Yesterday, we went to the Finch’s Landing for the annual gathering, but it wasn't an enjoyable gathering. I absolutely hated Francis for making fun of Atticus as a Negro lover and Dill as a homeless. I struck him, which I regretted, but he blamed everything on me, and everyone believed him. I explained everything to Uncle Jack when we got home, and he finally believed. From this, I found that no one wants to listen to younger children, because they think we are young and stupid.
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