Inquiringly: "Yes, Mammy?" and Scarlett, coming back from dreams,

saw Mammy standing in the doorway, her hands under her apron and in

her eyes an alert piercing look. She wondered how long Mammy had

been standing there and how much she had heard and observed.

Probably everything, to judge by the gleam in her old eyes.

"Miss Scarlett look lak she tared. Ah spec she better go ter bed."

"I am tired," said Scarlett, rising and meeting Mammy's eyes with a

childlike, helpless look, "and I'm afraid I'm catching a cold too.

Aunt Pitty, would you mind if I stayed in bed tomorrow and didn't

go calling with you? I can go calling any time and I'm so anxious

to go to Fanny's wedding tomorrow night. And if my cold gets worse

I won't be able to go. And a day in bed would be such a lovely

treat for me."

Mammy's look changed to faint worry as she felt Scarlett's hands

and looked into her face. She certainly didn't look well. The

excitement of her thoughts had abruptly ebbed, leaving her white

and shaking.

"Yo' han's lak ice, honey. You come ter bed an' Ah'll brew you

some sassfrass tea an' git you a hot brick ter mek you sweat."

"How thoughtless I've been," cried the plump old lady, hopping from

her chair and patting Scarlett's arm. "Just chattering on and not

thinking of you. Honey, you shall stay in bed all tomorrow and

rest up and we can gossip together-- Oh, dear, no! I can't be

with you. I've promised to sit with Mrs. Bonnell tomorrow. She is

down with la grippe and so is her cook. Mammy, I'm so glad you are

here. You must go over with me in the morning and help me."

Mammy hurried Scarlett up the dark stairs, muttering fussy remarks

about cold hands and thin shoes and Scarlett looked meek and was

well content. If she could only lull Mammy's suspicions further

and get her out of the house in the morning, all would be well.

Then she could go to the Yankee jail and see Rhett. As she climbed

the stairs, the faint rumbling of thunder began and, standing on

the well-remembered landing, she thought how like the siege cannon

It sounded. She shivered. Forever, thunder would mean cannon and

war to her.

CHAPTER XXXIV

The sun shone intermittently the next morning and the hard wind

that drove dark clouds swiftly across its face rattled the

windowpanes and moaned faintly about the house. Scarlett said a

brief prayer of thanksgiving that the rain of the previous night

had ceased, for she had lain awake listening to it, knowing that it

would mean the ruin of her velvet dress and new bonnet. Now that

she could catch fleeting glimpses of the sun, her spirits soared.

She could hardly remain in bed and look languid and make croaking

noises until Aunt Pitty, Mammy and Uncle Peter were out of the

house and on their way to Mrs. Bonnell's. When, at last, the front

gate banged and she was alone in the house, except for Cookie who

was singing in the kitchen, she leaped from the bed and lifted her

new clothes from the closet hooks.

Sleep had refreshed her and given her strength and from the cold

hard core at the bottom of her heart, she drew courage. There was

something about the prospect of a struggle of wits with a man--with

any man--that put her on her mettle and, after months of battling

against countless discouragements, the knowledge that she was at

last facing a definite adversary, one whom she might unhorse by her

own efforts, gave her a buoyant sensation.

Dressing unaided was difficult but she finally accomplished it and

putting on the bonnet with its rakish feathers she ran to Aunt

Pitty's room to preen herself in front of the long mirror. How

pretty she looked! The cock feathers gave her a dashing air and

the dull-green velvet of the bonnet made her eyes startlingly

bright, almost emerald colored. And the dress was incomparable, so

rich and handsome looking and yet so dignified! It was wonderful

to have a lovely dress again. It was so nice to know that she

looked pretty and provocative, and she impulsively bent forward and

kissed her reflection in the mirror and then laughed at her own

foolishness. She picked up Ellen's Paisley shawl to wrap about her

but the colors of the faded old square clashed with the moss-green

dress and made her appear a little shabby. Opening Aunt Pitty's

closet she removed a black broadcloth cloak, a thin fall garment

which Pitty used only for Sunday wear, and put it on. She slipped