AFTER SENDING UP Melanie’s breakfast tray, Scarlett dispatched Prissy for Mrs. Meade andsat down with Wade to eat her own breakfast. But for once she had no appetite. Between hernervous apprehension over the thought that Melanie’s time was approaching and her unconsciousstraining to hear the sound of the cannon, she could hardly eat. Her heart acted very queerly,beating regularly for several minutes and then thumping so loudly and swiftly it almost made hersick at her stomach. The heavy hominy stuck in her throat like glue and never before had themixture of parched corn and ground-up yams that passed for coffee been so repulsive. Withoutsugar or cream it was bitter as gall, for the sorghum used for “long sweetening” did little toimprove the taste. After one swallow she pushed her cup away. If for no other reason she hated theYankees because they kept her from having real coffee with sugar and thick cream in it.

　　Wade was quieter than usual and did not set up his every morning complaint against the hominythat he so disliked. He ate silently the spoonfuls she pushed into his mouth and washed them downwith noisily gulped water. His soft brown eyes followed her every movement, large, round asdollars, childish bewilderment in them though her own scarce-hidden fears had been communic(a) atedto him.When he hadfinished sh(as) e sent him off to the back yard to play and watchedhim toddle across the straggling grass to his playhouse with great relief.

　　She arose and stood irresolutely at the foot of the stairs. She should go up and sit with Melanieand distract her mind from her coming ordeal but she did not feel equal to it. Of all days in theworld, Melanie had to pick this day to have the baby! And of all days to talk about dying!

　　She sat down on the bottom step of the stairs and tried to compose herself, wondering again howyesterday’s battle had gone, wondering how today’s fighting was going. How strange to have a bigbattle going on just a few miles away and to know nothing of it! How strange the quiet of thisdeserted end of town in contrast with the day of the fighting at Peachtree Creek! Aunt Pitty’s housewas one of the last on the north side of Atlanta and with the fighting somewhere to the far south,there were no reinforcements going by at double-quick, no ambulances and staggering lines ofwalking wounded coming back. She wondered if such scenes were being enacted on the south sideof town and thanked God she was not there. If only everyone except the Meades and the Merriwethers had not refugeed from this north end of Peachtree! It made her feel forsaken andalone. She wished fervently that Uncle Peter were with her so he could go down to headquartersand learn the news. If it wasn’t for Melanie she’d go to town this very minute and learn for herself,but she couldn’t leave until Mrs. Meade arrived. Mrs. Meade. Why didn’t she come on? And wherewas Prissy?

　　She rose and went out onto the front porch and looked for them impatiently, but the Meadehouse was around a shady bend in the street and she could see no one. After a long while Prissycame into view, alone, switching her skirts from side to side and looking over her shoulder toobserve the effect.

　　“You’re as slow as molasses in January,” snapped Scarlett as Prissy opened the gate. “What didMrs. Meade say? How soon will she be over here?”

　　“She warn’t dar,” said Prissy.

　　“Where is she? When will she be home?”

　　“Wel’m,” answered Prissy, dragging out her words pleasurably to give more weight to hermessage. “Dey Cookie say Miss Meade done got wud early dis mawnin’ dat young Mist’ Phil donebeen shot an’ Miss Meade she tuck de cah’ige an’ Ole Talbot an’ Betsy an’ dey done gone ter fotchhim home. Cookie say he bad hurt an’ Miss Meade ain’ gwine ter be studyin’ ‘bout comin’ uphyah.”

　　Scarlett stared at her and had an impulse to shake her. Negroes were always so proud of beingthe bearers of evil tidings.

　　“Well, don’t stand there like a ninny. Go down to Mrs. Merriwether’s and ask her to come up orsend her mammy. Now, hurry.”

　　“Dey ain’ dar, Miss Scarlett. Ah drapped in ter pass time of de day wid Mammy on mah wayhome. Dey’s done gone. House all locked up. Spec dey’s at de horsepittle.”

