It was such outspoken rudeness as this that threw Scarlett into

silent furies and made her long to be rid of him. But how could

she do without him? In what other way could she obtain such

freedom? He was rude and dirty and, occasionally, very odorous but

he served his purpose. He drove her to and from the mills and on

her round of customers, spitting and staring off into space while

she talked and gave orders. If she climbed down from the buggy, he

climbed after her and dogged her footsteps. When she was among

rough laborers, negroes or Yankee soldiers, he was seldom more than

a pace from her elbow.

Soon Atlanta became accustomed to seeing Scarlett and her bodyguard

and, from being accustomed, the ladies grew to envy her her freedom

of movement. Since the Ku Klux lynching, the ladies had been

practically immured, not even going to town to shop unless there

were half a dozen in their group. Naturally social minded, they

became restless and, putting their pride in their pockets, they

began to beg the loan of Archie from Scarlett. And whenever she

did not need him, she was gracious enough to spare him for the use

of other ladies.

Soon Archie became an Atlanta institution and the ladies competed

for his free time. There was seldom a morning when a child or a

negro servant did not arrive at breakfast time with a note saying:

"If you aren't using Archie this afternoon, do let me have him. I

want to drive to the cemetery with flowers." "I must go to the

milliners." "I should like Archie to drive Aunt Nelly for an

airing." "I must go calling on Peters Street and Grandpa is not

feeling well enough to take me. Could Archie--"

He drove them all, maids, matrons and widows, and toward all he

evidenced the same uncompromising contempt. It was obvious that he

did not like women, Melanie excepted, any better than he liked

negroes and Yankees. Shocked at first by his rudeness, the ladies

finally became accustomed to him and, as he was so silent, except

for intermittent explosions of tobacco juice, they took him as much

for granted as the horses he drove and forgot his very existence.

In fact, Mrs. Merriwether related to Mrs. Meade the complete

details of her niece's confinement before she even remembered

Archie's presence on the front seat of the carriage.

At no other time than this could such a situation have been

possible. Before the war, he would not have been permitted even in

the ladies' kitchens. They would have handed him food through the

back door and sent him about his business. But now they welcomed

his reassuring presence. Rude, illiterate, dirty, he was a bulwark

between the ladies and the terrors of Reconstruction. He was

neither friend nor servant. He was a hired bodyguard, protecting

the women while their men worked by day or were absent from home at

night.

It seemed to Scarlett that after Archie came to work for her Frank

was away at night very frequently. He said the books at the store

had to be balanced and business was brisk enough now to give him

little time to attend to this in working hours. And there were

sick friends with whom he had to sit. Then there was the

organization of Democrats who forgathered every Wednesday night to

devise ways of regaining the ballot and Frank never missed a

meeting. Scarlett thought this organization did little else except

argue the merits of General John B. Gordon over every other

general, except General Lee, and refight the war. Certainly she

could observe no progress in the direction of the recovery of the

ballot. But Frank evidently enjoyed the meetings for he stayed out

until all hours on those nights.

Ashley also sat up with the sick and he, too, attended the

Democratic meetings and he was usually away on the same nights as

Frank. On these nights, Archie escorted Pitty, Scarlett, Wade and

little Ella though the back yard to Melanie's house and the two

families spent the evenings together. The ladies sewed while

Archie lay full length on the parlor sofa snoring, his gray

whiskers fluttering at each rumble. No one had invited him to

dispose himself on the sofa and as it was the finest piece of

furniture in the house, the ladies secretly moaned every time he

lay down on it, planting his boot on the pretty upholstery. But

none of them had the courage to remonstrate with him. Especially

after he remarked that it was lucky he went to sleep easy, for

otherwise the sound of women clattering like a flock of guinea hens

would certainly drive him crazy.

Scarlett sometimes wondered where Archie had come from and what his

life had been before he came to live in Melly's cellar but she

asked no questions. There was that about his grim one-eyed face

which discouraged curiosity. All she knew was that his voice

bespoke the mountains to the north and that he had been in the army

and had lost both leg and eye shortly before the surrender. It was

words spoken in a fit of anger against Hugh Elsing which brought

out the truth of Archie's past.

One morning, the old man had driven her to Hugh's mill and she had

found it idle, the negroes gone and Hugh sitting despondently under

a tree. His crew had not made their appearance that morning and he

was at a loss as to what to do. Scarlett was in a furious temper

and did not scruple to expend it on Hugh, for she had just received

an order for a large amount of lumber--a rush order at that. She

had used energy and charm and bargaining to get that order and now

the mill was quiet.

"Drive me out to the other mill," she directed Archie. "Yes, I

know it'll take a long time and we won't get any dinner but what am