Beatrice Tarleton was a busy woman, having on her hands not only a large cotton plantation, a hundred negroes and eight children, but the largest horse-breeding farm in the state as well. She was hottempered and easily plagued by the frequent scrapes of her four sons, and while no one was permitted to whip a horse or a slave, she felt that a lick now and then didn't do the boys any harm.
"Of course she won't hit Boyd. She never did beat Boyd much because he's the oldest and besides he's the runt of the litter," said Stuart, proud of his six feet two."That's why we left him at home to explain things to her.
"Why?"
"The war, goose! The war's going to start any day, and you don't suppose any of us would stay in college with a war going on, do you?"
"You know there isn't going to be any war," said Scarlett, bored."It's all just talk. Why, Ashley Wilkes and his father told Pa just last week that our commissioners in Washington would come to-to-an-amicable agreement with Mr. Lincoln about the Confederacy. And anyway, the Yankees are too scared of us to fight. There won't be any war, and I'm tired of hearing about it."
"Not going to be any war!"
