Immediately the fires which smoldered beneath tight basques flamed

wildly and the two organizations split up and glared hostilely.

The Sewing Circle was in favor of the removal of the weeds, the

Ladies of the Beautification were violently opposed.

Mrs. Meade expressed the views of the latter group when she said:

"Dig up the weeds off Yankee graves? For two cents, I'd dig up all

the Yankees and throw them in the city dump!"

At these ringing words the two associations arose and every lady

spoke her mind and no one listened. The meeting was being held in

Mrs. Merriwether's parlor and Grandpa Merriwether, who had been

banished to the kitchen, reported afterwards that the noise sounded

just like the opening guns of the battle of Franklin. And, he

added, be guessed it was a dinged sight safer to be present at the

battle of Franklin than at the ladies' meeting.

Somehow Melanie made her way to the center of the excited throng

and somehow made her usually soft voice heard above the tumult.

Her heart was in her throat with fright at daring to address the

indignant gathering and her voice shook but she kept crying:

"Ladies! Please!" till the din died down.

"I want to say--I mean, I've thought for a long time that--that not

only should we pull up the weeds but we should plant flowers on--

I--I don't care what you think but every time I go to take flowers

to dear Charlie's grave, I always put some on the grave of an

unknown Yankee which is near by. It--it looks so forlorn!"

The excitement broke out again in louder words and this time the

two organizations merged and spoke as one.

"On Yankee graves! Oh, Melly, how could you!" "And they killed

Charlie!" "They almost killed you!" "Why, the Yankees might have

killed Beau when he was born!" "They tried to burn you out of

Tara!"

Melanie held onto the back of her chair for support, almost

crumpling beneath the weight of a disapproval she had never known

before.

"Oh, ladies!" she cried, pleading. "Please, let me finish! I know

I haven't the right to speak on this matter, for none of my loved

ones were killed except Charlie, and I know where he lies, thank

God! But there are so many among us today who do not know where

their sons and husbands and brothers are buried and--"

She choked and there was a dead silence in the room.

Mrs. Meade's flaming eyes went somber. She had made the long trip

to Gettysburg after the battle to bring back Darcy's body but no

one had been able to tell her where he was buried. Somewhere in

some hastily dug trench in the enemy's country. And Mrs. Allan's

mouth quivered. Her husband and brother had been on that ill-

starred raid Morgan made into Ohio and the last information she had

of them was that they fell on the banks of the river, just as the

Yankee cavalry stormed up. She did not know where they lay. Mrs.

Allison's son had died in a Northern prison camp and she, the

poorest of the poor, was unable to bring his body home. There were

others who had read on casualty lists: "Missing--believed dead,"

and in those words had learned the last news they were ever to

learn of men they had seen march away.

They turned to Melanie with eyes that said: "Why do you open these

wounds again? These are the wounds that never heal--the wounds of

not knowing where they lie."

Melanie's voice gathered strength in the stillness of the room.

"Their graves are somewhere up in the Yankees' country, just like

the Yankee graves are here, and oh, how awful it would be to know

that some Yankee woman said to dig them up and--"

Mrs. Meade made a small, dreadful sound.

"But how nice it would be to know that some good Yankee woman--

And there must be SOME good Yankee women. I don't care what people

say, they can't all be bad! How nice it would be to know that they

pulled weeds off our men's graves and brought flowers to them, even