“No'm, he ain’ at de horsepittle.
Miss Merriwether an’ Miss Elsing ain’ dar needer.
A man he tole me de doctah down by de car shed wid the wounded sojers jes’ come in frum Jonesboro, but Miss Scarlett, Ah wuz sceered ter go down dar ter de shed—dey’s folkses dyin’ down dar. Ah’s sceered 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’ in de horsepittle lak dey all done gone crazy.
One doctah he say ter me, ’damn yo’ hide!
Doan you come roun’ hyah bodderin’ me ’bout babies w’en we got a mess of men dyin’ hyah.
Git some woman 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 and do anything she says.
And if you so much as breathe to her where the fighting is, I’ll sell you South as sure as gun’s iron.
And don’t you tell her that the other doctors wouldn’t come either.
Do you hear?”
“Yas’m.”
“Wipe your eyes and get a fresh pitcher of water and go on up.
Sponge her off. Tell her I’ve gone 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.
She looked in the mirror and automatically pushed up loose strands of hair but she did not see her own reflection.
Cold little ripples of fear that started in the pit of her stomach were radiating outward until 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 as she hurried down Peachtree Street her temples began to throb from the heat.
From far down the street she could hear the rise and fall and roar of many voices.
By the time she caught sight of the Leyden house, she was beginning to pant, for her stays were tightly laced, but she did not slow her gait.
The roar of noise grew louder.
From the Leyden house down to Five Points, the street seethed with activity, the activity of an anthill just destroyed.
Negroes were running up and down the street, panic in their faces; and on porches, white children sat crying untended.
The street was crowded with army wagons and ambulances filled with wounded and carriages piled high with valises and pieces of furniture.
Men on horseback dashed out of side streets pell-mell down Peachtree toward Hood’s headquarters.
In front of the Bonnell house, old Amos stood holding the head of the carriage horse and he greeted Scarlett 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, she paused to catch her breath and wait for her hammering heart to subside.
If she did not quiet herself she would certainly faint.