飘

　abed。　Where　vacant　lots　had　been　a　year　before；　there　were　now　factories　turning　out　harness；　saddles　and　shoes；　ordnance…supply　plants　making　rifles　and　cannon；　rolling　mills　and　foundries　producing　iron　rails　and　freight　cars　to　replace　those　destroyed　by　the　Yankees；　and　a　variety　of　industries　manufacturing　spurs；　bridle　bits；　buckles；　tents；　buttons；　pistols　and　swords。　Already　the　foundries　were　beginning　to　feel　the　lack　of　iron；　for　little　or　none　came　through　the　blockade；　and　the　mines　in　Alabama　were　standing　almost　idle　while　the　miners　were　at　the　front。　There　were　no　iron　picket　fences；　iron　summerhouses；　iron　gates　or　even　iron　statuary　on　the　lawns　of　Atlanta　now；　for　they　had　early　found　their　way　into　the　melting　pots　of　the　rolling　mills。
　Here　along　Peachtree　Street　and　near…by　streets　were　the　headquarters　of　the　various　army　departments；　each　office　swarming　with　uniformed　men；　the　commissary；　the　signal　corps；　the　mail　service；　the　railway　transport；　the　provost　marshal。　On　the　outskirts　of　town　were　the　remount　depots　where　horses　and　mules　milled　about　in　large　corrals；　and　along　side　streets　were　the　hospitals。　As　Uncle　Peter　told　her　about　them；　Scarlet　felt　that　Atlanta　must　be　a　city　of　the　wounded；　for　there　were　general　hospitals；　contagious　hospitals；　convalescent　hospitals　without　number。　And　every　day　the　trains　just　below　Five　Points　disgorged　more　sick　and　more　wounded。
　The　little　town　was　gone　and　the　face　of　the　rapidly　growing　city　was　animated　with　never…ceasing　energy　and　bustle。　The　sight　of　so　much　hurrying　made　Scarlett；　fresh　from　rural　leisure　and　quiet；　almost　breathless；　but　she　liked　it。　There　was　an　exciting　atmosphere　about　the　place　that　uplifted　her。　It　was　as　if　she　could　actually　feel　the　accelerated　steady　pulse　of　the　town’s　heart　beating　in　time　with　her　own。
　As　they　slowly　made　their　way　through　the　mudholes　of　the　town’s　chief　street；　she　noted　with　interest　all　the　new　buildings　and　the　new　faces。　The　sidewalks　were　crowded　with　men　in　uniform；　bearing　the　insignia　of　all　ranks　and　all　service　branches；　the　narrow　street　was　jammed　with　vehicles—carriages；　buggies；　ambulances；　covered　army　wagons　with　profane　drivers　swearing　as　the　mules　struggled　through　the　ruts；　gray…clad　couriers　dashed　spattering　through　the　streets　from　one　headquarters　to　another；　bearing　orders　and　telegraphic　dispatches；　convalescents　limped　about　on　crutches；　usually　with　a　solicitous　lady　at　either　elbow；　bugle　and　drum　and　barked　orders　sounded　from　the　drill　fields　where　the　recruits　were　being　turned　into　soldiers；　and　with　her　heart　in　her　throat；　Scarlett　had　her　first　sight　of　Yankee　uniforms；　as　Uncle　Peter　pointed　with　his　whip　to　a　detachment　of　dejected…looking　bluecoats　being　shepherded　toward　the　depot　by　a　squad　of　Confederates　with　fixed　bayonets；　to　entrain　for　the　prison　camp。
　“Oh；”　thought　Scarlett；　with　the　first　feeling　of　real　pleasure　she　had　experienced　since　the　day　of　the　barbecue；　I’m　going　to　like　it　here！　It’s　so　alive　and　exciting！”
