minmarn/Gone_with_the_wind · Datasets at Hugging Face

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thumb mighty quick."

"Quinine! I would never have thought of it! I can't thank you
enough, Mrs. Merriwether. It was worrying me."

He gave her a smile, so pleasant, so grateful that Mrs. Merriwether
stood uncertainly for a moment. But as she told him good-by she
was smiling too. She hated to admit to Mrs. Elsing that she had
misjudged the man but she was an honest person and she said there
had to be something good about a man who loved his child. What a
pity Scarlett took no interest in so pretty a creature as Bonnie!
There was something pathetic about a man trying to raise a little
girl all by himself! Rhett knew very well the pathos of the
spectacle, and if it blackened Scarlett's reputation he did not
care.

From the time the child could walk he took her about with him
constantly, in the carriage or in front of his saddle. When he
came home from the bank in the afternoon, he took her walking down
Peachtree Street, holding her hand, slowing his long strides to her
toddling steps, patiently answering her thousand questions. People
were always in their front yards or on their porches at sunset and,
as Bonnie was such a friendly, pretty child, with her tangle of
black curls and her bright blue eyes, few could resist talking to
her. Rhett never presumed on these conversations but stood by,
exuding fatherly pride and gratification at the notice taken of his
daughter.

Atlanta had a long memory and was suspicious and slow to change.
Times were hard and feeling was bitter against anyone who had had
anything to do with Bullock and his crowd. But Bonnie had the
combined charm of Scarlett and Rhett at their best and she was the
small opening wedge Rhett drove into the wall of Atlanta's
coldness.



Bonnie grew rapidly and every day it became more evident that
Gerald O'Hara had been her grandfather. She had short sturdy legs
and wide eyes of Irish blue and a small square jaw that went with a
determination to have her own way. She had Gerald's sudden temper
to which she gave vent in screaming tantrums that were forgotten as
soon as her wishes were gratified. And as long as her father was
near her, they were always gratified hastily. He spoiled her
despite all the efforts of Mammy and Scarlett, for in all things
she pleased him, except one. And that was her fear of the dark.

Until she was two years old she went to sleep readily in the
nursery she shared with Wade and Ella. Then, for no apparent
reason, she began to sob whenever Mammy waddled out of the room,
carrying the lamp. From this she progressed to wakening in the
late night hours, screaming with terror, frightening the other two
children and alarming the house. Once Dr. Meade had to be called
and Rhett was short with him when he diagnosed only bad dreams.
All anyone could get from her was one word, "Dark."

Scarlett was inclined to be irritated with the child and favored a
spanking. She would not humor her by leaving a lamp burning in the
nursery, for then Wade and Ella would be unable to sleep. Rhett,
worried but gentle, attempting to extract further information from
his daughter, said coldly that if any spanking were done, he would
do it personally and to Scarlett.

The upshot of the situation was that Bonnie was removed from the
nursery to the room Rhett now occupied alone. Her small bed was
placed beside his large one and a shaded lamp burned on the table
all night long. The town buzzed when this story got about.
Somehow, there was something indelicate about a girl child sleeping
in her father's room, even though the girl was only two years old.
Scarlett suffered from this gossip in two ways. First, it proved
indubitably that she and her husband occupied separate rooms, in
itself a shocking enough state of affairs. Second, everyone
thought that if the child was afraid to sleep alone, her place was
with her mother. And Scarlett did not feel equal to explaining
that she could not sleep in a lighted room nor would Rhett permit
the child to sleep with her.

"You'd never wake up unless she screamed and then you'd probably
slap her," he said shortly.

Scarlett was annoyed at the weight he attached to Bonnie's night
terrors but she thought she could eventually remedy the state of
affairs and transfer the child back to the nursery. All children
were afraid of the dark and the only cure was firmness. Rhett was
just being perverse in the matter, making her appear a poor mother,
just to pay her back for banishing him from her room.

He had never put foot in her room or even rattled the door knob
since the night she told him she did not want any more children.
Thereafter and until he began staying at home on account of
Bonnie's fears, he had been absent from the supper table more often
than he had been present. Sometimes he had stayed out all night
and Scarlett, lying awake behind her locked door, hearing the clock
count off the early morning hours, wondered where he was. She
remembered: "There are other beds, my dear!" Though the thought
made her writhe, there was nothing she could do about it. There
was nothing she could say that would not precipitate a scene in
which he would be sure to remark upon her locked door and the
probable connection Ashley had with it. Yes, his foolishness about
Bonnie sleeping in a lighted room--in his lighted room--was just a

thumb mighty quick."

