In anger and apprehension and her lip was pushed out farther than

Scarlett could ever remember. She peered quickly at Frank and,

when she saw who it was, her face changed--pleasure, bewilderment

and something akin to guilt spreading over it. She waddled forward

to Frank with pleased greetings and grinned and curtsied when he

shook her hand.

"It sho is good ter see home folks," she said. "How is you, Mist'

Frank? My, ain' you lookin' fine an' gran'! Effen Ah'd knowed

Miss Scarlett wuz out wid you, Ah wouldn' worrit so. Ah'd knowed

she wuz tekken keer of. Ah come back hyah an' fine she gone an' Ah

been as 'stracted as a chicken wid its haid off, thinkin' she

runnin' roun' dis town by herseff wid all dese trashy free issue

niggers on de street. Huccome you din' tell me you gwine out,

honey? An' you wid a cole!"

Scarlett winked slyly at Frank and, for all his distress at the bad

news he had just heard, he smiled, knowing she was enjoining

silence and making him one in a pleasant conspiracy.

"You run up and fix me some dry clothes, Mammy," she said. "And

some hot tea."

"Lawd, yo' new dress is plum ruint," grumbled Mammy. "Ah gwine

have a time dryin' it an' brushin' it, so it'll be fit ter be wo'

ter de weddin' ternight."

She went into the house and Scarlett leaned close to Frank and

whispered: "Do come to supper tonight. We are so lonesome. And

we're going to the wedding afterward. Do be our escort! And,

please don't say anything to Aunt Pitty about--about Suellen. It

would distress her so much and I can't bear for her to know that my

sister--"

"Oh, I won't! I won't!" Frank said hastily, wincing from the very

thought.

"You've been so sweet to me today and done me so much good. I feel

right brave again." She squeezed his hand in parting and turned

the full battery of her eyes upon him.

Mammy, who was waiting just inside the door, gave her an inscrutable

look and followed her, puffing, up the stairs to the bedroom. She

was silent while she stripped off the wet clothes and hung them over

chairs and tucked Scarlett into bed. When she had brought up a cup

of hot tea and a hot brick, rolled in flannel, she looked down at

Scarlett and said, with the nearest approach to an apology in her

Voice Scarlett had ever heard: "Lamb, huccome you din' tell yo' own

Mammy whut you wuz upter? Den Ah wouldn' had ter traipse all dis

way up hyah ter 'Lanta. Ah is too ole an' too fat fer sech runnin'

roun'."

"What do you mean?"

"Honey, you kain fool me. Ah knows you. An' Ah seed Mist' Frank's

face jes' now an' Ah seed yo' face, an' Ah kin read yo' mine lak a

pahson read a Bible. An' Ah heerd dat whisperin' you wuz givin'

him 'bout Miss Suellen. Effen Ah'd had a notion 'twuz Mist' Frank

you wuz affer, Ah'd stayed home whar Ah b'longs."

"Well," said Scarlett shortly, snuggling under the blankets and

realizing it was useless to try to throw Mammy off the scent, "who

did you think it was?"

"Chile, Ah din' know but Ah din' lak de look on yo' face yestiddy.

An' Ah 'membered Miss Pittypat writin' Miss Melly dat dat

rapscallion Butler man had lots of money an' Ah doan fergit whut Ah

hears. But Mist' Frank, he a gempmum even ef he ain' so pretty."

Scarlett gave her a sharp look and Mammy returned the gaze with

calm omniscience.

"Well, what are you going to do about it? Tattle to Suellen?"

"Ah is gwine ter he'p you pleasure Mist' Frank eve'y way Ah knows

how," said Mammy, tucking the covers about Scarlett's neck.

Scarlett lay quietly for a while, as Mammy fussed about the room,

relief flooding her that there was no need for words between them.

No explanations were asked, no reproaches made. Mammy understood

and was silent. In Mammy, Scarlett had found a realist more

uncompromising than herself. The mottled wise old eyes saw deeply,

saw clearly, with the directness of the savage and the child,

undeterred by conscience when danger threatened her pet. Scarlett

was her baby and what her baby wanted, even though it belonged to

another, Mammy was willing to help her obtain. The rights of

Suellen and Frank Kennedy did not even enter her mind, save to

cause a grim inward chuckle. Scarlett was in trouble and doing the

best she could, and Scarlett was Miss Ellen's child. Mammy rallied

to her with never a moment's hesitation.

Scarlett felt the silent reinforcement and, as the hot brick at her

feet warmed her, the hope which had flickered faintly on the cold

ride home grew into a flame. It swept through her, making her

heart pump the blood through her veins in pounding surges.