　The　town　was　even　more　alive　than　she　realized；　for　there　were　new　barrooms　by　the　dozens；　prostitutes；　following　the　army；　swarmed　the　town　and　bawdy　houses　were　blossoming　with　women　to　the　consternation　of　the　church　people。　Every　hotel；　boarding　house　and　private　residence　was　crammed　with　visitors　who　had　come　to　be　near　wounded　relatives　in　the　big　Atlanta　hospitals。　There　were　parties　and　balls　and　bazaars　every　week　and　war　weddings　without　number；　with　the　grooms　on　furlough　in　bright　gray　and　gold　braid　and　the　brides　in　blockade…run　finery；　aisles　of　crossed　swords；　toasts　drunk　in　blockaded　champagne　and　tearful　farewells。　Nightly　the　dark　tree…lined　streets　resounded　with　dancing　feet；　and　from　parlors　tinkled　pianos　where　soprano　voices　blended　with　those　of　soldier　guests　in　the　pleasing　melancholy　of　“The　Bugles　Sang　Truce”　and　“Your　Letter　Came；　but　Came　Too　Late”—plaintive　ballads　that　brought　exciting　tears　to　soft　eyes　which　had　never　known　the　tears　of　real　grief。
　As　they　progressed　down　the　street；　through　the　sucking　mud；　Scarlett　bubbled　over　with　questions　and　Peter　answered　them；　pointing　here　and　there　with　his　whip；　proud　to　display　his　knowledge。
　“Dat　air　de　arsenal。　Yas’m；　dey　keeps　guns　an’　sech　lak　dar。　No’m；　dem　air　ain’　sto’s；　dey’s　blockade　awfisses。　Law；　Miss　Scarlett；　doan　you　know　whut　blockade　awfisses　is？　Dey’s　awfisses　whar　furriners　stays　dat　buy　us　Confedruts’　cotton　an’　ship　it　outer　Cha’ston　and　Wilmin’ton　an’　ship　us　back　gunpowder。　No’m；　Ah　ain’　sho　whut　kine　of　furriners　dey　is。　Miss　Pitty；　she　say　dey　is　Inlish　but　kain　nobody　unnerstan　a’　wud　dey　says。　Yas’m　‘tis　pow’ful　smoky　an’　de　soot　jes’　ruinin’　Miss　Pitty’s　silk　cuttins。　If　frum　de　foun’ry　an’　de　rollin’　mills。　An’　de　noise　dey　meks　at　night！　Kain　nobody　sleep。　No’m；　Ah　kain　stop　fer　you　ter　look　around。　Ah　done　promise　Miss　Pitty　Ah　bring　you　straight　home。　…　Miss　Scarlett；　mek　yo’　cu’tsy。　Dar’s　Miss　Merriwether　an’　Miss　Elsing　a…bowin’　to　you。”
　Scarlett　vaguely　remembered　two　ladies　of　those　names　who　came　from　Atlanta　to　Tara　to　attend　her　wedding　and　she　remembered　that　they　were　Miss　Pittypat’s　best　friends。　So　she　turned　quickly　where　Uncle　Peter　pointed　and　bowed。　The　two　were　sitting　in　a　carriage　outside　a　drygoods　store。　The　proprietor　and　two　clerks　stood　on　the　sidewalk　with　armfuls　of　bolts　of　cotton　cloth　they　had　been　displaying。　Mrs。　Merriwether　was　a　tall；　stout　woman　and　so　tightly　corseted　that　her　bust　jutted　forward　like　the　prow　of　a　ship。　Her　iron…gray　hair　was　eked　out　by　a　curled　false　fringe　that　was　proudly　brown　and　disdained　to　match　the　rest　of　her　hair。　She　had　a　round；　highly　colored　face　in　which　was　combined　good…natured　shrewdness　and　the　habit　of　command。　Mrs。　Elsing　was　younger；　a　thin　frail　woman；　who　had　been　a　beauty；　and　about　her　there　still　clung　a　faded　freshness；　a　dainty　imperious　air。
