In the South, and now she believed it. The bazaar had taken place

Monday night and today was only Thursday. Which of the old cats

had taken it upon herself to write Ellen? For a moment she

suspected Pittypat but immediately abandoned that thought. Poor

Pittypat had been quaking in her number-three shoes for fear of

being blamed for Scarlett's forward conduct and would be the last

to notify Ellen of her own inadequate chaperonage. Probably it

was Mrs. Merriwether.

"It is difficult for me to believe that you could so forget

yourself and your rearing. I will pass over the impropriety of

your appearing publicly while in mourning, realizing your warm

desire to be of assistance to the hospital. But to dance, and

with such a man as Captain Butler! I have heard much of him (as

who has not?) and Pauline wrote me only last week that he is a man

of bad repute and not even received by his own family in

Charleston, except of course by his heartbroken mother. He is a

thoroughly bad character who would take advantage of your youth

and innocence to make you conspicuous and publicly disgrace you

and your family. How could Miss Pittypat have so neglected her

duty to you?"

Scarlett looked across the table at her aunt. The old lady had

recognized Ellen's handwriting and her fat little mouth was pursed

In a frightened way, like a baby who fears a scolding and hopes to

ward it off by tears.

"I am heartbroken to think that you could so soon forget your

rearing. I have thought of calling you home immediately but will

leave that to your father's discretion. He will be in Atlanta

Friday to speak with Captain Butler and to escort you home. I

fear he will be severe with you despite my pleadings. I hope and

pray it was only youth and thoughtlessness that prompted such

forward conduct. No one can wish to serve our Cause more than I,

and I wish my daughters to feel the same way, but to disgrace--"

There was more in the same vein but Scarlett did not finish it.

For once, she was thoroughly frightened. She did not feel

reckless and defiant now. She felt as young and guilty as when

she was ten and had thrown a buttered biscuit at Suellen at the

table. To think of her gentle mother reproving her so harshly and

her father coming to town to talk to Captain Butler. The real

seriousness of the matter grew on her. Gerald was going to be

severe. This was one time when she knew she couldn't wiggle out

of her punishment by sitting on his knee and being sweet and pert.

"Not--not bad news?" quavered Pittypat.

"Pa is coming tomorrow and he's going to land on me like a duck on

a June bug," answered Scarlett dolorously.

"Prissy, find my salts," fluttered Pittypat, pushing back her

chair from her half-eaten meal. "I--I feel faint."

"Dey's in yo' skirt pocket," said Prissy, who had been hovering

behind Scarlett, enjoying the sensational drama. Mist' Gerald in

a temper was always exciting, providing his temper was not

directed at her kinky head. Pitty fumbled at her skirt and held

the vial to her nose.

"You all must stand by me and not leave me alone with him for one

minute," cried Scarlett. "He's so fond of you both, and if you

are with me he can't fuss at me."

"I couldn't," said Pittypat weakly, rising to her feet. "I--I

feel ill. I must go lie down. I shall lie down all day tomorrow.

You must give him my excuses."

"Coward!" thought Scarlett, glowering at her.

Melly rallied to the defense, though white and frightened at the

prospect of facing the fire-eating Mr. O'Hara. "I'll--I'll help

you explain how you did it for the hospital. Surely he'll

understand."

"No, he won't," said Scarlett. "And oh, I shall die if I have to

go back to Tara in disgrace, like Mother threatens!"

"Oh, you can't go home," cried Pittypat, bursting into tears. "If

you did I should be forced--yes, forced to ask Henry to come live

with us, and you know I just couldn't live with Henry. I'm so

nervous with just Melly in the house at night, with so many

strange men in town. You're so brave I don't mind being here

without a man!"

"Oh, he couldn't take you to Tara!" said Melly, looking as if she

too would cry in a moment. "This is your home now. What would we

ever do without you?"

"You'd be glad to do without me if you knew what I really think of

you," thought Scarlett sourly, wishing there were some other

person than Melanie to help ward off Gerald's wrath. It was

sickening to be defended by someone you disliked so much.

