飘

　“Miss　Scarlett；　what　are　you　doing　over　in　this　section　by　yourself？　Don’t　you　know　ifs　dangerous　these　days？　And　you　are　soaking　wet。　Here；　wrap　the　robe　around　your　feet。”
　As　he　fussed　over　her；　clucking　like　a　hen；　she　gave　herself　up　to　the　luxury　of　being　taken　care　of。　It　was　nice　to　have　a　man　fussing　and　clucking　and　scolding；　even　if　it　was　only　that　old　maid　in　pants；　Frank　Kennedy。　It　was　especially　soothing　after　Rhett’s　brutal　treatment。　And　oh；　how　good　to　see　a　County　face　when　she　was　so　far　from　home！　He　was　well　dressed；　she　noticed；　and　the　buggy　was　new　too。　The　horse　looked　young　and　well　fed；　but　Frank　looked　far　older　than　his　years；　older　than　on　that　Christmas　eve　when　he　had　been　at　Tara　with　his　men。　He　was　thin　and　sallow　faced　and　his　yellow　eyes　were　watery　and　sunken　in　creases　of　loose　flesh。　His　ginger…colored　beard　was　scantier　than　ever；　streaked　with　tobacco　juice　and　as　ragged　as　if　he　clawed　at　it　incessantly。　But　he　looked　bright　and　cheerful；　in　contrast　with　the　lines　of　sorrow　and　worry　and　weariness　which　Scarlett　saw　in　faces　everywhere。
　“It’s　a　pleasure　to　see　you；”　said　Frank　warmly。　I　didn’t　know　you　were　in　town。　I　saw　Miss　Pittypat　only　last　week　and　she　didn’t　tell　me　you　were　coming。　Did—er—ahem—did　anyone　else　come　op　from　Tara　with　you？”
　He　was　thinking　of　Suellen；　the　silly　old　fool！
　“No；”　she　said；　wrapping　the　warm　lap　robe　about　her　and　trying　to　pull　it　up　around　her　neck。　“I　came　alone。　I　didn’t　give　Aunt　Pitty　any　warning。”
　He　chirruped　to　the　horse　and　it　plodded　off；　picking　its　way　carefully　down　the　slick　road。
　“All　the　folks　at　Tara　well？”
　“Oh；　yes；　so…so。”
　She　must　think　of　something　to　talk　about；　yet　it　was　so　hard　to　talk。　Her　mind　was　leaden　with　defeat　and　all　she　wanted　was　to　lie　back　in　this　warm　blanket　and　say　to　herself：　I　won’t　think　of　Tara　now。　I’ll　think　of　it　later；　when　it　won’t　hurt　so　much。”　If　she　could　just　get　him　started　talking　on　some　subject　which　would　hold　him　all　the　way　home；　so　she　would　have　nothing　to　do　but　murmur　“How　nice”　and　“You　certainly　are　smart”　at　intervals。
　“Mr。　Kennedy；　I’m　so　surprised　to　see　you。　I　know　I’ve　been　a　bad　girl；　not　keeping　up　with　old　friends；　but　I　didn’t　know　you　were　here　in　Atlanta。　I　thought　somebody　told　me　you　were　in　Marietta。”
　“I　do　business　in　Marietta；　a　lot　of　business；”　he　said。　“Didn’t　Miss　Suellen　tell　you　I　had　settled　in　Atlanta？　Didn’t　she　tell　you　about　my　store？”
　Vaguely　she　had　a　memory　of　Suellen　chattering　about　Frank　and　a　store　but　she　never　paid　much　heed　to　anything　Suellen　said。　It　had　been　sufficient　to　know　that　Frank　was　alive　and　would　some　day　take　Suellen　off　her　hands。
　“No；　not　a　word；”　she　lied。　“Have　you　a　store？　How　smart　you　must　be！”
　He　looked　a　little　hurt　at　hearing　that　Suellen　had　not　published　the　news　but　brightened　at　the　flattery。
　“Yes；　I’ve　got　a　store；　and　a　pretty　good　one　I　think。　Folks　tell　me　I’m　a　born　merchant。”　He　laughed　pleasedly；　the　tittery　cackling　laugh　which　she　always　found　so　annoying。
