“ Scarlett,” she whispered as she clutched the bill, “what was the good of it all? Why did we ever fight? Oh, my poor Joe! Oh, my poor baby!”
“ I don’t know why we fought and I don’t care,” said Scarlett. “And I’m not interested. I never was interested. War is a man’s business, not a woman’s. All I’m interested in now is a good cotton crop. Now take this dollar and buy little Joe a dress. God knows, he needs it. I’m not going to rob you of your corn, for all Alex and Tony’s politeness.”
The boys followed her to the wagon and assisted her in, courtly for all their rags, gay with the volatile Fontaine gaiety, but with the picture of their destitution in her eyes, she shivered as she drove away from Mimosa. She was so tired of poverty and pinching. What a pleasure it would be to know peop
