OVER THE WAFFLES next morning, Pittypat was lachrymose, Melanie was silent and Scarlettdefiant.

　　“I don’t care if they do talk. I’ll bet I made more money for the hospital than any girl there—more than all the messy old stuff we sold, too.”

　　“Oh, dear, what does the money matter?” wailed Pittypat, wringing her hands. “I just couldn’tbelieve my eyes, and poor Charlie hardly dead a year. ... And that awful Captain Butler, makingyou so conspicuous, and he’s a terrible, terrible person, Scarlett. Mrs. Whiting’s cousin, Mrs.

　　Coleman, whose husband came from Charleston, told me about him. He’s the black sheep of alovely family—oh, how could any of the Butlers ever turn out anything like him? He isn’t receivedin Charleston and he has the fastest reputation and there was something about a girl—something sobad Mrs. Coleman didn’t even know what it was—”

　　“Oh, I can’t believe he’s that bad,” said Melly gently. “He seemed a perfect gentleman and whenyou think how brave he’s been, running the blockade—”

　　“He isn’t brave,” said Scarlett perversely, pouring half a pitcher of syrup over her waffles. “Hejust does it for money. He told me so. He doesn’t care anything about the Confederacy and he sayswe’re going to get licked. But he dances divinely.”

　　Her audience was speechless with horror.

　　“I’m tired of sitting at home and I’m not going to do it any longer. If they all talked about meabout last night, then my reputation is already gone and it won’t matter what else they say.”

　　It did not occur to her that the idea was Rhett Butler’s. It came so patly and fitted so well withwhat she was thinking.

　　“Oh! What will your mother say when she hears? What will she think of me?”

　　A cold qualm of guilt assailed Scarlett at the thought of Ellen’s consternation, should she everlearn of her daughter’s scandalous conduct. But she took heart at the thought of the twenty-fivemiles between Atlanta and Tara. Miss Pitty certainly wouldn’t tell Ellen. It would put her in such abad light as a chaperon. And if Pitty didn’t tattle, she was safe.

　　“I think—” said Pitty, “yes, I think I’d better write Henry a letter about it—much as I hate it—but he’s our only male relative, and make him go speak reprovingly to Captain Butler— Oh, dear,if Charlie were only alive— You must never, never speak to that man again, Scarlett.”

　　Melanie had been sitting quietly, her hands in her lap, her waffles cooling on her plate. She aroseand, coming behind Scarlett, put her arms about her neck.

　　“Darling,” she said, “don’t you get upset. I understand and it was a brave thing you did last nightand it’s going to help the hospital a lot. And if anybody dares say one little word about you, I’lltend to them. ... Aunt Pitty, don’t cry. It has been hard on Scarlett, not going anywhere. She’s just ababy.” Her fingers played in Scarlett’s black hair. “And maybe we’d all be better off if we went outoccasionally to parties. Maybe we’ve been very selfish, staying here with our grief. War timesaren’t like other times. When I think of all the soldiers in town who are far from home and haven’t any friends to call on at night—and the ones in the hospital who are well enough to be out of bedand not well enough to go back in the army— Why, we have been selfish. We ought to have threeconvalescents in our house this minute, like everybody else, and some of the soldiers out to dinnerevery Sunday. There, Scarlett, don’t you fret. People won’t talk when they understand. We knowyou loved Charlie.”

　　Scarlett was far from fretting and Melanie’s soft hands in her hair were irritating. She wanted tojerk her head away and say “Oh, fiddle-dee-dee!” for the warming memory was still on her of howthe Home Guard and the militia and the soldiers from the hospital had fought for her dances lastnight. Of all the people in the world, she didn’t want Melly for a defender. She could defendherself, thank you, and if the old cats wanted to squall—well, she could get along without the oldcats. There were too many nice officers in the world for her to bother about what old women said.

　　Pittypat was dabbing at her eyes under Melanie’s soothing words when Prissy entered with abulky letter.

　　“Fer you, Miss Melly. A lil nigger boy brung it.”

　　“For me?” said Melly, wondering, as she ripped open the envelope.

　　Scarlett was making headway with her waffles and so noticed nothing until she heard a burst oftears from Melly and, looking up, saw Aunt Pittypat’s hand go to her heart.

　　“Ashley’s dead!” screamed Pittypat, throwing her head back and letting her arms go limp.

　　“Oh, my God! cried Scarlett, her blood turning to ice water.

　　“No! No!” cried Melanie. “Quick! Her smelling salts, Scarlett! There, there, honey, do you feelbetter? Breathe deep. No, it’s not Ashley. I’m so sorry I scared you. I was crying because I’m sohappy,” and suddenly she opened her clenched palm and pressed some object that was in it to herlips. “I’m so happy,” and burst into tears again.

　　Scarlett caught a fleeting glimpse and saw that it was a broad gold ring.

