Along the way to the lumber yard she stopped a dozen times to speak with Carpetbagger
ladies in splendid equipages--not so splendid as her own, she thought with pleasure--and with many men who came through the red dust of the street to stand hat in hand and compliment her.
It was a beautiful afternoon, she was happy, she looked pretty and her progress was a royal one.
Because of these delays she arrived at the lumber yard later than she intended and found Hugh and the team drivers sitting on a low pile of lumber waiting for her.
"Is Ashley here?"
"Yes, he's in the office," said Hugh, the habitually worried expression leaving his face at the sight of her happy, dancing eyes. "He's trying to--I mean, he's going over the books."
"Oh, he needn't bother about that today," she said and then lowering her voice: "Melly sent me down to keep him here till they get the house straight for the reception tonight."
Hugh smiled for he was going to the reception. He liked parties and he guessed Scarlett
did too from the way she looked this afternoon. She paid off the teamsters and Hugh and,
abruptly leaving them, walked toward the office, showing plainly by her manner that she did not care to be accompanied. Ashley met her at the door and stood in the afternoon sunshine, his hair bright and on his lips a little smile that was almost a grin.
"Why, Scarlett, what are you doing downtown this time of the day? Why aren't you out at my house helping Melly get ready for the surprise party?"
"Why, Ashley Wilkes!" she cried indignantly. "You weren't supposed to know a thing about it. Melly will be so disappointed if you aren't surprised."
"Oh, I won't let on. I'll be the most surprised man in Atlanta," said Ashley, his eyes laughing.
"Now, who was mean enough to tell you?"
"Practically every man Melly invited. General Gordon was the first. He said it had been his experience that when women gave surprise parties they usually gave them on the very nights men had decided to polish and clean all the guns in the house. And then Grandpa Merriwether warned me. He said Mrs. Merriwether gave him a surprise party once and she was the most
surprised person there, because Grandpa had been treating his rheumatism, on the sly, with a bottle of whisky and he was too drunk to get out of bed and--oh, every man who's ever had a surprise party given him told me."
"The mean things!" cried Scarlett but she had to smile.
He looked like the old Ashley she knew at Twelve Oaks when he smiled like this. And he
smiled so seldom these days. The air was so soft, the sun so gentle, Ashley's face so gay, his talk so unconstrained that her heart leaped with happiness. It swelled in her bosom until it positively ached with pleasure, ached as with a burden of joyful, hot, unshed tears. Suddenly she felt sixteen again and happy, a little breathless and excited. She had a mad impulse to snatch off her bonnet and toss it into the air and cry "Hurray!" Then she thought how startled Ashley would be if she did this, and she suddenly laughed, laughed until tears came to her eyes. He laughed, too, throwing back his head as though he enjoyed laughter, thinking her mirth came from the friendly treachery of the men who had given Melly's secret away.
"Come in, Scarlett. I'm going over the books."
She passed into the small room, blazing with the afternoon sun, and sat down in the chair before the roll-topped desk. Ashley, following her, seated himself on the corner of the rough table, his long legs dangling easily.
"Oh, don't let's fool with any books this afternoon, Ashley! I just can't be bothered. When I'm wearing a new bonnet, it seems like all the figures I know leave my head."
"Figures are well lost when the bonnet's as pretty as that one," he said. "Scarlett, you get prettier all the time!"
He slipped from the table and, laughing, took her hands, spreading them wide so he could
see her dress. "You are so pretty! I don't believe you'll ever get old!"
At his touch she realized that, without being conscious of it, she had hoped that just this thing would happen. All this happy afternoon, she had hoped for the warmth of his hands, the tenderness of his eyes, a word that would show he cared. This was the first time they had been
utterly alone since the cold day in the orchard at Tara, the first time their hands had met in any but formal gestures, and through the long months she had hungered for closer contact. But now--
How odd that the touch of his hands did not excite her! Once his very nearness would
have set her a-tremble. Now she felt a curious warm friendliness and content. No fever leaped from his hands to hers and in his hands her heart hushed to happy quietness. This puzzled her, made her a little disconcerted. He was still her Ashley, still her bright, shining darling and she loved him better than life. Then why--