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- Маргарет Митчелл
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- Стр. 677/927
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"
Well
,
here
's
a
quarter
.
You
buy
a
hat
from
one
of
those
shanty
darkies
and
meet
me
here
.
"
"
Yas
'm
.
"
His
face
glowed
with
relief
at
once
more
having
someone
to
tell
him
what
to
do
.
Scarlett
drove
on
thoughtfully
.
Will
would
certainly
welcome
a
good
field
hand
at
Tara
.
Pork
had
never
been
any
good
in
the
fields
and
never
would
be
any
good
.
With
Sam
on
the
place
,
Pork
could
come
to
Atlanta
and
join
Dilcey
as
she
had
promised
him
when
Gerald
died
.
When
she
reached
the
mill
the
sun
was
setting
and
it
was
later
than
she
cared
to
be
out
.
Johnnie
Gallegher
was
standing
in
the
doorway
of
the
miserable
shack
that
served
as
cook
room
for
the
little
lumber
camp
.
Sitting
on
a
log
in
front
of
the
slab-sided
shack
that
was
their
sleeping
quarters
were
four
of
the
five
convicts
Scarlett
had
apportioned
to
Johnnie
's
mill
.
Their
convict
uniforms
were
dirty
and
foul
with
sweat
,
shackles
clanked
between
their
ankles
when
they
moved
tiredly
,
and
there
was
an
air
of
apathy
and
despair
about
them
.
They
were
a
thin
,
unwholesome
lot
,
Scarlett
thought
,
peering
sharply
at
them
,
and
when
she
had
leased
them
,
so
short
a
time
before
,
they
were
an
upstanding
crew
.
They
did
not
even
raise
their
eyes
as
she
dismounted
from
the
buggy
but
Johnnie
turned
toward
her
,
carelessly
dragging
off
his
hat
.
His
little
brown
face
was
as
hard
as
a
nut
as
he
greeted
her
.
"
I
do
n't
like
the
look
of
the
men
,
"
she
said
abruptly
.
"
They
do
n't
look
well
.
Where
's
the
other
one
?
"
"
Says
he
's
sick
,
"
said
Johnnie
laconically
.
"
He
's
in
the
bunk
house
.
"
"
What
ails
him
?
"
"
Laziness
,
mostly
.
"
"
I
'll
go
see
him
.
"
