Is a girl of rare spirit. She knows what she wants and she

doesn't mind speaking her mind--or throwing vases."

"Oh," she said, rage breaking through. "Then I'll speak my mind

right this minute. If you'd had any raising at all you'd never

have come over here and talked to me. You'd have known I never

wanted to lay eyes on you again! But you aren't a gentleman! You

are just a nasty ill-bred creature! And you think that because

your rotten little boats can outrun the Yankees, you've the right

to come here and jeer at men who are brave and women who are

sacrificing everything for the Cause--"

"Stop, stop--" he begged with a grin. "You started off very

nicely and said what you thought, but don't begin talking to me

about the Cause. I'm tired of hearing about it and I'll bet you

are, too--"

"Why, how did--" she began, caught off her balance, and then

checked herself hastily, boiling with anger at herself for falling

Into his trap.

"I stood there in the doorway before you saw me and I watched

you," he said. "And I watched the other girls. And they all

looked as though their faces came out of one mold. Yours didn't.

You have an easy face to read. You didn't have your mind on your

business and I'll wager you weren't thinking about our Cause or

the hospital. It was all over your face that you wanted to dance

and have a good time and you couldn't. So you were mad clean

through. Tell the truth. Am I not right?"

"I have nothing more to say to you, Captain Butler," she said as

formally as she could, trying to draw the rags of her dignity

about her. "Just because you're conceited at being the 'great

blockader' doesn't give you the right to insult women."

"The great blockader! That's a joke. Pray give me only one

moment more of your precious time before you cast me into

darkness. I wouldn't want so charming a little patriot to be left

under a misapprehension about my contribution to the Confederate

Cause."

"I don't care to listen to your brags."

"Blockading is a business with me and I'm making money out of it.

When I stop making money out of it, I'll quit. What do you think

of that?"

"I think you're a mercenary rascal--just like the Yankees."

"Exactly," he grinned. "And the Yankees help me make my money.

Why, last month I sailed my boat right into New York harbor and

took on a cargo."

"What!" cried Scarlett, interested and excited in spite of

herself. "Didn't they shell you?"

"My poor innocent! Of course not. There are plenty of sturdy

Union patriots who are not averse to picking up money selling

goods to the Confederacy. I run my boat into New York, buy from

Yankee firms, sub rosa, of course, and away I go. And when that

gets a bit dangerous, I go to Nassau where these same Union

patriots have brought powder and shells and hoop skirts for me.

It's more convenient than going to England. Sometimes it's a bit

difficult running it into Charleston or Wilmington--but you'd be

surprised how far a little gold goes."

"Oh, I knew Yankees were vile but I didn't know--"

"Why quibble about the Yankees earning an honest penny selling out

the Union? It won't matter in a hundred years. The result will

be the same. They know the Confederacy will be licked eventually,

so why shouldn't they cash in on it?"

"Licked--us?"

"Of course."

"Will you please leave me--or will it be necessary for me to call

my carriage and go home to get rid of you?"

"A red-hot little Rebel," he said, with another sudden grin. He

bowed and sauntered off, leaving her with her bosom heaving with

impotent rage and indignation. There was disappointment burning

in her that she could not quite analyze, the disappointment of a

child seeing illusions crumble. How dared he take the glamor from

the blockaders! And how dared he say the Confederacy would be

licked! He should be shot for that--shot like a traitor. She

looked about the hall at the familiar faces, so assured of

success, so brave, so devoted, and somehow a cold little chill set

in at her heart. Licked? These people--why, of course not! The

very idea was impossible, disloyal.

"What were you two whispering about?" asked Melanie, turning to

Scarlett as her customers drifted off. "I couldn't help seeing

that Mrs. Merriwether had her eye on you all the time and, dear,

you know how she talks."

"Oh, the man's impossible--an ill-bred boor," said Scarlett. "And

as for old lady Merriwether, let her talk. I'm sick of acting

like a ninny, just for her benefit."

"Why, Scarlett!" cried Melanie, scandalized.

"Sh-sh," said Scarlett. "Dr. Meade is going to make another

announcement."

The gathering quieted again as the doctor raised his voice, at

first in thanks to the ladies who had so willingly given their

jewelry.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, I am going to propose a surprise--

an innovation that may shock some of you, but I ask you to

remember that all this is done for the hospital and for the

benefit of our boys lying there."

Everyone edged forward, in anticipation, trying to imagine what

the sedate doctor could propose that would be shocking.

"The dancing is about to begin and the first number will, of

course, be a reel, followed by a waltz. The dances following, the

polkas, the schottisches, the mazurkas, will be preceded by short

reels. I know the gentle rivalry to lead the reels very well and

so--" The doctor mopped his brow and cast a quizzical glance at

the corner, where his wife sat among the chaperons. "Gentlemen,