Yankee officers were so handsome and finely dressed and so carefree。 And they gave such splendid balls and drove such fine horses and simply worshiped Southern girls！ They treated them like queens and were so careful not to injure their touchy pride and； after all—why not associate with them？
They were so much more attractive than the town swains who dressed so shabbily and were so serious and worked so hard that they had little time to play。 So there had been a number of elopements with Yankee officers which broke the hearts of Atlanta families。 There were brothers who passed sisters on the streets and did not speak and mothers and fathers who never mentioned daughters’ names。 Remembering these tragedies； a cold dread ran in the veins of those whose motto was “No surrender”—a dread which the very sight of Melanie’s soft but unyielding face dispelled。 She was； as the dowagers said； such an excellent and wholesome example to the young girls of the town。 And； because she made no parade of her virtues the young girls did not resent her。
It never occurred to Melanie that she was becoming the leader of a new society。 She only thought the people were nice to come to see her and to want her in their little sewing circles； cotillion clubs and musical societies。 Atlanta had always been musical and loved good music； despite the sneering comments of sister cities of the South concerning the town’s lack of culture； and there was now an enthusiastic resurrection of interest that grew stronger as the times grew harder and more tense。 It was easier to forget the impudent black faces in the streets and the blue uniforms of the garrison while they were listening to music。
Melanie was a little embarrassed to find herself at the head of the newly formed Saturday Night Musical Circle。 She could not account for her elevation to this position except by the fact that she could accompany anyone on the piano； even the Misses McLure who were tone deaf but who would sing duets。
The truth of the matter was that Melanie had diplomatically managed to amalgamate the Lady Harpists； the Gentlemen’s Glee Club and the Young Ladies Mandolin and Guitar Society with the Saturday Night Musical Circle； so that now Atlanta had music worth listening to。 In fact； the Circle’s rendition of The Bohemian Girl was said by many to be far superior to professional performances heard in New York and New Orleans。 It was after she had maneuvered the Lady Harpists into the fold that Mrs。 Merriwether said to Mrs。 Meade and Mrs。 Whiting that they must have Melanie at the head of the Circle。 If she could get on with the Harpists； she could get on with anyone； Mrs。 Merriwether declared。 That lady herself played the organ for the choir at the Methodist Church and； as an organist； had scant respect for harps or harpists。
Melanie had also been made secretary for both the Association for the Beautification of the Graves of Our Glorious Dead and the Sewing Circle for the Widows and Orphans of the Confederacy。 This new honor came to her after an exciting joint meeting of those societies which threatened to end in violence and the severance of lifelong ties of friendship。 The question had arisen at the meeting as to whether or not weeds should be removed from the graves of the Union soldiers near those of Confederate soldiers。 The appearance of the scraggly Yankee mounds defeated all the efforts of the ladies to beautify those of their own dead。 Immediately the fires which smoldered beneath tight basques flamed wildly and the two organizations split up and glared hostilely。 The Sewing Circle was in favor of the removal of the weeds； the Ladies of the Beautification were violently opposed。
Mrs。 Meade expressed the views of the latter group when she said： “Dig up the weeds off Yankee graves？ For two cents； I’d dig up all the Yankees and throw them in the city dump！”
At these ringing words the two associations arose and every lady spoke her mind and no one listened。 The meeting was being held in Mrs。 Merriwether’s parlor and Grandpa Merriwether； who had been banished to the kitchen； reported afterwards that the noise sounded just like the opening guns of the battle of Franklin。 And； he added； he guessed it was a dinged sight safer to be present at the battle of Franklin than at the ladies’ meeting。
Somehow Melanie made her way to the center of the excited throng and somehow made her usually soft voice heard above the tumult。 Her heart was in her throat with fright at daring to address the indignant gathering and her voice shook but she kept crying： “Ladies！ Please！” till the din died down。
“I want to say—I mean； I’ve thought for a long time that—that not only should we pull up the weeds but we should plant flowers on— I—I don’t care what you think but every time I go to take flowers to dear Charlie’s grave； I always put some on the grave of an unknown Yankee which is near by。 It—it looks so forlorn！”
The excitement broke out again in louder words and this time the two organizations merged and spoke as one。
