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She
was
sick
of
all
this
nursing
.
This
very
day
she
would
tell
Mrs.
Merriwether
that
Ellen
had
written
her
to
come
home
for
a
visit
.
Much
good
this
did
her
,
for
that
worthy
matron
,
her
sleeves
rolled
up
,
her
stout
figure
swathed
in
a
large
apron
,
gave
her
one
sharp
look
and
said
:
"
Do
n't
let
me
hear
any
more
such
foolishness
,
Scarlett
Hamilton
.
I
'll
write
your
mother
today
and
tell
her
how
much
we
need
you
,
and
I
'm
sure
she
'll
understand
and
let
you
stay
.
Now
,
put
on
your
apron
and
trot
over
to
Dr.
Meade
.
He
needs
someone
to
help
with
the
dressings
.
"
"
Oh
,
God
,
"
thought
Scarlett
drearily
,
"
that
's
just
the
trouble
.
Mother
will
make
me
stay
here
and
I
shall
die
if
I
have
to
smell
these
stinks
any
longer
!
I
wish
I
was
an
old
lady
so
I
could
bully
the
young
ones
,
instead
of
getting
bullied
--
and
tell
old
cats
like
Mrs.
Merriwether
to
go
to
Halifax
!
"
Yes
,
she
was
sick
of
the
hospital
,
the
foul
smells
,
the
lice
,
the
aching
,
unwashed
bodies
.
If
there
had
ever
been
any
novelty
and
romance
about
nursing
,
that
had
worn
off
a
year
ago
.
Besides
,
these
men
wounded
in
the
retreat
were
not
so
attractive
as
the
earlier
ones
had
been
.
They
did
n't
show
the
slightest
interest
in
her
and
they
had
very
little
to
say
beyond
:
"
How
's
the
fightin
'
goin
'
?
What
's
Old
Joe
doin
'
now
?
Mighty
clever
fellow
,
Old
Joe
.
"
She
did
n't
think
Old
Joe
a
mighty
clever
fellow
.
All
he
had
done
was
let
the
Yankees
penetrate
eighty-eight
miles
into
Georgia
.
No
,
they
were
not
an
attractive
lot
.
Moreover
,
many
of
them
were
dying
,
dying
swiftly
,
silently
,
having
little
strength
left
to
combat
the
blood
poisoning
,
gangrene
,
typhoid
and
pneumonia
which
had
set
in
before
they
could
reach
Atlanta
and
a
doctor
.
The
day
was
hot
and
the
flies
came
in
the
open
windows
in
swarms
,
fat
lazy
flies
that
broke
the
spirits
of
the
men
as
pain
could
not
.
The
tide
of
smells
and
pain
rose
and
rose
about
her
.
Perspiration
soaked
through
her
freshly
starched
dress
as
she
followed
Dr.
Meade
about
,
a
basin
in
her
hand
.
Oh
,
the
nausea
of
standing
by
the
doctor
,
trying
not
to
vomit
when
his
bright
knife
cut
into
mortifying
flesh
!
And
oh
,
the
horror
of
hearing
the
screams
from
the
operating
ward
where
amputations
were
going
on
!
And
the
sick
,
helpless
sense
of
pity
at
the
sight
of
tense
,
white
faces
of
mangled
men
waiting
for
the
doctor
to
get
to
them
,
men
whose
ears
were
filled
with
screams
,
men
waiting
for
the
dreadful
words
:
"
I
'm
sorry
,
my
boy
,
but
that
hand
will
have
to
come
off
.
Yes
,
yes
,
I
know
;
but
look
,
see
those
red
streaks
?
It
'll
have
to
come
off
.
"
Chloroform
was
so
scarce
now
it
was
used
only
for
the
worst
amputations
and
opium
was
a
precious
thing
,
used
only
to
ease
the
dying
out
of
life
,
not
the
living
out
of
pain
.
There
was
no
quinine
and
no
iodine
at
all
.
Yes
,
Scarlett
was
sick
of
it
all
,
and
that
morning
she
wished
that
she
,
like
Melanie
,
had
the
excuse
of
pregnancy
to
offer
.
That
was
about
the
only
excuse
that
was
socially
acceptable
for
not
nursing
these
days
.
When
noon
came
,
she
put
off
her
apron
and
sneaked
away
from
the
hospital
while
Mrs.
Merriwether
was
busy
writing
a
letter
for
a
gangling
,
illiterate
mountaineer
.
Scarlett
felt
that
she
could
stand
it
no
longer
.
It
was
an
imposition
on
her
and
she
knew
that
when
the
wounded
came
in
on
the
noon
train
there
would
be
enough
work
to
keep
her
busy
until
night-fall
--
and
probably
without
anything
to
eat
.
She
went
hastily
up
the
two
short
blocks
to
Peachtree
Street
,
breathing
the
unfouled
air
in
as
deep
gulps
as
her
tightly
laced
corset
would
permit
.
She
was
standing
on
the
corner
,
uncertain
as
to
what
she
would
do
next
,
ashamed
to
go
home
to
Aunt
Pitty
's
but
determined
not
to
go
back
to
the
hospital
,
when
Rhett
Butler
drove
by
.
