ey were afraid it did not show on their faces。 Probably； thought Scarlett； because Sally and Young Miss were too afraid of the porcelain…frail but indomitable old Grandma to dare voice any qualms。 Scarlett herself was afraid of the old lady； for she had sharp eyes and a sharper tongue and Scarlett had felt them both in the past。
Though unrelated by blood and far apart in age； there was a kinship of spirit and experience binding these women together。 All three wore home…dyed mourning； all were worn； sad； worried； all bitter with a bitterness that did not sulk or complain but； nevertheless； peered out from behind their smiles and their words of welcome。 For their slaves were gone； their money was worthless； Sally’s husband； Joe； had died at Gettysburg and Young Miss was also a widow； for young Dr。 Fontaine had died of dysentery at Vicksburg。 The other two boys； Alex and Tony； were somewhere in Virginia and nobody knew whether they were alive or dead； and old Dr。 Fontaine was off somewhere with Wheeler’s cavalry。
“And the old fool is seventy…three years old though he tries to act younger and he’s as full of rheumatism as a hog is of fleas；” said Grandma； proud of her husband； the light in her eyes belying her sharp words。
“Have you all had any news of what’s been happening in Atlanta？” asked Scarlett when they were comfortably settled。 “We’re completely buried at Tara。”
“Law； child；” said Old Miss； taking charge of the conversation； as was her habit； “we’re in the same fix as you are。 We don’t know a thing except that Sherman finally got the town。”
“So he did get it。 What’s he doing now？ Where’s the fighting now？”
“And how would three lone women out here in the country know about the war when we haven’t seen a letter or a newspaper in weeks？” said the old lady tartly。 “One of our darkies talked to a darky who’d seen a darky who’d been to Jonesboro； and except for that we haven’t heard anything。 What they said was that the Yankees were just squatting in Atlanta resting up their men and their horses； but whether it’s true or not you’re as good a judge as I am。 Not that they wouldn’t need a rest； after the fight we gave them。”
To think you’ve been at Tara all this time and we didn’t know！” Young Miss broke in。 “Oh； how I blame myself for not riding over to see！ But there’s been so much to do here with most all the darkies gone that I just couldn’t get away。 But I should have made time to go。 It wasn’t neighborly of me。 But； of course； we thought the Yankees had burned Tara like they did Twelve Oaks and the Macintosh house and that your folks had gone to Macon。 And we never dreamed you were home； Scarlett。”
“Well； how were we to know different when Mr。 O’Hara’s darkies came through here so scared they were popeyed and told us the Yankees were going to burn Tara？” Grandma interrupted。
“And we could see—” Sally began。
“I’m telling this； please；” said Old Miss shortly。 “And they said the Yankees were camped all over Tara and your folks were fixing to go to Macon。 And then that night we saw the glare of fire over toward Tara and it lasted for hours and it scared our fool darkies so bad they all ran off。 What burned？”
“All our cotton—a hundred and fifty thousand dollars worth；” said Scarlett bitterly。
“Be thankful it wasn’t your house；” said Grandma； leaning her chin on her cane。 “You can always grow more cotton and you can’t grow a house。 By the bye； had you all started picking your cotton？”
“No；” said Scarlett； “and now most of it is ruined。 I don’t imagine there’s more than three bales left standing； in the far field in the creek bottom； and what earthly good will it do？ All our field hands are gone and there’s nobody to pick it。”
“Mercy me； all our field hands are gone and there’s nobody to pick it！” mimicked Grandma and bent a satiric glance on Scarlett “What’s wrong with your own pretty paws； Miss； and those of your sisters？”
“Me？ Pick cotton？” cried Scarlett aghast； as if Grandma had been suggesting some repulsive crime。 “Like a field hand？ Like white trash？ Like the Slattery women？”
“White trash； indeed！ Well； isn’t this generation soft and ladylike！ Let me tell you； Miss； when I was a girl my father lost all his money and I wasn’t above doing honest work with my hands and in the fields too； till Pa got enough money to buy some more darkies。 I’ve hoed my row and I’ve picked my cotton and I can do it again if I have to。 And it looks like I’ll have to。 White trash； indeed！”
“Oh； but Mama Fontaine；” cried her daughter…in…law； casting imploring glances at the two girls； urging them to help her smooth the old lady’s feathers。 “That was so long ago； a different day entirely； and times have changed。”
“Times never change when there’s a need for honest work to be done；” stated the sharp…eyed old lady； refusing to be soothed。 “And I’m ashamed for your mother； Scarlett； to hear you stand there and talk as though honest work made white trash out of nice people。 ‘When Adam delved and Eve span’—”
