"Oh, Mr. Kennedy, please don't let's talk--"
"I'm sorry, Miss Scarlett," and he shuffled his feet nervously. "The truth is I wanted to take up something with your pa and now I see it won't do any good."
"Perhaps I can help you, Mr. Kennedy. You see--I'm the head of the house now."
"Well, I," began Frank and again clawed nervously at his beard. "The truth is--Well, Miss Scarlett, I was aiming to ask him for Miss Suellen."
"Do you mean to tell me," cried Scarlett in amused amazement, "that you haven't yet asked Pa for Suellen? And you've been courting her for years!"
He flushed and grinned embarrassedly and in general looked like a shy and sheepish boy.
"Well, I--I didn't know if she'd have me. I'm so much older than she is and--there were so many good-looking young bucks hanging around Tara--"
"Hump!" thought Scarlett, "they were hanging around me, not her!"
"And I don't know yet if she'll have me. I've never asked her but she must know how I feel. I--I thought I'd ask Mr. O'Hara's permission and tell him the truth. Miss Scarlett, I haven't got a cent now. I used to have a lot of money, if you'll forgive me mentioning it, but right now all I own is my horse and the clothes I've got on. You see, when I enlisted I sold most of my land and I put all my money in Confederate bonds and you know what they're worth now. Less than the paper they're printed on. And anyway, I haven't got them now, because they burned up when the Yankees burned my sister's house. I know I've got gall asking for Miss Suellen now when I haven't a cent but--well, it's this way. I got to thinking that we don't know how things are going to turn out about this war. It sure looks like the end of the world for me. There's nothing we can be sure of and--and I thought it would be a heap of comfort to me and maybe to her if we were engaged. That would be something sure. I wouldn't ask to marry her till I could take care of her, Miss Scarlett, and I don't know when that will be. But if true love carries any weight with you, you can be certain Miss Suellen will be rich in that if nothing else."
He spoke the last words with a simple dignity that touched Scarlett, even in her
amusement. It was beyond her comprehension that anyone could love Suellen. Her sister seemed to her a monster of selfishness, of complaints and of what she could only describe as pure cussedness.
"Why, Mr. Kennedy," she said kindly, "it's quite all right. I'm sure I can speak for Pa. He always set a store by you and he always expected Suellen to marry you."
"Did he now?" cried Frank, happiness in his face.
"Indeed yes," answered Scarlett, concealing a grin as she remembered how frequently Gerald had rudely bellowed across the supper table to Suellen: "How now, Missy! Hasn't your ardent beau popped the question yet? Shall I be asking him his intentions?"
"I shall ask her tonight," he said, his face quivering, and he clutched her hand and shook it. "You're so kind, Miss Scarlett."
"I'll send her to' you," smiled Scarlett, starting for the parlor. Melanie was beginning to play. The piano was sadly out of tune but some of the chords were musical and Melanie was raising her voice to lead the others in "Hark, the Herald Angels Sing!"
Scarlett paused. It did not seem possible that war had swept over them twice, that they
were living in a ravaged country, close to the border of starvation, when this old sweet Christmas hymn was being sung. Abruptly she turned to Frank.
"What did you mean when you said it looked like the end of the world to you?"
"I'll talk frankly," he said slowly, "but I wouldn't want you to be alarming the other ladies with what I say. The war can't go on much longer. There arent any fresh men to fill the ranks and the desertions are running high--higher than the army likes to admit You see, the men can't stand to be away from their families when they know they're starving, so they go home to try to provide for them. I can't blame them but it weakens the army. And the army can't fight without food and there isn't any food. I know because, you see, getting food is my business. I've been all up and down this section since we retook Atlanta and there isn't enough to feed a jaybird. It's the same way for three hundred miles south to Savannah. The folks are starving and the railroads are torn up and there aren't any new rifles and the ammunition is giving out and there's no leather at all for shoes… So, you see, the end is almost here."
But the fading hopes of the Confederacy weighed less heavily on Scarlett than his remark