“Gracious, no, Wade! Don’t be a silly child,” and then, relenting: “Dr. Meade has just brought her a nice little baby, a sweet little sister for you to play with, and if you are real good you can see her tonight. Now, run out and play and don’t make any noise.”
Wade slipped into the quiet dining room, his small and insecure world tottering. Was there no place for a worried little seven-year-old boy on this sunshiny day when the grown-ups acted so curiously? He sat down on the window still in the alcove and nibbled a bit of the elephant’s ear which grew in a box in the sun. It was so peppery that it stung his eyes to tears and he began to cry. Mother was probably dying, nobody paid him any heed and one and all, they rushed about because of a new baby — a girl baby. Wade had little interest in babies, still less in girls. The only little girl he knew intimately was Ella and, so far, she had done nothing to command his respect or liking.
After a long interval Dr. Meade and Uncle Rhett came down the stairs and stood talking in the hall in low voices. After the door shut behind the doctor, Uncle Rhett came swiftly into the dining room and poured himself a large drink from the decanter before he saw Wade. Wade shrank back, expecting to be told again that he was naughty and must return to Aunt Pitty’s, but instead, Uncle Rhett smiled. Wade had never seen him smile like that or look so happy and, encouraged, he leaped from the sill and ran to him.
“You’ve got a sister,” said Rhett, squeezing him. “By God, the most beautiful baby you ever saw! Now, why are you crying?”
“Mother —”
“Your mother’s eating a great big dinner, chicken and rice and gravy and coffee, and we’re going to make her some ice cream in a little while and you can have two plates if you want them. And I’ll show you your sister too.”
Weak with relief, Wade tried to be polite about his new sister but failed. Everyone was interested in this girl. No one cared anything about him any more, not even Aunt Melly or Uncle Rhett.
“Uncle Rhett,” he began, “do people like girls better than boys?”
Rhett set down his glass and looked sharply into the small face and instant comprehension came into his eyes.
“No, I can’t say they do,” he answered seriously, as though giving the matter due thought. “It’s just that girls are more trouble than boys and people are apt to worry more about troublesome people than those who aren’t.”
“Mammy just said boys were troublesome.”
“Well, Mammy was upset. She didn’t mean it.”
“Uncle Rhett, wouldn’t you rather have had a little boy than a little girl?” questioned Wade hopefully.
“No,” answered Rhett swiftly and, seeing the boy’s face fall, he continued: “Now, why should I want a boy when I’ve already got one?”
“You have?” cried Wade, his month falling open at this information. “Where is he?”
“Right here,” answered Rhett and, picking the child up, drew him to his knee. “You are boy enough for me, son.”
For a moment, the security and happiness of being wanted was so great that Wade almost cried again. His throat worked and he ducked his head against Rhett’s waistcoat.
“You are my boy, aren’t you?”
“Can you be — well, two men’s boy?” questioned Wade, loyalty to the father he had never known struggling with love for the man who held him so understandingly.
“Yes,” said Rhett firmly. “Just like you can be your mother’s boy and Aunt Melly’s, too.”
Wade digested this statement. It made sense to him and he smiled and wriggled against Rhett’s arm shyly.
“You understand little boys, don’t you, Uncle Rhett?”
Rhett’s dark face fell into its old harsh lines and his lip twisted.
“Yes,” he said bitterly, “I understand little boys.”
For a moment, fear came back to Wade, fear and a sudden sense of jealousy. Uncle Rhett was not thinking of him but of some one else.
“You haven’t got any other —” began Wade and then Rhett set him on his feet.
“I’m going to have a drink and so are you, Wade, your first drink, a toast to your new sister.”
“You haven’t got any other —” began Wade and then seeing Rhett reach for the decanter of claret, the excitement at being included in this grown-up ceremony diverted him.
“Oh, I can’t, Uncle Rhett! I promised Aunt Melly I wouldn’t drink till I graduated from the university and she’s going to give me a watch, if I don’t.
“And I’ll give you a chain for it — this one I’m wearing now, if you want it,” said Rhett and he was smiling again. “Aunt Melly’s quite right But she was talking about spirits, not wine. You must learn to drink, wine like a gentleman, son, and there’s no time like the present to learn.”
Skillfully, he diluted the claret with water from the carafe until the liquid was barely pink and handed the glass to Wade. At that moment, Mammy entered the dining room. She had changed to her best Sunday black and her apron and head rag were fresh and crisp. As she waddled, she switched herself and from her skirts came the whisper and rustle of silk. The worried look had gone from her face and her almost toothless gums showed in a wide smile.
“Burfday gif, Mist’ Rhett!” she said.
Wade stopped with his glass at his lips. He knew Mammy had never liked his stepfather. He had never heard her call him anything except “Cap’n Butler,” and her conduct toward him had been dignified but cold. And here she was beaming and sidling and calling him “Mist’ Rhett!” What a topsy-turvy day!
“You’d rather have rum than claret, I suppose,” said Rhett, reaching into the cellaret and producing a squat bottle. “She is a beautiful baby, isn’t she, Mammy?”