　These　two　ladies　with　a　third；　Mrs。　Whiting；　were　the　pillars　of　Atlanta。　They　ran　the　three　churches　to　which　they　belonged；　the　clergy；　the　choirs　and　the　parishioners。　They　organized　bazaars　and　presided　over　sewing　circles；　they　chaperoned　balls　and　picnics；　they　knew　who　made　good　matches　and　who　did　not；　who　drank　secretly；　who　were　to　have　babies　and　when。　They　were　authorities　on　the　genealogies　of　everyone　who　was　anyone　in　Georgia；　South　Carolina　and　Virginia　and　did　not　bother　their　heads　about　the　other　states；　because　they　believed　that　no　one　who　was　anybody　ever　came　from　states　other　than　these　three。　They　knew　what　was　decorous　behavior　and　what　was　not　and　they　never　failed　to　make　their　opinions　known—Mrs。　Merriwether　at　the　top　of　her　voice；　Mrs。　Elsing　in　an　elegant　die…away　drawl　and　Mrs。　Whiting　in　a　distressed　whisper　which　showed　how　much　she　hated　to　speak　of　such　things。　These　three　ladies　disliked　and　distrusted　one　another　as　heartily　as　the　First　Triumvirate　of　Rome；　and　their　close　alliance　was　probably　for　the　same　reason。
　“I　told　Pitty　I　had　to　have　you　in　my　hospital；”　called　Mrs。　Merriwether；　smiling。　“Don’t　you　go　promising　Mrs。　Meade　or　Mrs。　Whiting！”
　“I　won’t；”　said　Scarlett；　having　no　idea　what　Mrs。　Merriwether　was　talking　about　but　feeling　a　glow　of　warmth　at　being　welcomed　and　wanted。　“I　hope　to　see　you　again　soon。”
　The　carriage　plowed　its　way　farther　and　halted　for　a　moment　to　permit　two　ladies　with　baskets　of　bandages　on　their　arms　to　pick　precarious　passages　across　the　sloppy　street　on　stepping　stones。　At　the　same　moment；　Scarlett’s　eye　was　caught　by　a　figure　on　the　sidewalk　in　a　brightly　colored　dress—too　bright　for　street　wear—covered　by　a　Paisley　shawl　with　fringes　to　the　heels。　Turning　she　saw　a　tall　handsome　woman　with　a　bold　face　and　a　mass　of　red　hair；　too　red　to　be　true。　It　was　the　first　time　she　had　ever　seen　any　woman　who　she　knew　for　certain　had　“done　something　to　her　hair”　and　she　watched　her；　fascinated。
　“Uncle　Peter；　who　is　that？”　she　whispered。
　“Ah　doan　know。”
　“You　do；　too。　I　can　tell。　Who　is　she？”
　“Her　name　Belle　Watling；”　said　Uncle　Peter；　his　lower　lip　beginning　to　protrude。
　Scarlett　was　quick　to　catch　the　fact　that　he　had　not　preceded　the　name　with　“Miss”　or　“Mrs。”
　“Who　is　she？”
　“Miss　Scarlett；”　said　Peter　darkly；　laying　the　whip　on　the　startled　horse；　“Miss　Pitty　ain　gwine　ter　lak　it　you　astin’　questions　dat　ain’　none　of　yo’　bizness。　Day’s　a　passel　of　no…count　folks　in　dis　town　now　dat　it　ain’　no　use　talkin’　about。”
　“Good　Heavens！”　thought　Scarlett；　reproved　into　silence。　That　must　be　a　bad　woman！”
　She　had　never　seen　a　bad　woman　before　and　she　twisted　her　head　and　stared　after　her　until　she　was　lost　in　the　crowd。
　The　stores　and　the　new　war　buildings　were　farther　apart　now；　with　vacant　lots　between。　Finally　the　business　section　fell　behind　and　the　residences　came　into　view。　Scarlett　picked　them　out　as　old　friends；　the　Leyden　house；　dignified　and　stately；　the　Bonnells’；　with　little　white　columns　and　green；　blinds；　the　close…lipped　red…brick　Georgian　home　of　the　McLure　family；　behind　its　low　box　hedges。　Their　progress　was　slower　now；　for　from　porches　and　gardens　and　sidewalks　ladies　called　to　her