’s why I’m learning to play the guitar.”