"Mammy? Is that you?"

Mammy, rapping a smart knock on the door, swiftly opened and closed it, heaving in her bosom some restraint, some lifting of her nose towards that breeze through the open window, if her glance had not been cast upon those dresses flung on the bed. Her scowl melted.

"Well. If I ain't gon' tol' you and tol' you, you look lak Miss Ellen moah and moah ever' day. And it's in me, Miss Scarlett - "

Here, Scarlett smiled, and Mammy quickly thrust upon her a tray to gobble, and Scarlett was vexed to be tricked, and ate quickly.

Mammy paused to help tighten the laces on the dress which flounced over Scarlett's hoops, befitting and twiddling with bits and pieces to make it sit right, in a colour that Miss Ellen would approve off. Mammy nodded.

"I ain't never say this. But you is wantin' a better colour. This dress just ain't right - you is a young lady, not a matron. Some husbands just cahn't be catched if you is lookin' lakh you is in mourning."

Scarlett turned, and smiled demurely.

"But Mammy, surely you must know. To attract attention is to warrant it. And what must be the custom - my mother's custom, to be sure - is if in all the graces and charms you'll permit me under this roof and outside it, that a dress alone is not likely to catch a man's attention. It is in every mannerism of passing that might attract him once he is at least over the first stoop, over his audaciousness in supposing he might gather a young woman's attention."

Mammy scowled.

"I don't knoa 'bout all that. But one thing is for certain - you don' need with your looks to go out so downtrodden. No, there is bein' de-mure, and there is bein' an old maid before yoah time. And I won't say it agen - that Miss Melly Hamilton, what I saw'd of her when we was in Atlanta with Miss Pittypat - she has even fewer beaus, even if she is t' kindest lady next to Miss Ellen - an' - well, to yo'self, if it isn't botherin' you that I's forgot."

"Not at all, Mammy. You know Miss Melly is indeed of gracious character. And such that it could be forgiven for mistaking her as Miss Ellen's eldest daughter."

Mammy hissed.

"Now hush! You knows Miss Ellen wants you at dat pahty, you knows she and your pa will see you mah'd 'fore the sun goes down. It's about time, seein' as you collect no beaus around you, not like that Miss Cathleen. Nah uh, suh. An' you know you could, though it don't fit you to go swannin' 'round lakh."

"I'm sure Miss Cathleen has the highest of intentions, and you mean no disrespect."

Mammy frowned, "Now there yer pa comin' out! You cahn tell me yuh worship your ma', but there ain' no goin' back on what's in yuh blood - an' Irish blood - an' Scarlett, let me tell yuh, we goin' be late for this heah pahty as it is. Cah'iage out front."

Scarlett came downstairs, and met Careen and Suellen with nods towards that entry which showed to best pleasing nature, all that rose in her as much as she hoped them, that love of the land that was Tara, those rich furrowed red fields and fences that bridged and trees covering the path towards the other families known and bred.

"Caroline, if it isn't early to say," began Scarlett, as the carriage bounced along those rocks which otherwise upset the horse's hooves, "I do expect Mr Tarleton to pay you plenty of attention."

Careen turned with surprise to her sister.

"Caroline? Mister Tarleton? Whatever do you mean, dear sister?"

Suellen, who had been listening in, piped in with her piece, "Careen, you know our Scarlett means to take after Mother."

Scarlett fumed, and Careen paused, and Suellen smiled, "See?"

"Susan," ventured Scarlett, "I do say - "

"Oh, don't call me Susan," Suellen shook her head, "You know it's just to suggest that I'm not named for Mother, as you aren't - and who named me? Careen and I might - might as well just call you Katie."

Mammy intervened, "Girls, don't you go cah'ing on lakh dis. You know you young lah'dies shouldn't carry on dis way. It's no' po-lite."

The girls, simmering under Mammy's eye, continued to regard the landscape around them with fields and paths and trees overhanging, and birds darting out of sight amid the plains for miles to see.

Up ahead, the fields of Fairhill, the Tarleton estate came into view, with horses and fences.