"Quinine! I would never have thought of it! I can't thank you

enough, Mrs. Merriwether. It was worrying me."

He gave her a smile, so pleasant, so grateful that Mrs. Merriwether

stood uncertainly for a moment. But as she told him good-by she

was smiling too. She hated to admit to Mrs. Elsing that she had

misjudged the man but she was an honest person and she said there

had to be something good about a man who loved his child. What a

pity Scarlett took no interest in so pretty a creature as Bonnie!

There was something pathetic about a man trying to raise a little

girl all by himself! Rhett knew very well the pathos of the

spectacle, and if it blackened Scarlett's reputation he did not

care.

From the time the child could walk he took her about with him

constantly, in the carriage or in front of his saddle. When he

came home from the bank in the afternoon, he took her walking down

Peachtree Street, holding her hand, slowing his long strides to her

toddling steps, patiently answering her thousand questions. People

were always in their front yards or on their porches at sunset and,

as Bonnie was such a friendly, pretty child, with her tangle of

black curls and her bright blue eyes, few could resist talking to

her. Rhett never presumed on these conversations but stood by,

exuding fatherly pride and gratification at the notice taken of his

daughter.

Atlanta had a long memory and was suspicious and slow to change.

Times were hard and feeling was bitter against anyone who had had

anything to do with Bullock and his crowd. But Bonnie had the

combined charm of Scarlett and Rhett at their best and she was the

small opening wedge Rhett drove into the wall of Atlanta's

coldness.

Bonnie grew rapidly and every day it became more evident that

Gerald O'Hara had been her grandfather. She had short sturdy legs

and wide eyes of Irish blue and a small square jaw that went with a

determination to have her own way. She had Gerald's sudden temper

to which she gave vent in screaming tantrums that were forgotten as

soon as her wishes were gratified. And as long as her father was

near her, they were always gratified hastily. He spoiled her

despite all the efforts of Mammy and Scarlett, for in all things

she pleased him, except one. And that was her fear of the dark.

Until she was two years old she went to sleep readily in the

nursery she shared with Wade and Ella. Then, for no apparent

reason, she began to sob whenever Mammy waddled out of the room,

carrying the lamp. From this she progressed to wakening in the

late night hours, screaming with terror, frightening the other two

children and alarming the house. Once Dr. Meade had to be called

and Rhett was short with him when he diagnosed only bad dreams.

All anyone could get from her was one word, "Dark."

Scarlett was inclined to be irritated with the child and favored a

spanking. She would not humor her by leaving a lamp burning in the

nursery, for then Wade and Ella would be unable to sleep. Rhett,

worried but gentle, attempting to extract further information from

his daughter, said coldly that if any spanking were done, he would

do it personally and to Scarlett.

The upshot of the situation was that Bonnie was removed from the

nursery to the room Rhett now occupied alone. Her small bed was

placed beside his large one and a shaded lamp burned on the table

all night long. The town buzzed when this story got about.

Somehow, there was something indelicate about a girl child sleeping

in her father's room, even though the girl was only two years old.

Scarlett suffered from this gossip in two ways. First, it proved

indubitably that she and her husband occupied separate rooms, in

itself a shocking enough state of affairs. Second, everyone

thought that if the child was afraid to sleep alone, her place was

with her mother. And Scarlett did not feel equal to explaining

that she could not sleep in a lighted room nor would Rhett permit

the child to sleep with her.

"You'd never wake up unless she screamed and then you'd probably

slap her," he said shortly.

Scarlett was annoyed at the weight he attached to Bonnie's night

terrors but she thought she could eventually remedy the state of

affairs and transfer the child back to the nursery. All children

were afraid of the dark and the only cure was firmness. Rhett was

just being perverse in the matter, making her appear a poor mother,

just to pay her back for banishing him from her room.

He had never put foot in her room or even rattled the door knob

since the night she told him she did not want any more children.

Thereafter and until he began staying at home on account of

Bonnie's fears, he had been absent from the supper table more often

than he had been present. Sometimes he had stayed out all night

and Scarlett, lying awake behind her locked door, hearing the clock

count off the early morning hours, wondered where he was. She

remembered: "There are other beds, my dear!" Though the thought

made her writhe, there was nothing she could do about it. There

was nothing she could say that would not precipitate a scene in

which he would be sure to remark upon her locked door and the

probable connection Ashley had with it. Yes, his foolishness about

Bonnie sleeping in a lighted room--in his lighted room--was just a