To change the subject； Scarlett hastily questioned： “What about the Tarletons and the Calverts？ Were they burned out？ Have they refugeed to Macon？”
“The Yankees never got to the Tarletons。 They’re off the main road； like we are； but they did get to the Calverts and they stole all their stock and poultry and got all the darkies to run off with them—” Sally began。
Grandma interrupted。
“Hah！ They promised all the black wenches silk dresses and gold earbobs—that’s what they did。 And Cathleen Calvert said some of the troopers went off with the black fools behind them on their saddles。 Well； all they’ll get will be yellow babies and I can’t say that Yankee blood will improve the stock。”
“Oh； Mama Fontaine！”
“Don’t pull such a shocked face； Jane。 We’re all married； aren’t we？ And； God knows； we’ve seen mulatto babies before this。”
“Why didn’t they burn the Calverts’ house？”
“The house was saved by the combined accents of the second Mrs。 Calvert and that Yankee overseer of hers； Hilton；” said Old Miss； who always referred to the ex…governess as the “second Mrs。 Calvert；” although the first Mrs。 Calvert had been dead twenty years。
“ ‘We are staunch Union sympathizers；’ ” mimicked the old lady； twanging the words through her long thin nose。 “Cathleen said the two of them swore up hill and down dale that the whole passel of Calverts were Yankees。 And Mr。 Calvert dead in the Wilderness！ And Raiford at Gettysburg and Cade in Virginia with the army！ Cathleen was so mortified she said she’d rather the house had been burned。 She said Cade would bust when he came home and heard about it。 But then； that’s what a man gets for marrying a Yankee woman—no pride； no decency； always thinking about their own skins。 … How come they didn’t burn Tara； Scarlett？”
For a moment Scarlett paused before answering。 She knew the very next question would be： “And how are all your folks？ And how is your dear mother？” She knew she could not tell them Ellen was dead。 She knew that if she spoke those words or even let herself think of them in the presence of these sympathetic women； she would burst into a storm of tears and cry until she was sick。 And she could not let herself cry。 She had not really cried since she came home and she knew that if she once let down the floodgates； her closely husbanded courage would all be gone。 But she knew； too； looking with confusion at the friendly faces about her； that if she withheld the news of Ellen’s death； the Fontaines would never forgive her。 Grandma in particular was devoted to Ellen and there were very few people in the County for whom the old lady gave a snap of her skinny fingers。
“Well； speak up；” said Grandma； looking sharply at her。 “Don’t you know； Miss？”
“Well； you see； I didn’t get home till the day after the battle；” she answered hastily。 The Yankees were all gone then。 Pa— Pa told me that—that he got them not to burn the house because Suellen and Carreen were so ill with typhoid they couldn’t be moved。”
“That’s the first time I ever heard of a Yankee doing a decent thing；” said Grandma； as if she regretted hearing anything good about the invaders。 “And how are the girls now？”
“Oh； they are better； much better； almost well but quite weak；” answered Scarlett。 Then； seeing the question she feared hovering on the old lady’s lips； she cast hastily about for some other topic of conversation。
“I—I wonder if you could lend us something to eat？ The Yankees cleaned us out like a swarm of locusts。 But； if you are on short rations； just tell me so plainly and—”
“Send over Pork with a wagon and you shall have half of what we’ve got； rice； meal； ham； some chickens；” said Old Miss； giving Scarlett a sudden keen look。
“Oh； that’s too much！ Really； I—”
“Not a word！ I won’t hear it。 What are neighbors for？”
“You are so kind that I can’t— But I have to be going now。 The folks at home will be worrying about me。”
Grandma rose abruptly and took Scarlett by the arm。
“You two stay here；” she commanded； pushing Scarlett toward the back porch。 “I have a private word for this child。 Help me down the steps； Scarlett。”
Young Miss and Sally said good…by and promised to come calling soon。 They were devoured by curiosity as to what Grandma had to say to Scarlett but unless she chose to tell them； they would never know。 Old ladies were so difficult； Young Miss whispered to Sally as they went back to their sewing。
Scarlett stood with her hand on the horse’s bridle； a dull feeling at her heart。
“Now；” said Grandma； peering into her face； “what’s wrong at Tara？ What are you keeping back？”
Scarlett looked up into the keen old eyes and knew she could tell the truth； without tears。 No one could cry in the presence of Grandma Fontaine without her express permission。
“Mother is dead；” she said flatly。
The hand on her arm tightened until it pinched and the wrinkled lids over the yellow eyes blinked。
“Did the Yankees kill her？”
“She died of typhoid。 Died—the day before I came home。”
“Don’t think about it；” said Grandma sternly and Scarlett saw her swallow。 