“On Yankee graves！ Oh； Melly； how could you！ “And they killed Charlie！” “They almost killed you！” “Why； the Yankees might have killed Beau when he was born！” “They tried to burn you out of Tara！”
Melanie held onto the back of her chair for support； almost crumpling beneath the weight of a disapproval she had never known before。
“Oh； ladies！” she cried； pleading。 “Please； let me finish！ I know I haven’t the right to speak on this matter； for none of my loved ones were killed except Charlie； and I know where he lies； thank God！ But there are so many among us today who do not know where their sons and husbands and brothers are buried and—”
She choked and there was a dead silence in the room。
Mrs。 Meade’s flaming eyes went somber。 She had made the long trip to Gettysburg after the battle to bring back Darcy’s body but no one had been able to tell her where he was buried。 Somewhere in some hastily dug trench in the enemy’s country。 And Mrs。 Allan’s mouth quivered。 Her husband and brother had been on that ill…starred raid Morgan made into Ohio and the last information she had of them was that they fell on the banks of the river； just as the Yankee cavalry stormed up。 She did not know where they lay。 Mrs。 Allison’s son had died in a Northern prison camp and she； the poorest of the poor； was unable to bring his body home。 There were others who had read on casualty lists： “Missing—believed dead；” and in those words had learned the last news they were ever to learn of men they had seen march away。
They turned to Melanie with eyes that said： “Why do you open these wounds again？ These are the wounds that never heal—the wounds of not knowing where they lie。”
Melanie’s voice gathered strength in the stillness of the room。
“Their graves are somewhere up in the Yankees’ country； just like the Yankee graves are here； and oh； how awful it would be to know that some Yankee woman said to dig them up and—”
Mrs。 Meade made a small； dreadful sound。
“But how nice it would be to know that some good Yankee woman— And there must be some good Yankee women。 I don’t care what people say； they can’t all be bad！ How nice it would be to know that they pulled weeds off our men’s graves and brought flowers to them； even if they were enemies。 If Charlie were dead in the North it would comfort me to know that someone— And I don’t care what you ladies think of me；” her voice broke again； “I will withdraw from both clubs and I’ll—I’ll pull up every weed off every Yankee’s grave I can find and I’ll plant flowers； too—and—I just dare anyone to stop me！”
With this final defiance Melanie burst into tears and tried to make her stumbling way to the door。
Grandpa Merriwether； safe in the masculine confines of the Girl of the Period Saloon an hour later； reported to Uncle Henry Hamilton that after these words； everybody cried and embraced Melanie and it all ended up in a love feast and Melanie was made secretary of both organizations。
“And they are going to pull up the weeds。 The hell of it is Dolly said I’d be only too pleased to help do it； ‘cause I didn’t have anything much else to do。 I got nothing against the Yankees and I think Miss Melly was right and the rest of those lady wild cats wrong。 But the idea of me pulling weeds at my time of life and with my lumbago！”
Melanie was on the board of lady managers of the Orphans’ Home and assisted in the collection of books for the newly formed Young Men’s Library Association。 Even the Thespians who gave amateur plays once a month clamored for her。 She was too timid to appear behind the kerosene…lamp footlights； but she could make costumes out of croker sacks if they were the only material available。 It was she who cast the deciding vote at the Shakespeare Reading Circle that the bard’s works should be varied with those of Mr。 Dickens and Mr。 Bulwer…Lytton and not the poems of Lord Byron； as had been suggested by a young and； Melanie privately feared； very fast bachelor member of the Circle。
In the nights of the late summer her small； feebly lighted house was always full of guests。 There were never enough chairs to go around and frequently ladies sat on the steps of the front porch with men grouped about them on the banisters； on packing boxes or on the lawn below。 Sometimes when Scarlett saw guests sitting on the grass； sipping tea； the only refreshment the Wilkeses could afford； she wondered how Melanie could bring herself to expose her poverty so shamelessly。 Until Scarlett was able to furnish Aunt Pitty’s house as it had been before the war and serve her guests good wine and juleps and baked ham and cold haunches of venison； she had no intention of having guests in her house—especially prominent guests； such as Melanie had。
General John B。 Gordon； Georgia’s great hero； was frequently there with his family。 Father Ryan； the poet…priest of the Confederacy； never failed to call when passing through Atlanta。 He charmed gatherings there with his wit and seldom needed much urging to recite his “Sword of Lee” or his deathless “Conquered Banner；” which never failed to make the ladies cry。 Alex Stephens； late Vice…President of the Confederacy； vi