“There, there, Mrs. Meade,” said the doctor fondly.
“Don’t go bragging on me in front of folks.
It’s little enough I can do, since you wouldn’t let me go in the army.”
“'Wouldn’t let!'” she cried indignantly. “Me?
The town wouldn’t let you and you know it.
Why, Scarlett, when folks heard he was intending to go to Virginia as an army surgeon, all the ladies signed a petition begging him to stay here.
Of course, the town couldn’t do without you.”
“There, there, Mrs. Meade,” said the doctor, basking obviously in the praise.
“Perhaps with one boy at the front, that’s enough for the time being.”
“And I’m going next year!” cried little Phil hopping about excitedly.
“As a drummer boy.
I’m learning how to drum now.
Do you want to hear me?
I’ll run get my drum.”
“No, not now,” said Mrs. Meade, drawing him closer to her, a sudden look of strain coming over her face.
“Not next year, darling.
Maybe the year after.”
“But the war will be over then!” he cried petulantly, pulling away from her. “And you promised!”
Over his head the eyes of the parents met and Scarlett saw the look.
Darcy Meade was in Virginia and they were clinging closer to the little boy that was left.
Uncle Peter cleared his throat.
“Miss Pitty were in a state when Ah lef’ home an’ ef Ah doan git dar soon, she’ll done swooned.”
“Good-by.
I’ll be over this afternoon,” called Mrs. Meade.
“And you tell Pitty for me that if you aren’t on my committee, she’s going to be in a worse state.”
The carriage slipped and slid down the muddy road and Scarlett leaned back on the cushions and smiled.
She felt better now than she had felt in months.
Atlanta, with its crowds and its hurry and its undercurrent of driving excitement, was very pleasant, very exhilarating, so very much nicer than the lonely plantation out from Charleston, where the bellow of alligators broke the night stillness; better than Charleston itself, dreaming in its gardens behind its high walls; better than Savannah with its wide streets lined with palmetto and the muddy river beside it.
Yes, and temporarily even better than Tara, dear though Tara was.
There was something exciting about this town with its narrow muddy streets, lying among rolling red hills, something raw and crude that appealed to the rawness and crudeness underlying the fine veneer that Ellen and Mammy had given her.
She suddenly felt that this was where she belonged, not in serene and quiet old cities, flat beside yellow waters.
The houses were farther and farther apart now, and leaning out Scarlett saw the red brick and slate roof of Miss Pittypat’s house.
It was almost the last house on the north side of town.
Beyond it, Peachtree road narrowed and twisted under great trees out of sight into thick quiet woods.
The neat wooden-paneled fence had been newly painted white and the front yard it inclosed was yellow starred with the last jonquils of the season.
On the front steps stood two women in black and behind them a large yellow woman with her hands under her apron and her white teeth showing in a wide smile.
Plump Miss Pittypat was teetering excitedly on tiny feet, one hand pressed to her copious bosom to still her fluttering heart.
Scarlett saw Melanie standing by her and, with a surge of dislike, she realized that the fly in the ointment of Atlanta would be this slight little person in black mourning dress, her riotous dark curls subdued to matronly smoothness and a loving smile of welcome and happiness on her heart-shaped face.
When a Southerner took the trouble to pack a trunk and travel twenty miles for a visit, the visit was seldom of shorter duration than a month, usually much longer.
Southerners were as enthusiastic visitors as they were hosts, and there was nothing unusual in relatives coming to spend the Christmas holidays and remaining until July.
Often when newly married couples went on the usual round of honeymoon visits, they lingered in some pleasant home until the birth of their second child.
Frequently elderly aunts and uncles came to Sunday dinner and remained until they were buried years later.
Visitors presented no problem, for houses were large, servants numerous and the feeding of several extra mouths a minor matter in that land of plenty.
All ages and sexes went visiting, honeymooners, young mothers showing off new babies, convalescents, the bereaved, girls whose parents were anxious to remove them from the dangers of unwise matches, girls who had reached the danger age without becoming engaged and who, it was hoped, would make suitable matches under the guidance of relatives in other places.
Visitors added excitement and variety to the slow-moving Southern life and they were always welcome.
So Scarlett had come to Atlanta with no idea as to how long she would remain.
If her visit proved as dull as those in Savannah and Charleston, she would return home in a month.
If her stay was pleasant, she would remain indefinitely.
But no sooner had she arrived than Aunt Pitty and Melanie began a campaign to induce her to make her home permanently with them.
They brought up every possible argument.