In now. From what I hear, he's the worst plow hand in the County!

Now you just compare him with my Alex! Before the war, Alex was

the most worthless dandy in the world and he never had a thought

beyond a new cravat and getting drunk and shooting somebody and

chasing girls who were no better than they should be. But look at

him now! He learned farming because he had to learn. He'd have

starved and so would all of us. Now he raises the best cotton in

the County--yes, Miss! It's a heap better than Tara cotton!--and

he knows what to do with hogs and chickens. Ha! He's a fine boy

for all his bad temper. He knows how to bide his time and change

with changing ways and when all this Reconstruction misery is over,

you're going to see my Alex as rich a man as his father and his

grandfather were. But Ashley--"

Scarlett was smarting at the slight to Ashley.

"It all sounds like tootle to me," she said coldly.

"Well, it shouldn't," said Grandma, fastening a sharp eye upon her.

"For it's just exactly the course you've been following since you

went to Atlanta. Oh, yes! We hear of your didoes, even if we are

buried down here in the country. You've changed with the changing

times too. We hear how you suck up to the Yankees and the white

trash and the new-rich Carpetbaggers to get money out of them.

Butter doesn't melt in your mouth from all I can hear. Well, go to

It, I say. And get every cent out of them you can, but when you've

got enough money, kick them in the face, because they can't serve

you any longer. Be sure you do that and do it properly, for trash

hanging onto your coat tails can ruin you."

Scarlett looked at her, her brow wrinkling with the effort to

digest the words. They still didn't make much sense and she was

still angry at Ashley being called a turtle on his back.

"I think you're wrong about Ashley," she said abruptly.

"Scarlett, you just aren't smart."

"That's your opinion," said Scarlett rudely, wishing it were

permissible to smack old ladies' jaws.

"Oh, you're smart enough about dollars and cents. That's a man's

way of being smart. But you aren't smart at all like a woman. You

aren't a speck smart about folks."

Scarlett's eyes began to snap fire and her hands to clench and

unclench.

"I've made you good and mad, haven't I?" asked the old lady,

smiling. "Well, I aimed to do just that."

"Oh, you did, did you? And why, pray?"

"I had good and plenty reasons."

Grandma sank back in her chair and Scarlett suddenly realized that

she looked very tired and incredibly old. The tiny clawlike hands

folded over the fan were yellow and waxy as a dead person's. The

anger went out of Scarlett's heart as a thought came to her. She

leaned over and took one of the hands in hers.

"You're a mighty sweet old liar," she said. "You didn't mean a

word of all this rigmarole. You've just been talking to keep my

mind off Pa, haven't you?"

"Don't fiddle with me!" said Old Miss grumpily, jerking away her

hand. "Partly for that reason, partly because what I've been

telling you is the truth and you're just too stupid to realize it."

But she smiled a little and took the sting from her words.

Scarlett's heart emptied itself of wrath about Ashley. It was nice

to know Grandma hadn't meant any of it.

"Thank you, just the same. It was nice of you to talk to me--and

I'm glad to know you're with me about Will and Suellen, even if--

even if a lot of other people do disapprove."

Mrs. Tarleton came down the hall, carrying two glasses of

buttermilk. She did all domestic things badly and the gasses were

slopping over.

"I had to go clear to the spring house to get it," she said.

"Drink it quick because the folks are coming up from the burying

ground. Scarlett, are you really going to let Suellen marry Will?

Not that he isn't a sight too good for her but you know he is a

Cracker and--"

Scarlett's eyes met those of Grandma. There was a wicked sparkle

in the old eyes that found an answer in her own.

CHAPTER XLI

When the last good-by had been said and the last sound of wheels

and hooves died away, Scarlett went into Ellen's office and removed

a gleaming object from where she had hidden it the night before

between the yellowed papers in the pigeon-holes of the secretary.

Hearing Pork sniffling in the dining room as he went about laying

the table for dinner she called to him. He came to her, his black

face as forlorn as a lost and masterless hound.

"Pork," she said sternly, "you cry just once more and I'll--I'll

cry, too. You've got to stop."

"Yas'm. Ah try but eve'y time Ah try Ah thinks of Mist' Gerald

an'--"

"Well, don't think. I can stand everybody else's tears but not

yours. There," she broke off gently, "don't you see? I can't

stand yours because I know how you loved him. Blow your nose,

Pork. I've got a present for you."

A little interest flickered in Pork's eyes as he blew his nose

loudly but it was more politeness than interest.

"You remember that night you got shot robbing somebody's hen

house?"

"Lawd Gawd, Miss Scarlett! Ah ain' never--"

"Well, you did, so don't lie to me about it at this late date. You

remember I said I was going to give you a watch for being so

faithful?"

"Yas'm, Ah 'members. Ah figgered you'd done fergot."

"No, I didn't forget and here it is."

She held out for him a massive gold watch, heavily embossed, from

which dangled a chain with many fobs and seals.

"Fo' Gawd, Miss Scarlett!" cried Pork. "Dat's Mist' Gerald's

watch! Ah done seen him look at dat watch a milyun times!"

"Yes, it's Pa's watch, Pork, and I'm giving it to you. Take it."

"Oh, no'm!" Pork retreated in horror. "Dat's a w'ite gempmum's

watch an' Mist' Gerald's ter boot. Huccome you talk 'bout givin'