　　“So that’s where you were so long! Whenever I send you somewhere you go where I tell youand don’t stop to “pass any time’ with anybody. Go—”

　　She stopped and racked her brain. Who was left in town among their friends who would behelpful? There was Mrs. Elsing. Of course, Mrs. Elsing didn’t like her at all these days but she hadalways been fond of Melanie.

　　“Go to Mrs. Elsing’s, and explain everything very carefully and ten her to please come up here.

　　And, Prissy, listen to me. Miss Melly’s baby is due and she may need you any minute now. Nowyou hurry right straight back.”

　　“Yas’m,” said Prissy and, turning, sauntered down the walk at snail’s gait.

　　“Hurry, you slow poke!”

　　“Yas’m.”

　　Prissy quickened her gait infinitesimally and Scarlett went back into the house. She hesitatedagain before going upstairs to Melanie. She would have to explain to her just why Mrs. Meadecouldn’t come and the knowledge that Phil Meade was badly wounded might upset her. Well, she’d tell a lie about it.

　　She entered Melanie’s room and saw that the breakfast tray was untouched. Melanie lay on herside, her face white.

　　“Mrs. Meade’s over at the hospital,” said Scarlett “But Mrs. Rising is coming. Do you feelbad?”

　　“Not very,” lied Melanie. “Scarlett, how long did it take Wade to get born?”

　　“Less than no time,” answered Scarlett with a cheerfulness she was far from feeling. “I was outin the yard and I didn’t hardly have time to get into the house. Mammy said it was scandalous—just like one of the darkies.”

　　“I hope I’ll be like one of the darkies too,” said Melanie, mustering a smile which suddenlydisappeared as pain contorted her face.

　　Scarlett looked down at Melanie’s tiny hips with none too sanguine hopes but said reassuringly:

　　“Oh, it’s not really so bad.”

　　“Oh, I know it isn’t. I’m afraid I’m a little coward. Is—is Mrs. Elsing coming right away?”

　　“Yes, right away,” said Scarlett. “I’ll go down and get some fresh water and sponge you off. It’sso hot today.”

　　She took as long a time as possible in getting the water, running to the front door every twominutes to see if Prissy were coming. There was no sign of Prissy so she went back upstairs,sponged Melanie’s perspiring body and combed out her long dark hair.

　　When an hour had passed she heard scuffing negro feet coming down the street, and looking outof the window, saw Prissy returning slowly, switching herself as before and tossing her head withas many airy affectations as if she had a large and interested audience.

　　“Some day, I’m going to take a strap to that little wench,” thought Scarlett savagely, hurryingdown the stairs to meet her.

　　“Miss Elsing ober at de horsepittle. Dey Cookie ‘lows a whole lot of wounded sojers come in onde early train. Cookie fixin’ soup ter tek over dar. She say—”

　　“Never mind what she said,” interrupted Scarlett, her heart sinking. “Put on a clean apronbecause I want you to go over to the hospital. I’m going to give you a note to Dr. Meade, and if heisn’t there, give it to Dr. Jones or any of the other doctors. And if you don’t hurry back this time,I’ll skin you alive.”

　　“Yas’m.”

　　“And ask any of the gentlemen for news of the fighting. If they don’t know, go by the depot andask the engineers who brought the wounded in. Ask if they are fighting at Jonesboro or near there.”

　　“Gawdlmighty, Miss Scarlett!” and sudden fright was in Prissy’s black face. “De Yankees ain’ atTara, is dey?”

　　“I don’t know. I’m telling you to ask for news.”

　　“Gawdlmighty, Miss Scarlett! Whut’ll dey do ter Maw?”

　　Prissy began to bawl suddenly, loudly, the sound adding to Scarlett’s own uneasiness.

　　“Stop bawling! Miss Melanie will hear you. Now go change your apron, quick.”

　　Spurred to speed, Prissy hurried toward the back of the house while Scarlett scratched a hastynote on the margin of Gerald’s last letter to her—the only bit of paper in the house. As she foldedit, so that her note was uppermost, she caught Gerald’s words, “Your mother—typhoid—under nocondition—to come home—” She almost sobbed. If it wasn’t for Melanie, she’d start home, rightthis minute, if she had to walk every step of the way.

