It through herself. Thank God, Prissy knew all about midwifery.

Her head ached from the heat and she could feel her basque, soaking

wet from perspiration, sticking to her. Her mind felt numb and so

did her legs, numb as in a nightmare when she tried to run and

could not move them. She thought of the long walk back to the

house and it seemed interminable.

Then, "The Yankees are coming!" began to beat its refrain in her

mind again. Her heart began to pound and new life came into her

limbs. She hurried into the crowd at Five Points, now so thick

there was no room on the narrow sidewalks and she was forced to

walk in the street. Long lines of soldiers were passing, dust

covered, sodden with weariness. There seemed thousands of them,

bearded, dirty, their guns slung over their shoulders, swiftly

passing at route step. Cannon rolled past, the drivers flaying the

thin mules with lengths of rawhide. Commissary wagons with torn

canvas covers rocked through the ruts. Cavalry raising clouds of

choking dust went past endlessly. She had never seen so many

soldiers together before. Retreat! Retreat! The army was moving

out.

The hurrying lines pushed her back onto the packed sidewalk and she

smelled the reek of cheap corn whisky. There were women in the mob

near Decatur Street, garishly dressed women whose bright finery and

painted faces gave a discordant note of holiday. Most of them were

drunk and the soldiers on whose arms they hung were drunker. She

caught a fleeting glimpse of a head of red curls and saw that

creature, Belle Watling, heard her shrill drunken laughter as she

clung for support to a one-armed soldier who reeled and staggered.

When she had shoved and pushed her way through the mob for a block

beyond Five Points the crowd thinned a little and, gathering up her

skirts, she began to run again. When she reached Wesley Chapel,

she was breathless and dizzy and sick at her stomach. Her stays

were cutting her ribs in two. She sank down on the steps of the

church and buried her head in her hands until she could breathe

more easily. If she could only get one deep breath, way down in

her abdomen. If her heart would only stop bumping and drumming and

cavorting. If there were only someone in this mad place to whom

she could turn.

Why, she had never had to do a thing for herself in all her life.

There had always been someone to do things for her, to look after

her, shelter and protect her and spoil her. It was incredible that

she could be in such a fix. Not a friend, not a neighbor to help

her. There had always been friends, neighbors, the competent hands

of willing slaves. And now in this hour of greatest need, there

was no one. It was incredible that she could be so completely

alone, and frightened, and far from home.

Home! If she were only home, Yankees or no Yankees. Home, even if

Ellen was sick. She longed for the sight of Ellen's sweet face,

for Mammy's strong arms around her.

She rose dizzily to her feet and started walking again. When she

came in sight of the house, she saw Wade swinging on the front

gate. When he saw her, his face puckered and he began to cry,

holding up a grubby bruised finger.

"Hurt!" he sobbed. "Hurt!"

"Hush! Hush! Hush! Or I'll spank you. Go out in the back yard

and make mud pies and don't move from there."

"Wade hungwy," he sobbed and put the hurt finger in his mouth.

"I don't care. Go in the back yard and--"

She looked up and saw Prissy leaning out of the upstairs window,

fright and worry written on her face; but in an instant they were

wiped away in relief as she saw her mistress. Scarlett beckoned to

her to come down and went into the house. How cool it was in the

hall. She untied her bonnet and flung it on the table, drawing her

forearms across her wet forehead. She heard the upstairs door open

and a low wailing moan, wrenched from the depths of agony, came to

her ears. Prissy came down the stairs three at a time.

"Is de doctah come?"

"No. He can't come."

"Gawd, Miss Scarlett! Miss Melly bad off!"

"The doctor can't come. Nobody can come. You've got to bring the

baby and I'll help you."

Prissy's mouth fell open and her tongue wagged wordlessly. She

looked at Scarlett sideways and scuffed her feet and twisted her

thin body.

"Don't look so simple minded!" cried Scarlett, infuriated at her

silly expression. "What's the matter?"

Prissy edged back up the stairs.

"Fo' Gawd, Miss Scarlett--" Fright and shame were in her rolling

eyes.

"Well?"

"Fo' Gawd, Miss Scarlett! We's got ter have a doctah. Ah--Ah--

Miss Scarlett, Ah doan know nuthin' 'bout bringin' babies. Maw

wouldn' nebber lemme be 'round folkses whut wuz havin' dem."

All the breath went out of Scarlett's lungs in one gasp of horror

before rage swept her. Prissy made a lunge past her, bent on

flight, but Scarlett grabbed her.

"You black liar--what do you mean? You've been saying you knew

everything about birthing babies. What is the truth? Tell me!"

She shook her until the kinky head rocked drunkenly.

"Ah's lyin', Miss Scarlett! Ah doan know huccome Ah tell sech a

lie. Ah jes' see one baby birthed, an' Maw she lak ter wo' me out

fer watchin'."

Scarlett glared at her and Prissy shrank back, trying to pull

loose. For a moment her mind refused to accept the truth, but when

realization finally came to her that Prissy knew no more about

midwifery than she did, anger went over her like a flame. She had

never struck a slave in all her life, but now she slapped the black

cheek with all the force in her tired arm. Prissy screamed at the

top of her voice, more from fright than pain, and began to dance up

and down, writhing to break Scarlett's grip.

As she screamed, the moaning from the second floor ceased and a

moment later Melanie's voice, weak and trembling, called:

"Scarlett? Is it you? Please come! Please!"

Scarlett dropped Prissy's arm and the wench sank whimpering to the

steps. For a moment Scarlett stood still, looking up, listening to

the low moaning which had begun again. As she stood there, it

seemed as though a yoke descended heavily upon her neck, felt as

though a heavy load were harnessed to it, a load she would feel as

soon as she took a step.

She tried to think of all the things Mammy and Ellen had done for

her when Wade was born but the merciful blurring of the childbirth

pains obscured almost everything in mist. She did recall a few

things and she spoke to Prissy rapidly, authority in her voice.

"Build a fire in the stove and keep hot water boiling in the

kettle. And bring up all the towels you can find and that ball of

twine. And get me the scissors. Don't come telling me you can't

find them. Get them and get them quick. Now hurry."

She jerked Prissy to her feet and sent her kitchenwards with a

shove. Then she squared her shoulders and started up the stairs.