The ghost of Phillippe Robillard wandered through the upper hall of Rhett Butler's house dispiritedly. It was so quiet here. He heard the skirmish of little feet, and a tiny black haired girl ran up to him.

"Hey, Unca Phil!"

Phillippe couldn't help but smile at the spirit of Bonnie Blue Butler, Rhett Butler's deceased daughter. Still and forever four years old, she could at least see and tease Phillippe, who had finally, after a decade given up on trying to convince the child that his name was pronounced Feel-eep, not Fill-Ipp. And he'd have thrashed anyone in living years who called him "Phil". But now, of course it didn't really matter.

"Hello, child." Phillippe smiled down at Bonnie. "Have you been in your Papa's study again?" She spent way too much time in there. Wasn't there a celestial playground somewhere?

"Papa is so sad, Unca Phil. He loves Mama so much, but she's not…" Bonnie's little eyebrows moved together in a perplexed frown.

No baby, you'll never complete the thought, but your Mama isn't worth it, although certainly her Mama was. Phillippe thought about his long lost Ellen. Why wasn't she with him now? Because of course she'd gone up to Heaven. They didn't much want him.

And why didn't they want him down below? Probably because the Devil had over filled his quota of fellows like Phillippe. That must be it.

It was such a shame…Miss Melanie Wilkes's spirit had also risen Above, and what a shame that Bonnie didn't have Melly's ghost as a comforter. With all the fun Bonnie might have as a spirit, flying through walls, and listening in on private conversations, it was sad that her only real company was Phillippe, for Mammy's soul had also arisen.

Why hadn't Bonnie's soul gone up? What would be so naughty in a baby like Bonnie that she wouldn't be welcomed Above…and that she'd have to haunt this dismal house?

It was an enigma, Phillippe reflected as he looked down at the little dark head. Bonnie, of course was still clad in the riding outfit that she'd been wearing when the pony had thrown her and broken her neck.

"Unca Phil?"

"Yes, Bonnie?"

"Why don't Papa find a new lady friend?" Bonnie's huge blue eyes asked a question that Phillippe would be at a loss to answer. True, Rhett probably had dozens of "lady friends" out there, but Bonnie's spirit only haunted the house, and none of the "lady friends" was close enough to her Papa to earn admittance into the Big House.

"He cries, you know, Unca Phil. It makes me real sad."

Phillippe didn't believe this. Really? Rhett Butler, crying? He'd sooner suspect it of Satan. But of course Phillippe didn't haunt Rhett as closely as little Bonnie did. God damn Scarlett for being such a difficult and unpleasant woman.

Now, the flesh-and-blood Rhett Butler opened the door to his little office and emerged into the hallway. Crossing the Persian rug, Rhett poured himself a glass from the claret decanter, sipped it and sighed.

"Don't be sad, Papa!" cried Bonnie, but of course Rhett didn't hear her.

There was a sound from below of the big front door opening and shutting. Then there were footsteps on the stairs, and Scarlett came into the hallway.

"Drinking as always." Her voice was cold as she saw Rhett with the glass in hand.

"It soothes one in the curious inexplicable state of marriage with one with your nature, Mrs. Butler." Rhett held the glass up in a toast and sipped.

"I don't know if you heard…Ella is planning to marry some Yankee postmaster in Jonesboro. They aren't even leaving the area, there's no shame. Suellen says if Ella wants, they can live on the Tara property."

"Scarlett, the war's over. It's been over a long time. If he's a nice young man, leave Ella alone." Rhett sipped from the glass of wine.

Bonnie looked up at Phillippe. "Papa shouldn't drink so much, Unca Phil."

"Oh, I envy him." Phillippe said sadly. "It's been seventy-three years since I had wine, and I miss it every day, Bonnie."

"I don't like it." Bonnie said forcefully, and she rose up, and floated to where the decanter was sitting on a table, and kicked it onto the Persian rug, where it stained.

"Good God, Rhett!" Scarlett said, horrified, "You must fix the windows in this house, the wind is destroying things."

Rhett shook his head. "It's rather dense outside. I wasn't aware of a wind, but I'll have Uncle Peter come and look at the windows. Perhaps they need re-caulking."

Rhett bent down to pick up the now almost empty decanter.

Scarlett turned and walked into her bedroom.

Rhett followed, and the ghosts trailed after.

"I just don't know what's wrong with this family." Scarlett said. "Wade has a chance to marry a lovely young woman, from a prosperous home, and he doesn't want to. Ella could be mistress of Alex Fontaine's plantation—"

"It's not a plantation, Scarlett." Rhett said, with a touch of irritation in his voice. "It's just a little farm. And perhaps Ella has not inherited your desire to marry your problems away."

Scarlett spun and stared at Rhett. "How dare you say that? I don't marry—"

Rhett laughed. "You married that idiot Charles Hamilton because you wanted to teach Ashley—and poor homely Honey Wilkes a lesson. You married Frank to save Tara, and me for even more money…more go-to hell, if you get my drift."

"I at least have had advantages in my plans…there's not one bit of evidence that Ella—that Yankee boy probably makes fifty dollars a year—maybe seventy-five!"

"But Ella will be happy. I can see the desire to be happy. As I said, I loved you once."

"And how do you show it? By trying to control me—keeping me from having my mills fully taken care of—"

"Because of course you hired Ashley Wilkes, who turned out to be a worthless embezzler. Worthless, I tell you!" Rhett laughed, but there wasn't much mirth in it, Phillippe noted.

Rhett exited the bedroom, Bonnie and Phillippe following him as far as the hallway. Going downstairs, Rhett whistled in a determinedly cheerful way. The door slammed.

As if reading Phillippe's earlier thoughts, Bonnie said:

"I can't go Above until my Papa is a happy man."

You may be here a while, Bonnie, Phillippe thought, but he just patted the child's head, and then, as Scarlett began crying in the bedroom, the two ghosts faded away.