　　“Read it,” said Melly, pointing to the letter on the floor. “Oh, how sweet, how kind, he is!”

　　Scarlett, bewildered, picked up the single sheet and saw written in a black, bold hand: “TheConfederacy may need the lifeblood of its men but not yet does it demand the heart’s blood of itswomen. Accept, dear Madam, this token of my reverence for your courage and do not think thatyour sacrifice has been in vain, for this ring has been redeemed at ten times its value. CaptainRhett Butler.”

　　Melanie slipped the ring on her finger and looked at it lovingly.

　　“I told you he was a gentleman, didn’t I?” she said turning to Pittypat her smile bright throughthe teardrops on her face. “No one but a gentleman of refinement and thoughtfulness would everhave thought how it broke my heart to— I’ll send my gold chain instead. Aunt Pittypat, you mustwrite him a note and invite him to Sunday dinner so I can thank him.”

　　In the excitement, neither of the others seemed to have thought that Captain Butler had notreturned Scarlett’s ring, too. But she thought of it, annoyed. And she knew it had not been CaptainButler’s refinement that had prompted so gallant a gesture. It was that he intended to be asked into Pittypat’s house and knew unerringly how to get the invitation.

　　“I was greatly disturbed to hear of your recent conduct,” ran Ellen’s letter and Scarlett, who wasreading it at the table, scowled. Bad news certainly traveled swiftly. She had often heard inCharleston and Savannah that Atlanta people gossiped more and meddled in other people’sbusiness more than any other people in the South, and now she believed it. The bazaar had takenplace Monday night and today was only Thursday. Which of the old cats had taken it upon herselfto write Ellen? For a moment she suspected Pittypat but immediately abandoned that thought. PoorPittypat had been quaking in her number-three shoes for fear of being blamed for Scarlett’sforward 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 passover the impropriety of your appearing publicly while in mourning, realizing your warm desire tobe of assistance to the hospital. But to dance, and with such a man as Captain Butler! I have heardmuch of him (as who has not?) and Pauline wrote me only last week that he is a man of bad reputeand not even received by his own family in Charleston, except of course by his heartbrokenmother. He is a thoroughly bad character who would take advantage of your youth and innocenceto make you conspicuous and publicly disgrace you and your family. How could Miss Pittypathave so neglected her duty to you?”

　　Scarlett looked across the table at her aunt The old lady had recognized Ellen’s handwriting andher fat little mouth was pursed in a frightened way, like a baby who fears a scolding and hopes toward it off by tears.

　　“I am heartbroken to think that you could so soon forget your rearing. I have thought of callingyou home immediately but will leave that to your father’s discretion. He will be in Atlanta Fridayto speak with Captain Butler and to escort you home. I fear he will be severe with you despite mypleadings. I hope and pray it was only youth and thoughtlessness that prompted such forwardconduct. No one can wish to serve our Cause more than I, and I wish my daughters to feel thesame way, but to disgrace—”

　　There was more in the same vein but Scarlett did not finish it. For once, she was thoroughlyfrightened. She did not feel reckless and defiant now. She felt as young and guilty as when she wasten and had thrown a buttered biscuit at Suellen at the table. To think of her gentle motherreproving her so harshly and her father coming to town to talk to Captain Butler. The realseriousness of the matter grew on her. Gerald was going to be severe. This was one time when sheknew 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,” answeredScarlett dolorously.

　　“Prissy, find my salts,” fluttered Pittypat, pushing back her chair from her half-eaten meal. “I—Ifeel 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 notdirected 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 liedown 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-eatingMr. 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, likeMother 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 sonervous with just Melly in the house at night, with so many strange men in town. You’re so brave Idon’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 Scarlettsourly, wishing there were some other person than Melanie to help ward off Gerald’s wrath. It wassickening 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 havebrought this on me?”

　　Pittypat was ill and in her bed when Gerald arrived the next afternoon. She sent many messagesof regret to him from behind her closed door and left the two frightened girls to preside over thesupper table. Gerald was ominously silent although he kissed Scarlett and pinched Melanie’s cheekapprovingly and called her “Cousin Melly.” Scarlett would have infinitely preferred bellowingoaths and accusations. True to her promise, Melanie clung to Scarlett’s skirts like a small rustlingshadow and Gerald was too much of a gentleman to upbraid his daughter in front of her. Scarletthad 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 suchpoor correspondents, and I know you know everything that goes on down there. Do tell us aboutJoe Fontaine’s wedding.”

　　Gerald warmed to the flattery and said that the wedding had been a quiet affair, “not like yougirls 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 beforerecalling that perhaps such remarks were not fit for female ears. Scarlett’s spirits soared at hislaugh and she blessed Melanie’s tact.

　　“Back Joe went to Virginia the next day,” Gerald added hastily. “There was no visiting aboutand 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’sshoulder. 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. “Iforget what they did, but Brent is a lieutenant now.”

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