　　Prissy went off at a trot, the letter gripped in her hand, and Scarlett went back upstairs, trying tothink of some plausible lie to explain Mrs. Elsing’s failure to appear. But Melanie asked noquestions. She lay upon her back, her face tranquil and sweet, and the sight of her quieted Scarlettfor a while.

　　She sat down and tried to talk of inconsequential things, but the thoughts of Tara and a possibledefeat by the Yankees, prodded cruelly. She thought of Ellen dying and of the Yankees coming intoAtlanta, burning everything, killing everybody. Through it all, the dull far-off thundering persisted,rolling into her ears in waves of fear. Finally, she could not talk at all and only stared out of thewindow at the hot still street and the dusty leaves hanging motionless on the trees. Melanie wassilent too, but at intervals her quiet face was wrenched with pain.

　　She said, after each pain: “It wasn’t very bad, really,” and Scarlett knew she was lying. Shewould have preferred a loud scream to silent endurance. She knew she should feel sorry forMelanie, but somehow she could not muster a spark of sympathy. Her mind was too torn with herown anguish. Once she looked sharply at the pain-twisted face and wondered why it should be thatshe, of all people in the world, should be here with Melanie at this particular time—she who hadnothing in common with her, who hated her, who would gladly have seen her dead. Well, maybeshe’d have her wish, and before the day was over too. A cold superstitious fear swept her at thisthought. It was bad luck to wish that someone were dead, almost as bad luck as to curse someone.

　　Curses came home to roost, Mammy said. She hastily prayed that Melanie wouldn’t die and brokeinto feverish small talk, hardly aware of what she said. At last, Melanie put a hot hand on her wrist.

　　“Don’t bother about talking, dear. I know how worried you are. I’m so sorry I’m so muchtrouble.”

　　Scarlett relapsed into silence but she could not sit still. What would she do if neither the doctornor Prissy got there in time? She walked to the window and looked down the street and came backand sat down again. Then she rose and looked out of the window on the other side of the room.

　　An hour went by and then another. Noon came and the sun was high and hot and not a breath ofair stirred the dusty leaves. Melanie’s pains were harder now. Her long hair was drenched in sweatand her gown stuck in wet spots to her body. Scarlett sponged her face in silence but fear wasgnawing at her. God in Heaven, suppose the baby came before the doctor arrived! What would shedo? She knew less than nothing of midwifery. This was exactly the emergency she had beendreading for weeks. She had been counting on Prissy to handle the situation if no doctor should beavailable. Prissy knew all about midwifery. She’d said so time and again. But where was Prissy?

　　Why didn’t she come? Why didn’t the doctor come? She went to the window and looked again.

　　She listened hard and suddenly she wondered if it were only her imagination or if the sound ofcannon in the distance had died away. If it were farther away it would mean that the fighting wasnearer Jonesboro and that would mean—At last she saw Prissy coming down the street at a quick trot and she leaned out of the window.

　　Prissy, looking up, saw her and her mouth opened to yell. Seeing the panic written on the littleblack face and fearing she might alarm Melanie by crying out evil tidings, Scarlett hastily put herfinger to her lips and left the window.

　　“I’ll get some cooler water,” she said, looking down into Melanie’s dark, deep-circled eyes andtrying to smile. Then she hastily left the room, closing the door carefully behind her.

　　Prissy was sitting on the bottom step in the hall, panting.

　　“Dey’s fightin’ at Jonesboro, Miss Scarlett! Dey say our gempmums is gittin’ beat. Oh, Gawd,Miss Scarlett! Whut’ll happen ter Maw an’ Poke? Oh, Gawd, Miss Scarlett! Whut’ll happen ter useffen de Yankees gits hyah? Oh, Gawd—”

　　Scarlett clapped a hand over the blubbery mouth.

　　“For God’s sake, hush!”

