and chickens were waddling and strutting off toward the fields； for under the bushes in the soft plowed earth were found the choicest worms and slugs。
Scarlett’s heart swelled with affection and gratitude to Will who had done all of this。 Even her loyalty to Ashley could not make her believe he had been responsible for much of this well…being； for Tara’s bloom was not the work of a planter…aristocrat； but of the plodding； tireless “small farmer” who loved his land。 It was a “two…horse” farm； not the lordly plantation of other days with pastures full of mules and fine horses and cotton and corn stretching as far as eye could see。 But what there was of it was good and the acres that were lying fallow could be reclaimed when times grew better； and they would be the more fertile for their rest。
Will had done more than merely farm a few acres。 He had kept sternly at bay those two enemies of Georgia planters； the seedling pine and the blackberry brambles。 They had not stealthily taken garden and pasture and cotton field and lawn and reared themselves insolently by the porches of Tara； as they were doing on numberless plantations throughout the state。
Scarlett’s heart failed a beat when she thought how close Tara had come to going back to wilderness。 Between herself and Will； they had done a good job。 They had held off the Yankees； the Carpetbaggers and the encroachments of Nature。 And； best of all； Will had told her that after the cotton came in in the fall； she need send no more money—unless some other Carpetbagger coveted Tara and skyrocketed the taxes。 Scarlett knew Will would have a hard pull without her help but she admired and respected his independence。 As long as he was in the position of hired help he would take her money； but now that he was to become her brother…in…law and the man of the house； he intended to stand on his own efforts。 Yes； Will was something the Lord had provided。
Pork had dug the grave the night before； close by Ellen’s grave； and he stood； spade in hand； behind the moist red clay he was soon to shovel back in place。 Scarlett stood behind him in the patchy shade of a gnarled low…limbed cedar； the hot sun of the June morning dappling her； and tried to keep her eyes away from the red trench in front of her。 Jim Tarleton； little Hugh Munroe； Alex Fontaine and old man McRae’s youngest grandson came slowly and awkwardly down the path from the house bearing Gerald’s coffin on two lengths of split oak。 Behind them； at a respectful distance； followed a large straggling crowd of neighbors and friends； shabbily dressed； silent。 As they came down the sunny path through the garden； Pork bowed his head upon the top of the spade handle and cried； and Scarlett saw with incurious surprise that the kinks on his head； so jettily black when she went to Atlanta a few months before； were now grizzled。
She thanked God tiredly that she had cried all her tears the night before； so now she could stand erect and dry eyed。 The sound of Suellen’s tears； put back of her shoulder； irritated her unbearably and she had to clench her fists to keep from turning and slapping the swollen face。 Sue had been the cause of her father’s death； whether she intended it or not； and she should have the decency to control herself in front of the hostile neighbors。 Not a single person had spoken to her that morning or given her one look of sympathy。 They had kissed Scarlett quietly； shaken her hand； murmured kind words to Carreen and even to Pork but had looked through Suellen as if she were not there。
To them she had done worse than murder her father。 She had tried to betray him into disloyalty to the South。 And to that grim and close…knit community it was as if she had tried to betray the honor of them all。 She had broken the solid front the County presented to the world。 By her attempt to get money from the Yankee government she had aligned herself with Carpetbaggers and Scalawags； more hated enemies than the Yankee soldiers had ever been。 She； a member of an old and staunchly Confederate family； a planter’s family； had gone over to the enemy and by so doing had brought shame on every family in the County。
The mourners were seething with indignation and downcast with sorrow； especially three of them—old man McRae； who had been Gerald’s crony since he came to the up…country from Savannah so many years before； Grandma Fontaine who loved him because he was Ellen’s husband； and Mrs。 Tarleton who had been closer to him than to any of her neighbors because； as she often said； he was the only man in the County who knew a stallion from a gelding。
The sight of the stormy faces of these three in the dim parlor where Gerald lay before the funeral had caused Ashley and Will some uneasiness and they had retired to Ellen’s office for a consultation。
