But Scarlett hardly heard a word he said； so enraptured was she at being in the same room with Ashley again。 How could she have thought during these two years that other men were nice or handsome or exciting？ How could she have even endured hearing them make love to her when Ashley was in the world？ He was home again； separated from her only by the width of the parlor rug； and it took all her strength not to dissolve in happy tears every time she looked at him sitting there on the sofa with Melly on one side and India on the other and Honey hanging over his shoulder。 If only she had the right to sit there beside him； her arm through his！ If only she could pat his sleeve every few minutes to make sure he was really there； hold his hand and use his handkerchief to wipe away her tears of joy。 For Melanie was doing all these things； unashamedly。 Too happy to be shy and reserved； she hung on her husband’s arm and adored him openly with her eyes； with her smiles； her tears。 And Scarlett was too happy to resent this； too glad to be jealous。 Ashley was home at last！
Now and then she put her hand up to her cheek where he had kissed her and felt again the thrill of his lips and smiled at him。 He had not kissed her first； of course。 Melly had hurled herself into his arms crying incoherently； holding him as though she would never let him go。 And then； India and Honey had hugged him； fairly tearing him from Melanie’s arms。 Then he had kissed his father； with a dignified affectionate embrace that showed the strong quiet feeling that lay between them。 And then Aunt Pitty； who was jumping up and down on her inadequate little feet with excitement。 Finally he turned to her； surrounded by all the boys who were claiming their kisses； and said： “Oh； Scarlett！ You pretty； pretty thing！” and kissed her on the cheek。
With that kiss； everything she had intended to say in welcome took wings。 Not until hours later did she recall that he had not kissed her on the lips。 Then she wondered feverishly if he would have done it had she met him alone； bending his tall body over hers； pulling her up on tiptoe； holding her for a long； long time。 And because it made her happy to think so； she believed that he would。 But there would be time for all things； a whole week！ Surely she could maneuver to get him alone and say： “Do you remember those rides we used to take down our secret bridle paths？” “Do you remember how the moon looked that night when we sat on the steps at Tara and you quoted that poem？” （Good Heavens！ What was the name of that poem； anyway？） “Do you remember that afternoon when I sprained my ankle and you carried me home in your arms in the twilight？”
Oh； there were so many things she would preface with “Do you remember？” So many dear memories that would bring back to him those lovely days when they roamed the County like care…free children； so many things that would call to mind the days before Melanie Hamilton entered on the scene。 And while they talked she could perhaps read in his eyes some quickening of emotion； some hint that behind the barrier of husbandly affection for Melanie he still cared； cared as passionately as on that day of the barbecue when he burst forth with the truth。 It did not occur to her to plan just what they would do if Ashley should declare his love for her in unmistakable words。 It would be enough to know that he did care。 。。。 Yes； she could wait； could let Melanie have her happy hour of squeezing his arm and crying。 Her time would come。 After all； what did a girl like Melanie know of love？
“Darling； you look like a ragamuffin；” said Melanie when the first excitement of homecoming was over。 “Who did mend your uniform and why did they use blue patches？”
“I thought I looked perfectly dashing；” said Ashley； considering his appearance。 “Just compare me with those rag…tags over there and you’ll appreciate me more。 Mose mended the uniform and I thought he did very well； considering that he’d never had a needle in his hand before the war。 About the blue cloth； when it comes to a choice between having holes in your britches or patching them with pieces of a captured Yankee uniform—well； there just isn’t any choice。 And as for looking like a ragamuffin； you should thank your stars your husband didn’t come home barefooted。 Last week my old boots wore completely out； and I would have come home with sacks tied on my feet if we hadn’t had the good luck to shoot two Yankee scouts。 The boots of one of them fitted me perfectly。”
He stretched out his long legs in their scarred high boots for them to admire。
“And the boots of the other scout didn’t fit me；” said Cade。 “They’re two sizes too small and they’re killing me this minute。 But I’m going home in style just the same。”
“And the selfish swine won’t give them to either of us；” said Tony。 “And they’d fit our small； aristocratic Fontaine feet perfectly。 Hell’s afire； I’m ashamed to face Mother in these brogans。 Before the war she wouldn’t have let one of our darkies wear them。”
