There seemed no way to regain the ground which had been lost when the child was away from home and later when Scarlett had been ill and at Tara.
As Bonnie grew older Scarlett tried to discipline her, tried to keep her from becoming too headstrong and spoiled, but with little success.
Rhett always sided with the child, no matter how foolish her desires or how outrageous her behavior.
He encouraged her to talk and treated her as an adult, listening to her opinions with apparent seriousness and pretending to be guided by them.
As a result, Bonnie interrupted her elders whenever she pleased and contradicted her father and put him in his place.
He only laughed and would not permit Scarlett even to slap the little girl's hand by way of reprimand.
"If she wasn't such a sweet, darling thing, she'd be impossible," thought Scarlett ruefully, realizing that she had a child with a will equal to her own.
"She adores Rhett and he could make her behave better if he wanted to."
But Rhett showed no inclination to make Bonnie behave.
Whatever she did was right and if she wanted the moon she could have it, if he could reach it for her.
His pride in her beauty, her curls, her dimples, her graceful little gestures was boundless.
He loved her pertness, her high spirits and the quaint sweet manner she had of showing her love for him.
For all her spoiled and willful ways she was such a lovable child that he lacked the heart to try to curb her.
He was her god, the center of her small world, and that was too precious for him to risk losing by reprimands.
She clung to him like a shadow.
She woke him earlier than he cared to wake, sat beside him at the table, eating alternately from his plate and her own, rode in front of him on his horse and permitted no one but Rhett to undress her and put her to sleep in the small bed beside his.
It amused and touched Scarlett to see the iron hand with which her small child ruled her father.
Who would have thought that Rhett, of all people, would take fatherhood so seriously?
But sometimes a dart of jealousy went through Scarlett because Bonnie, at the age of four, understood Rhett better than she had ever understood him and could manage him better than she had ever managed him.
When Bonnie was four years old, Mammy began to grumble about the impropriety of a girl child riding "a-straddle in front of her pa wid her dress flyin' up."
Rhett lent an attentive ear to this remark, as he did to all Mammy's remarks about the proper raising of little girls.
The result was a small brown and white Shetland pony with a long silky mane and tail and a tiny sidesaddle with silver trimmings.
Ostensibly the pony was for all three children and Rhett bought a saddle for Wade too.
But Wade infinitely preferred his St. Bernard dog and Ella was afraid of all animals.
So the pony became Bonnie's own and was named "Mr. Butler."
The only flaw in Bonnie's possessive joy was that she could not still ride astride like her father, but after he had explained how much more difficult it was to ride on the sidesaddle, she was content and learned rapidly.
Rhett's pride in her good seat and her good hands was enormous.
"Wait till she's old enough to hunt," he boasted.
"There'll be no one like her on any field.
I'll take her to Virginia then.
That's where the real hunting is.
And Kentucky where they appreciate good riders."
When it came to making her riding habit, as usual she had her choice of colors and as usual chose blue.
"But, my darling!
Not that blue velvet!
The blue velvet is for a party dress for me," laughed Scarlett.
"A nice black broadcloth is what little girls wear."
Seeing the small black brows coming together: "For Heaven's sake, Rhett, tell her how unsuitable it would be and how dirty it will get."
"Oh, let her have the blue velvet.
If it gets dirty, we'll make her another one," said Rhett easily.
So Bonnie had her blue velvet habit with a skirt that trailed down the pony's side and a black hat with a red plume in it, because Aunt Melly's stories of Jeb Stuart's plume had appealed to her imagination.
On days that were bright and clear the two could be seen riding down Peachtree Street, Rhett reining in his big black horse to keep pace with the fat pony's gait.
Sometimes they went tearing down the quiet roads about the town, scattering chickens and dogs and children, Bonnie beating Mr. Butler with her crop, her tangled curls flying, Rhett holding in his horse with a firm hand that she might think Mr. Butler was winning the race.
When he had assured himself of her seat, her hands, her utter fearlessness, Rhett decided that the time had come for her to learn to make the low jumps that were within the reach of Mr. Butler's short legs.
To this end, he built a hurdle in the back yard and paid Wash, one of Uncle Peter's small nephews, twenty-five cents a day to teach Mr. Butler to jump.
He began with a bar two inches from the ground and gradually worked up the height to a foot.
This arrangement met with the disapproval of the three parties concerned, Wash, Mr. Butler and Bonnie.
Wash was afraid of horses and only the princely sum offered induced him to take the stubborn pony over the bar dozens of times a day; Mr. Butler, who bore with equanimity having his tail pulled by his small mistress and his hooves examined constantly, felt that the Creator of ponies had not intended him to put his fat body over the bar; Bonnie, who could not bear to see anyone else upon her pony, danced with impatience while Mr. Butler was learning his lessons.
When Rhett finally decided that the pony knew his business well enough to trust Bonnie upon him, the child's excitement was boundless.
She made her first jump with flying colors and, thereafter, riding abroad with her father held no charms for her.