　Conceited　old　fool；　she　thought。
　“Oh；　you　could　be　a　success　at　anything　you　turned　your　hand　to；　Mr。　Kennedy。　But　how　on　earth　did　you　ever　get　started　with　the　store？　When　I　saw　you　Christmas　before　last　you　said　you　didn’t　have　a　cent　in　the　world。”
　He　cleared　his　throat　raspingly；　clawed　at　his　whiskers　and　smiled　his　nervous　timid　smile。
　“Well；　it’s　a　long　story；　Miss　Scarlett。”
　Thank　the　Lord！　she　thought。　Perhaps　it　will　hold　him　till　we　get　home。　And　aloud：　“Do　tell！”
　“You　recall　when　we　came　to　Tara　last；　hunting　for　supplies？　Well；　not　long　after　that　I　went　into　active　service。　I　mean　real　fighting。　No　more　commissary　for　me。　There　wasn’t　much　need　for　a　commissary；　Miss　Scarlett；　because　we　couldn’t　hardly　pick　up　a　thing　for　the　army；　and　I　thought　the　place　for　an　able…bodied　man　was　in　the　fighting　line。　Well；　I　fought　along　with　the　cavalry　for　a　spell　till　I　got　a　minie　ball　through　the　shoulder。”
　He　looked　very　proud　and　Scarlett　said：　“How　dreadful！”
　“Oh；　it　wasn’t　so　bad；　just　a　flesh　wound；”　he　said　deprecatingly。　“I　was　sent　down　south　to　a　hospital　and　when　I　was　just　about　well；　the　Yankee　raiders　came　through。　My；　my；　but　that　was　a　hot　time！　We　didn’t　have　much　warning　and　all　of　us　who　could　walk　helped　haul　out　the　army　stores　and　the　hospital　equipment　to　the　train　tracks　to　move　it。　We’d　gotten　one　train　about　loaded　when　the　Yankees　rode　in　one　end　of　town　and　out　we　went　the　other　end　as　fast　as　we　could　go。　My；　my；　that　was　a　mighty　sad　sight；　sitting　on　top　of　that　train　and　seeing　the　Yankees　burn　those　supplies　we　had　to　leave　at　the　depot。　Miss　Scarlett；　they　burned　about　a　half…mile　of　stuff　we　had　piled　up　there　along　the　tracks。　We　just　did　get　away　ourselves。”
　“How　dreadful！”
　“Yes；　that’s　the　word。　Dreadful。　Our　men　had　come　back　into　Atlanta　then　and　so　our　train　was　sent　here。　Well；　Miss　Scarlett；　it　wasn’t　long　before　the　war　was　over　and—well；　there　was　a　lot　of　china　and　cots　and　mattresses　and　blankets　and　nobody　claiming　them。　I　suppose　rightfully　they　belonged　to　the　Yankees。　I　think　those　were　the　terms　of　the　surrender；　weren’t　they？”
　“Um；”　said　Scarlett　absently。　She　was　getting　warmer　now　and　a　little　drowsy。
　“I　don’t　know　till　now　if　I　did　right；”　he　said；　a　little　querulously。　“But　the　way　I　figured　it；　all　that　stuff　wouldn’t　do　the　Yankees　a　bit　of　good。　They’d　probably　burn　it。　And　our　folks　had　paid　good　solid　money　for　it；　and　I　thought　it　still　ought　to　belong　to　the　Confederacy　or　to　the　Confederates。　Do　you　see　what　I　mean？”
　“Um。”
　“I’m　glad　you　agree　with　me；　Miss　Scarlett。　In　a　way；　it’s　been　on　my　conscience。　Lots　of　folks　have　told　me：　‘Oh；　forget　about　it；　Frank；’　but　I　can’t　I　couldn’t　hold　up　my　head　if　I　thought　I’d　done　what　wasn’t　right。　Do　you　think　I　did　right？”
　“Of　course；”　she　said；　wondering　what　the　old　fool　had　been　talking　about。　Some　struggle　with　his　conscience。　When　a　man　got　as　old　as　Frank　Kennedy　he　ought　to　have　learned　not　to　bother　about　things　that　didn’t　matter。　But　he　always　was　so　nervous　and　fussy　and　old　maidish。