"Perhaps we should recall our invitation to Captain Butler--"

began Pittypat.

"Oh, we couldn't! It would be the height of rudeness!" cried

Melly, distressed.

"Help me to bed. I'm going to be ill," moaned Pittypat. "Oh,

Scarlett, how could you have brought this on me?"

Pittypat was ill and in her bed when Gerald arrived the next

afternoon. She sent many messages of regret to him from behind

her closed door and left the two frightened girls to preside over

the supper table. Gerald was ominously silent although he kissed

Scarlett and pinched Melanie's cheek approvingly and called her

"Cousin Melly." Scarlett would have infinitely preferred

bellowing oaths and accusations. True to her promise, Melanie

clung to Scarlett's skirts like a small rustling shadow and Gerald

was too much of a gentleman to upbraid his daughter in front of

her. Scarlett had to admit that Melanie carried off things very

well, acting as if she knew nothing was amiss, and she actually

succeeded in engaging Gerald in conversation, once the supper had

been served.

"I want to know all about the County," she said, beaming upon him.

"India and Honey are such poor correspondents, and I know you know

everything that goes on down there. Do tell us about Joe

Fontaine's wedding."

Gerald warmed to the flattery and said that the wedding had been a

quiet affair, "not like you girls had," for Joe had only a few

days' furlough. Sally, the little Munroe chit, looked very

pretty. No, he couldn't recall what she wore but he did hear that

she didn't have a "second-day" dress.

"She didn't!" exclaimed the girls, scandalized.

"Sure, because she didn't have a second day," Gerald explained and

bawled with laughter before recalling that perhaps such remarks

were not fit for female ears. Scarlett's spirits soared at his

laugh and she blessed Melanie's tact.

"Back Joe went to Virginia the next day," Gerald added hastily.

"There was no visiting about and dancing afterwards. The Tarleton

twins are home."

"We heard that. Have they recovered?"

"They weren't badly wounded. Stuart had it in the knee and a

minie ball went through Brent's shoulder. You had it, too, that

they were mentioned in dispatches for bravery?"

"No! Tell us!"

"Hare brained--both of them. I'm believing there's Irish in

them," said Gerald complacently. "I forget what they did, but

Brent is a lieutenant now."

Scarlett felt pleased at hearing of their exploits, pleased in a

proprietary manner. Once a man had been her beau, she never lost

the conviction that he belonged to her, and all his good deeds

redounded to her credit.

"And I've news that'll be holding the both of you," said Gerald.

"They're saying Stu is courting at Twelve Oaks again."

"Honey or India?" questioned Melly excitedly, while Scarlett

stared almost indignantly.

"Oh, Miss India, to be sure. Didn't she have him fast till this

baggage of mine winked at him?"

"Oh," said Melly, somewhat embarrassed at Gerald's outspokenness.

"And more than that, young Brent has taken to hanging about Tara.

Now!"

Scarlett could not speak. The defection of her beaux was almost

insulting. Especially when she recalled how wildly both the twins

had acted when she told them she was going to marry Charles.

Stuart had even threatened to shoot Charles, or Scarlett, or

himself, or all three. It had been most exciting.

"Suellen?" questioned Melly, breaking into a pleased smile. "But

I thought Mr. Kennedy--"

"Oh, him?" said Gerald. "Frank Kennedy still pussyfoots about,

afraid of his shadow, and I'll be asking him his intentions soon

if he doesn't speak up. No, 'tis me baby."

"Carreen?"

"She's nothing but a child!" said Scarlett sharply, finding her

tongue.

"She's little more than a year younger than you were, Miss, when

you were married," retorted Gerald. "Is it you're grudging your

old beau to your sister?"

Melly blushed, unaccustomed to such frankness, and signaled Peter

to bring in the sweet potato pie. Frantically she cast about in

her mind for some other topic of conversation which would not be

so personal but which would divert Mr. O'Hara from the purpose of

his trip. She could think of nothing but, once started, Gerald

needed no stimulus other than an audience. He talked on about the

thievery of the commissary department which every month increased