“Some of them are goin’ to say somethin’ about Suellen；” said Will abruptly； biting his straw in half。 They think they got just cause to say somethin’。 Maybe they have。 It ain’t for me to say。 But； Ashley； whether they’re right or not； we’ll have to resent it； bein’ the men of the family； and then there’ll be trouble。 Can’t nobody do nothin’ with old man McRae because he’s deaf as a post and can’t hear folks tryin’ to shut him up。 And you know there ain’t nobody in God’s world ever stopped Grandma Fontaine from speakin’ her mind。 And as for Mrs。 Tarleton—did you see her roll them russet eyes of hers every time she looked at Sue？ She’s got her ears laid back and can’t hardly wait。 If they say somethin’； we got to take it up and we got enough trouble at Tara now without bein’ at outs with our neighbors。”
Ashley sighed worriedly。 He knew the tempers of his neighbors better than Will did and he remembered that fully half of the quarrels and some of the shootings of the days before the war had risen from the County custom of saying a few words over the coffins of departed neighbors。 Generally the words were eulogistic in the extreme but occasionally they were not。 Sometimes； words meant in the utmost respect were misconstrued by overstrung relatives of the dead and scarcely were the last shovels of earth mounded above the coffin before trouble began。
In the absence of a priest Ashley was to conduct the services with the aid of Carreen’s Book of Devotions； the assistance of the Methodist and Baptist preachers of Jonesboro and Fayetteville having been tactfully refused。 Carreen； more devoutly Catholic than her sisters； had been very upset that Scarlett had neglected to bring a priest from Atlanta with her and had only been a little eased by the reminder that when the priest came down to marry Will and Suellen； he could read the services over Gerald。 It was she who objected to the neighboring Protestant preachers and gave the matter into Ashley’s hands； marking passages in her book for him to read。 Ashley； leaning against the old secretary； knew that the responsibility for preventing trouble lay with him and； knowing the hair…trigger tempers of the County； was at a loss as to how to proceed。
“There’s no help for it； Will；” he said； rumpling his bright hair。 “I can’t knock Grandma Fontaine down or old man McRae either； and I can’t hold my hand over Mrs。 Tarleton’s mouth。 And the mildest thing they’ll say is that Suellen is a murderess and a traitor and but for her Mr。 O’Hara would still be alive。 Damn this custom of speaking over the dead。 It’s barbarous。”
“Look； Ash；” said Will slowly。 “I ain’t aimin’ to have nobody say nothin’ against Suellen； no matter what they think。 You leave it to me。 When you’ve finished with the readin’ and the prayin’ and you say： ‘If anyone would like to say a few words；’ you look right at me； so I can speak first。”
But Scarlett； watching the pallbearers’ difficulty in getting the coffin through the narrow entrance into the burying ground； had no thought of trouble to come after the funeral。 She was thinking with a leaden heart that in burying Gerald she was burying one of the last links that joined her to the old days of happiness and irresponsibility。
Finally the pallbearers set the coffin down near the grave and stood clenching and unclenching their aching fingers。 Ashley； Melanie and Will filed into the enclosure and stood behind the O’Hara girls。 All the closer neighbors who could crowd in were behind them and the others stood outside the brick wall。 Scarlett； really seeing them for the first time； was surprised and touched by the size of the crowd。 With transportation so limited it was kind of so many to come。 There were fifty or sixty people there； some of them from so far away she wondered how they had heard in time to come。 There were whole families from Jonesboro and Fayetteville and Lovejoy and with them a few negro servants。 Many small farmers from far across the river were present and Crackers from the backwoods and a scattering of swamp folk。 The swamp men were lean bearded giants in homespun； coon…skin caps on their heads； their rifles easy in the crooks of their arms； their wads of tobacco stilled in their cheeks。 Their women were with them； their bare feet sunk in the soft red earth； their lower lips full of snuff。 Their faces beneath their sun…bonnets were sallow and malarial…looking but shining clean and their freshly ironed calicoes glistened with starch。
The near neighbors were there in full force。 Grandma Fontaine； withered； wrinkled and yellow as an old molted bird； was leaning on her cane； and behind her were Sally Munroe Fontaine and Young Miss Fontaine。 They were trying vainly by whispered pleas and jerks at her skirt to make the old lady sit down on the brick wall。 Grandma’s husband； the Old Doctor； was not there。 He had died two months before and much of the bright malicious joy of life had gone from her old eyes。 Cathleen Calvert Hilton stood alone as befitted one whose husband had helped bring about the present tragedy； her faded sunbonnet hiding her bowed face。 Scarlett saw with amazement that her percale dress had grease spots on it and her hands were freckled and unclean。 There were even black crescents under her fingernails。 There was nothing of quality folks about Cathleen now。 She looked Cracker； even worse。 She looked poor white； shiftless； slovenly； trifli