　“I’m　glad　to　hear　you　say　it。　After　the　surrender　I　had　about　ten　dollars　in　silver　and　nothing　else　in　the　world。　You　know　what　they　did　to　Jonesboro　and　my　house　and　store　there。　I　just　didn’t　know　what　to　do。　But　I　used　the　ten　dollars　to　put　a　roof　on　an　old　store　down　by　Five　Points　and　I　moved　the　hospital　equipment　in　and　started　selling　it。　Everybody　needed　beds　and　china　and　mattresses　and　I　sold　them　cheap；　because　I　figured　it　was　about　as　much　other　folks’　stuff　as　it　was　mine。　But　I　cleared　money　on　it　and　bought　some　more　stuff　and　the　store　just　went　along　fine。　I　think　I’ll　make　a　lot　of　money　on　it　if　things　pick　up。”
　At　the　word　“money；”　her　mind　came　back　to　him；　crystal　clear。
　“You　say　you’ve　made　money？”
　He　visibly　expanded　under　her　interest。　Few　women　except　Suellen　had　ever　given　him　more　than　perfunctory　courtesy　and　it　was　very　flattering　to　have　a　former　belle　like　Scarlett　hanging　on　his　words。　He　slowed　the　horse　so　they　would　not　reach　home　before　he　had　finished　his　story。
　“I’m　not　a　millionaire；　Miss　Scarlett；　and　considering　the　money　I　used　to　have；　what　I’ve　got　now　sounds　small。　But　I　made　a　thousand　dollars　this　year。　Of　course；　five　hundred　of　it　went　to　paying　for　new　stock　and　repairing　the　store　and　paying　the　rent。　But　I’ve　made　five　hundred　clear　and　as　things　are　certainly　picking　up；　I　ought　to　clear　two　thousand　next　year。　I　can　sure　use　it；　too；　for　you　see；　I’ve　got　another　iron　in　the　fire。”
　Interest　had　sprung　up　sharply　in　her　at　the　talk　of　money。　She　veiled　her　eyes　with　thick　bristly　lashes　and　moved　a　little　closer　to　him。
　“What　does　that　mean；　Mr。　Kennedy？”
　He　laughed　and　slapped　the　reins　against　the　horse’s　back。
　“I　guess　I’m　boring　you；　talking　about　business；　Miss　Scarlett。　A　pretty　little　woman　like　you　doesn’t　need　to　know　anything　about　business。”
　The　old　fool。
　“Oh；　I　know　I’m　a　goose　about　business　but　I’m　so　interested！　Please　tell　me　all　about　it　and　you　can　explain　what　I　don’t　understand。”
　“Well；　my　other　iron　is　a　sawmill。”
　“A　what？”
　“A　mill　to　cut　up　lumber　and　plane　it。　I　haven’t　bought　it　yet　but　I’m　going　to。　There’s　a　man　named　Johnson　who　has　one；　way　out　Peachtree　road；　and　he’s　anxious　to　sell　it。　He　needs　some　cash　right　away；　so　he　wants　to　sell　and　stay　and　run　it　for　me　at　a　weekly　wage。　It’s　one　of　the　few　mills　in　this　section；　Miss　Scarlett。　The　Yankees　destroyed　most　of　them。　And　anyone　who　owns　a　sawmill　owns　a　gold　mine；　for　nowadays　you　can　ask　your　own　price　for　lumber。　The　Yankees　burned　so　many　houses　here　and　there　aren’t　enough　for　people　to　live　in　and　it　looks　like　folks　have　gone　crazy　about　rebuilding。　They　can’t　get　enough　lumber　and　they　can’t　get　it　fast　enough。　People　are　just　pouring　into　Atlanta　now；　all　the　folks　from　the　country　districts　who　can’t　make　a　go　of　farming　without　darkies　and　the　Yankees　and　Carpetbaggers　who　are　swarming　in　trying　to　pick　our　bones　a　little　barer　than　they　alre