Strength was coming back and a reckless excitement which made her

want to laugh aloud. Not beaten yet, she thought exultantly.

"Hand me the mirror, Mammy," she said.

"Keep yo' shoulders unner dat kivver," ordered Mammy, passing the

hand mirror to her, a smile on her thick lips.

Scarlett looked at herself.

"I look white as a hant," she said, "and my hair is as wild as a

horse's tail."

"You doan look peart as you mout."

"Hum. . . . Is it raining very hard?"

"You know it's po'in'."

"Well, just the same, you've got to go downtown for me."

"Not in dis rain, Ah ain'."

"Yes, you are or I'll go myself."

"Whut you got ter do dat woan wait? Look ter me lak you done nuff

fer one day."

"I want," said Scarlett, surveying herself carefully in the mirror,

"a bottle of cologne water. You can wash my hair and rinse it with

cologne. And buy me a jar of quince-seed jelly to make it lie down

flat."

"Ah ain' gwine wash yo' ha'r in dis wedder an' you ain' gwine put

no cologne on yo' haid lak a fas' woman needer. Not w'ile Ah got

breaf in mah body."

"Oh, yes, I am. Look in my purse and get that five-dollar gold

piece out and go to town. And--er, Mammy, while you are downtown,

you might get me a--a pot of rouge."

"Whut dat?" asked Mammy suspiciously.

Scarlett met her eyes with a coldness she was far from feeling.

There was never any way of knowing just how far Mammy could be

bullied.

"Never you mind. Just ask for it."

"Ah ain' buyin nuthin' dat Ah doan know whut 'tis."

"Well, it's paint, if you're so curious! Face paint. Don't stand

there and swell up like a toad. Go on."

"Paint!" ejaculated Mammy. "Face paint! Well, you ain' so big dat

Ah kain whup you! Ah ain' never been so scan'lized! You is los'

yo' mine! Miss Ellen be tuhnin' in her grabe dis minute! Paintin'

yo face lak a--"

"You know very well Grandma Robillard painted her face and--"

"Yas'm, an' wo' only one petticoat an' it wrang out wid water ter

mek it stick an' show de shape of her laigs, but dat ain' sayin'

you is gwine do sumpin' lak dat! Times wuz scan'lous w'en Ole Miss

wuz young but times changes, dey do an'--"

"Name of God!" cried Scarlett, losing her temper and throwing back

the covers. "You can go straight back to Tara!"

"You kain sen' me ter Tara ness Ah wants ter go. Ah is free," said

Mammy heatedly. "An' Ah is gwine ter stay right hyah. Git back in

dat baid. Does you want ter ketch pneumony jes' now? Put down dem

stays! Put dem down, honey. Now, Miss Scarlett, you ain' gwine

nowhars in dis wedder. Lawd God! But you sho look lak yo' pa!

Git back in baid--Ah kain go buyin' no paint! Ah die of shame,

eve'ybody knowin 'it wud fer mah chile! Miss Scarlett, you is so

sweet an' pretty lookin' you doan need no paint. Honey, doan

nobody but bad womens use dat stuff."

"Well, they get results, don't they?"

"Jesus, hear her! Lamb, doan say bad things lak dat! Put down dem

wet stockin's, honey. Ah kain have you buy dat stuff yo'seff.

Miss Ellen would hant me. Git back in baid. Ah'll go. Maybe Ah

fine me a sto' whar dey doan know us."

That night at Mrs. Elsing's, when Fanny had been duly married and

old Levi and the other musicians were tuning up for the dance,

Scarlett looked about her with gladness. It was so exciting to be

actually at a party again. She was pleased also with the warm

reception she had received. When she entered the house on Frank's

arm, everyone had rushed to her with cries of pleasure and welcome,

kissed her, shaken her hand, told her they had missed her

dreadfully and that she must never go back to Tara. The men seemed

gallantly to have forgotten she had tried her best to break their

hearts in other days and the girls that she had done everything in

her power to entice their beaux away from them. Even Mrs.

Merriwether, Mrs. Whiting, Mrs. Meade and the other dowagers who

had been so cool to her during the last days of the war, forgot her

flighty conduct and their disapproval of it and recalled only that

she had suffered in their common defeat and that she was Pitty's

niece and Charles' widow. They kissed her and spoke gently with

tears in their eyes of her dear mother's passing and asked at

length about her father and her sisters. Everyone asked about

Melanie and Ashley, demanding the reason why they, too, had not

come back to Atlanta.