“She sho is,” answered Mammy, smacking her lips as she took the glass.
“Did you ever see a prettier one?”
“Well, suh, Miss Scarlett wuz mout nigh as pretty w’en she come but not quite.”
“Have another glass, Mammy. And Mammy,” his tone was stern but his eyes twinkled, “what’s that rustling noise I hear?”
“Lawd, Mist’ Rhett, dat ain’ nuthin’ but mah red silk petticoat!” Mammy giggled and switched till her huge bulk shook.
“Nothing but your petticoat! I don’t believe it. You sound like a peck of dried leaves rubbing together. Let me see. Pull up your skirt.”
“Mist’ Rhett, you is bad! Yeah-O, Lawd!”
Mammy gave a little shriek and retreated and from a distance of a yard, modestly elevated her dress a few inches and showed the ruffle of a red taffeta petticoat.
“You took long enough about wearing it,” grumbled Rhett but his black eyes laughed and danced.
“Yassuh, too long.”
Then Rhett said something that Wade did not understand.
“No more mule in horse harness?”
“Mist’ Rhett, Miss Scarlett wuz bad ter tell you dat! You ain’ holin’ dat again’ dis ole nigger?”
“No. I’m not holding it. I just wanted to know. Have another drink, Mammy. Have the whole bottle. Drink up, Wade! Give us a toast.”
To Sissy,” cried Wade and gulped the liquid down. Choking he began to cough and hiccough and the other two laughed and beat him on the back.
From the moment his daughter was born, Rhett’s conduct was puzzling to all observers and he upset many settled notions about himself, notions which both the town and Scarlett were loath to surrender. Whoever would have thought that he of all people would be so shamelessly, so openly proud of fatherhood? Especially in view of the embarrassing circumstance that his first-born was a girl and not a boy.
The novelty of fatherhood did not wear off. This caused some secret envy among women whose husbands took offspring for granted, long before the children were christened. He buttonholed people on the street and related details of his child’s miraculous progress without even prefacing his remarks with the hypocritical but polite: “I know everyone thinks their own child is smart but —” He thought his daughter marvelous, not to be compared with lesser brats, and he did not care who knew it. When the new nurse permitted the baby to suck a bit of fat pork, thereby bringing on the first attack of colic, Rhett’s conduct sent seasoned fathers and mothers into gales of laughter. He hurriedly summoned Dr. Meade and two other doctors, and with difficulty he was restrained from beating the unfortunate nurse with his crop. The nurse was discharged and thereafter followed a series of nurses who remained, at the most, a week. None of them was good enough to satisfy the exacting requirements Rhett laid down.
Mammy likewise viewed with displeasure the nurses that came and went, for she was jealous of any strange negro and saw no reason why she could not care for the baby and Wade and Ella, too. But Mammy was showing her age and rheumatism was slowing her lumbering tread. Rhett lacked the courage to cite these reasons for employing another nurse. He told her instead that a man of his position could not afford to have only one nurse. It did not look well. He would hire two others to do the drudgery and leave her as Mammy-in-chief. This Mammy understood very well. More servants were a credit to her position as well as Rhett’s. But she would not, she told him firmly, have any trashy free issue niggers in her nursery. So Rhett sent to Tara for Prissy. He knew her shortcomings but, after all, she was a family darky. And Uncle Peter produced a great-niece named Lou who had belonged to one of Miss Pitty’s Burr cousins.
Even before Scarlett was able to be about again, she noticed Rhett’s pre-occupation with the baby and was somewhat nettled and embarrassed at his pride in her in front of callers. It was all very well for a man to love his child but she felt there was something unmanly in the display of such love. He should be offhand and careless, as other men were.
“You are making a fool of yourself,” she said irritably, “and I don’t see why.”
“No? Well, you wouldn’t. The reason is that she’s the first person who’s ever belonged utterly to me.”
“She belongs to me, too!”
“No, you have two other children. She’s mine.”
“Great balls of fire!” said Scarlett. “I had the baby, didn’t I? Besides, honey, I belong to you.”
Rhett looked at her over the black head of the child and smiled oddly.
“Do you, my dear?”
Only the entrance of Melanie stopped one of those swift hot quarrels which seemed to spring up so easily between them these days. Scarlett swallowed her wrath and watched Melanie take the baby. The name agreed upon for the child was Eugenic Victoria, but that afternoon Melanie unwittingly bestowed a name that clung, even as “Pittypat” had blotted out all memory of Sarah Jane.
Rhett leaning over the child had said: “Her eyes are going to be pea green.”
“Indeed they are not,” cried Melanie indignantly, forgetting that Scarlett’s eyes were almost that shade. “They are going to be blue, like Mr. O’Hara’s eyes, as blue as — as blue as the bonnie blue flag.”
“Bonnie Blue Butler,” laughed Rhett, taking the child from her and peering more closely into the small eyes. And Bonnie she became until even her parents did not recall that she had been named for two queens.