　　Yes, what would happen to them if the Yankees came—what would happen to Tara? She pushedthe thought firmly back into her mind and grappled with the more pressing emergency. If shethought of these things, she’d begin to scream and bawl like Prissy.

　　“Where’s Dr. Meade? When’s he coming?”

　　“Ah ain’ nebber seed him, Miss Scarlett.”

　　“What!”

　　“No’m, he ain’ at de horsepittle. Miss Merriwether an’ Miss Elsing ain’ dar needer. A man hetole me de doctah down by de car shed wid the wounded sojers jes’ come in frum Jonesboro, butMiss Scarlett, Ah wuz sceered ter go down dar ter de shed—dey’s folkses dyin’ down dar. Ah’ssceered of daid folkses—”

　　“What about the other doctors?”

　　“Miss Scarlett, fo’ Gawd, Ah couldn’ sceercely git one of dem ter read yo’ note. Dey wukin’ inde horsepittle lak dey all done gone crazy. One doctah he say ter me, ‘Damn yo’ hide! Doan youcome roun’ hyah bodderin’ me ‘bout babies w’en we got a mess of men dyin’ hyah. Git somewoman ter he’p you.’ An’ den Ah went aroun’ an’ about an’ ask fer news lak you done tole me an’

　　dey all say ‘fightin’ at Jonesboro’ an’ Ah—”

　　“You say Dr. Meade’s at the depot?”

　　“Yas’m. He—”

　　“Now, listen sharp to me. I’m going to get Dr. Meade and I want you to sit by Miss Melanie anddo anything she says. And if you so much as breathe to her where the fighting is, I’ll sell you Southas sure as gun’s iron. And don’t you tell her that the other doctors wouldn’t come either. Do youhear?”

　　“Yas’m.”

　　“Wipe your eyes and get a fresh pitcher of water and go on up. Sponge her off. Tell her I’vegone for Dr. Meade.”

　　“Is her time nigh, Miss Scarlett?”

　　“I don’t know. I’m afraid it is but I don’t know. You should know. Go on up.”

　　Scarlett caught up her wide straw bonnet from the console table and jammed it on her head. Shelooked in the mirror and automatically pushed up loose strands of hair but she did not see her ownreflection. Cold little ripples of fear that started in the pit of her stomach were radiating outwarduntil the fingers that touched her cheeks were cold, though the rest of her body streamed perspiration.

　　She hurried out of the house and into the heat of the sun. It was blindingly, glaring hot and asshe hurried down Peachtree Street her temples began to throb from the heat. From far down thestreet she could hear the rise and fall and roar of many voices. By the time she caught sight of theLeyden house, she was beginning to pant, for her stays were tightly laced, but she did not slow hergait. The roar of noise grew louder.

　　From the Leyden house down to Five Points, the street seethed with activity, the activity of ananthill just destroyed. Negroes were running up and down the street, panic in their faces; and onporches, white children sat crying untended. The street was crowded with army wagons andambulances filled with wounded and carriages piled high with valises and pieces of furniture. Menon horseback dashed out of side streets pell-mell down Peachtree toward Hood’s headquarters. Infront of the Bonnell house, old Amos stood holding the head of the carriage horse and he greetedScarlett with rolling eyes.

　　“Ain’t you gone yit, Miss Scarlett? We is goin’ now. Ole Miss packin’ her bag.”

　　“Going? Where?”

　　“Gawd knows, Miss. Somewheres. De Yankees is comin’!”

　　She hurried on, not even saying good-by. The Yankees were coming! At Wesley Chapel, shepaused to catch her breath and wait for her hammering heart to subside. If she did not quiet herselfshe would certainly faint As she stood clutching a lamp post for support, she saw an officer onhorseback come charging up the street from Five Points and, on an impulse, she ran out into thestreet and waved at him.

　　“Oh, stop! Please, stop!”

　　He reined in so suddenly the horse went back on its haunches, pawing the air. There were harshlines of fatigue and urgency in his face but his tattered gray hat was off with a sweep.

　　“Madam?”

　　“Tell me, is it true? Are the Yankees coming?”

　............