“Don’t worry；” said Alex； eyeing Cade’s boots。 “We’ll take them off of him on the train going home。 I don’t mind facing Mother but I’m da—I mean I don’t intend for Dimity Munroe to see my toes sticking out。”
“Why； they’re my boots。 I claimed them first；” said Tony； beginning to scowl at his brother； and Melanie； fluttering with fear at the possibility of one of the famous Fontaine quarrels； interposed and made peace。
“I had a full beard to show you girls；” said Ashley； ruefully rubbing his face where half…healed razor nicks still showed。 “It was a beautiful beard and if I do say it myself； neither Jeb Stuart nor Nathan Bedford Forrest had a handsomer one。 But when we got to Richmond； those two scoundrels；” indicating the Fontaines； “decided that as they were shaving their beards； mine should come off too。 They got me down and shaved me； and it’s a wonder my head didn’t come off along with the beard。 It was only by the intervention of Evan and Cade that my mustache was saved。”
“Snakes； Mrs。 Wilkes！ You ought to thank me。 You’d never have recognized him and wouldn’t have let him in the door；” said Alex。 “We did it to show our appreciation of his talking the provost guard out of putting us in jail。 If you say the word； we’ll take the mustache off for you； right now。”
“Oh； no； thank you！” said Melanie hastily； clutching Ashley in a frightened way； for the two swarthy little men looked capable of any violence。 “I think it’s perfectly lovely。”
That’s love；” said the Fontaines； nodding gravely at each other。
When Ashley went into the cold to see the boys off to the depot in Aunt Pitty’s carriage； Melanie caught Scarlett’s arm。
“Isn’t his uniform dreadful？ Won’t my coat be a surprise？ Oh； if only I had enough cloth for britches too！”
That coat for Ashley was a sore subject with Scarlett； for she wished so ardently that she and not Melanie were bestowing it as a Christmas gift。 Gray wool for uniforms was now almost literally more priceless than rubies； and Ashley was wearing the familiar homespun。 Even butternut was now none too plentiful； and many of the soldiers were dressed in captured Yankee uniforms which had been turned a dark…brown color with walnut…shell dye。 But Melanie； by rare luck； had come into possession of enough gray broadcloth to make a coat—a rather short coat but a coat just the same。 She had nursed a Charleston boy in the hospital and when he died had clipped a lock of his hair and sent it to his mother； along with the scant contents of his pockets and a comforting account of his last hours which made no mention of the torment in which he died。 A correspondence had sprung up between them and； learning that Melanie had a husband at the front； the mother had sent her the length of gray cloth and brass buttons which she had bought for her dead son。 It was a beautiful piece of material； thick and warm and with a dull sheen to it undoubtedly blockade goods and undoubtedly very expensive。 It was now in the hands of the tailor and Melanie was hurrying him to have it ready by Christmas morning。 Scarlett would have given anything to be able to provide the rest of the uniform； but the necessary materials were simply not to be had in Atlanta。
She had a Christmas present for Ashley； but it paled in insignificance beside the glory of Melanie’s gray coat。 It was a small “housewife；” made of flannel； containing the whole precious pack of needles Rhett had brought her from Nassau； three of her linen handkerchiefs； obtained from the same source； two spools of thread and a small pair of scissors。 But she wanted to give him something more personal； something a wife could give a husband； a shirt； a pair of gauntlets； a hat。 Oh； yes； a hat by all means。 That little flat…topped forage cap Ashley was wearing looked ridiculous。 Scarlett had always hated them。 What if Stonewall Jackson had worn one in preference to a slouch felt？ That didn’t make them any more dignified looking。 But the only hats obtainable in Atlanta were crudely made wool hats； and they were tackier than the monkey…hat forage caps。
When she thought of hats； she thought of Rhett Butler。 He had so many hats； wide Panamas for summer； tall beavers for formal occasions； hunting hats； slouch hats of tan and black and blue。 What need had he for so many when her darling Ashley rode in the rain with moisture dripping down his collar from the back of his cap？
“I’ll make Rhett give me that new black felt of his；” she decided。 “And I’ll put a gray ribbon around the brim and sew Ashley’s wreath on it and it will look lovely。”
She paused and thought it might be difficult to get the hat without some explanation。 She simply could not tell Rhett she wanted it for Ashley。 He would raise his brows in that nasty way he always had when she even mentioned Ashley’s name and； like as not； would refuse to give her the hat。 Well； she’d make up some pitiful story about a soldier in the hospital who needed it and Rhett need never know the truth。
All that afternoon； she maneuvered to be alone with Ashley； even for a few minutes； but Melanie was beside him constantly； and India and Honey； their pale lashless eyes glowing； followed him about