In spite of her pleasure at the welcome, Scarlett felt a slight

uneasiness which she tried to conceal, an uneasiness about the

appearance of her velvet dress. It was still damp to the knees and

still spotted about the hem, despite the frantic efforts of Mammy

and Cookie with a steaming kettle, a clean hair brush and frantic

wavings in front of an open fire. Scarlett was afraid someone

would notice her bedraggled state and realize that this was her

only nice dress. She was a little cheered by the fact that many of

the dresses of the other guests looked far worse than hers. They

were so old and had such carefully mended and pressed looks. At

least, her dress was whole and new, damp though it was--in fact,

the only new dress at the gathering with the exception of Fanny's

white-satin wedding gown.

Remembering what Aunt Pitty had told her about the Elsing finances,

she wondered where the money for the satin dress had been obtained

and for the refreshments and decorations and musicians too. It

must have cost a pretty penny. Borrowed money probably or else the

whole Elsing clan had contributed to give Fanny this expensive

wedding. Such a wedding in these hard times seemed to Scarlett an

extravagance on a par with the tombstones of the Tarleton boys and

she felt the same irritation and lack of sympathy she had felt as

she stood in the Tarleton burying ground. The days when money

could be thrown away carelessly had passed. Why did these people

persist in making the gestures of the old days when the old days

were gone?

But she shrugged off her momentary annoyance. It wasn't her money

and she didn't want her evening's pleasure spoiled by irritation at

other people's foolishness.

She discovered she knew the groom quite well, for he was Tommy

Wellburn from Sparta and she had nursed him in 1863 when he had a

wound in his shoulder. He had been a handsome young six-footer

then and had given up his medical studies to go in the cavalry.

Now he looked like a little old man, so bent was he by the wound in

his hip. He walked with some difficulty and, as Aunt Pitty had

remarked, spraddled in a very vulgar way. But he seemed totally

unaware of his appearance, or unconcerned about it, and had the

manner of one who asks no odds from any man. He had given up all

hope of continuing his medical studies and was now a contractor,

working a labor crew of Irishmen who were building the new hotel.

Scarlett wondered how he managed so onerous a job in his condition

but asked no questions, realizing wryly that almost anything was

possible when necessity drove.

Tommy and Hugh Elsing and the little monkey-like Rene Picard stood

talking with her while the chairs and furniture were pushed back to

the wall in preparation for the dancing. Hugh had not changed

since Scarlett last saw him in 1862. He was still the thin

sensitive boy with the same lock of pale brown hair hanging over

his forehead and the same delicate useless-looking hands she

remembered so well. But Rene had changed since that furlough when

he married Maybelle Merriwether. He still had the Gallic twinkle