In their paddock. Mules are misbegotten, unnatural critters and it

ought to be illegal to breed them."

Jim Tarleton, completely disguised by a bushy beard, came out of

the overseer's house to welcome and kiss the girls and his four

red-haired daughters in mended dresses streamed out behind him,

tripping over the dozen black and tan hounds which ran barking to

the door at the sound of strange voices. There was an air of

studied and determined cheerfulness about the whole family which

brought a colder chill to Scarlett's bones than the bitterness of

Mimosa or the deathly brooding of Pine Bloom.

The Tarletons insisted that the girls stay for dinner, saying they

had so few guests these days and wanted to hear all the news.

Scarlett did not want to linger, for the atmosphere oppressed her,

but Melanie and her two sisters were anxious for a longer visit, so

the four stayed for dinner and ate sparingly of the side meat and

dried peas which were served them.

There was laughter about the skimpy fare and the Tarleton girls

giggled as they told of makeshifts for clothes, as if they were

telling the most amusing of jokes. Melanie met them halfway,

surprising Scarlett with her unexpected vivacity as she told of

trials at Tara, making light of hardships. Scarlett could hardly

speak at all. The room seemed so empty without the four great

Tarleton boys, lounging and smoking and teasing. And if it seemed

empty to her, what must it seem to the Tarletons who were offering

a smiling front to their neighbors?

Carreen had said little during the meal but when it was over she

slipped over to Mrs. Tarleton's side and whispered something. Mrs.

Tarleton's face changed and the brittle smile left her lips as she

put her arm around Carreen's slender waist. They left the room,

and Scarlett, who felt she could not endure the house another

minute, followed them. They went down the path through the garden

and Scarlett saw they were going toward the burying ground. Well,

she couldn't go back to the house now. It would seem too rude.

But what on earth did Carreen mean dragging Mrs. Tarleton out to

the boys' graves when Beatrice was trying so hard to be brave?

There were two new marble markers in the brick-inclosed lot under

the funereal cedars--so new that no rain had splashed them with red

dust.

"We got them last week," said Mrs. Tarleton proudly. "Mr. Tarleton

went to Macon and brought them home in the wagon."

Tombstones! And what they must have cost! Suddenly Scarlett did

not feel as sorry for the Tarletons as she had at first. Anybody

who would waste precious money on tombstones when food was so dear,

so almost unattainable, didn't deserve sympathy. And there were

several lines carved on each of the stones. The more carving, the

more money. The whole family must be crazy! And it had cost

money, too, to bring the three boys' bodies home. They had never

found Boyd or any trace of him.

Between the graves of Brent and Stuart was a stone which read:

"They were lovely and pleasant in their lives, and in their death

they were not divided."

On the other stone were the names of Boyd and Tom with something in

Latin which began "Dulce et--" but it meant nothing to Scarlett who

had managed to evade Latin at the Fayetteville Academy.

All that money for tombstones! Why, they were fools! She felt as

indignant as if her own money had been squandered.

Carreen's eyes were shining oddly.

"I think it's lovely," she whispered pointing to the first stone.

Carreen would think it lovely. Anything sentimental stirred her.

"Yes," said Mrs. Tarleton and her voice was soft, "we thought it

very fitting--they died almost at the same time. Stuart first and

then Brent who caught up the flag he dropped."

As the girls drove back to Tara, Scarlett was silent for a while,

thinking of what she had seen in the various homes, remembering

against her will the County in its glory, with visitors at all the

big houses and money plentiful, negroes crowding the quarters and

the well-tended fields glorious with cotton.

"In another year, there'll be little pines all over these fields,"

she thought and looking toward the encircling forest she shuddered.

"Without the darkies, it will be all we can do to keep body and

soul together. Nobody can run a big plantation without the

darkies, and lots of the fields won't be cultivated at all and the

woods will take over the fields again. Nobody can plant much

cotton, and what will we do then? What'll become of country folks?

Town folks can manage somehow. They've always managed. But we

country folks will go back a hundred years like the pioneers who

had little cabins and just scratched a few acres--and barely

existed.

"No--" she thought grimly, "Tara isn't going to be like that. Not

even if I have to plow myself. This whole section, this whole

state can go back to woods if it wants to, but I won't let Tara go.

And I don't intend to waste my money on tombstones or my time

crying about the war. We can make out somehow. I know we could

make out somehow if the men weren't all dead. Losing the darkies