After a short pause, Mrs. Bierbauer remarked, You're late this mornin', Mrs. Fox.
I was puttin' the bread to set. Mrs. Fox was apologetic. She, too, had seated herself, and was rocking valiantly.
Ahem, Mrs. Bierbauer disapproved. Funny day to bake.
The bread give out unexpected. We ate so much this week. Mr. Fox's been home almost every night. He's death on vittles.
There fell another silence during which Trilby crawled out from his bedroom under the porch, walked up the steps with his tail erect, and rubbed his slanting, arched back against Mrs. Bierbauer's leg.
Where've you been? You bad cat! Didn't you hear me callin' you?
I don't think it'll rain again, Mrs. Fox put forward timidly.
Not likely. Mrs. Bierbauer continued to rock and chew; her expression was beatific, like that of a washwoman who had just been notified of her canonization.
Mrs. Fox regarded her with suspicion. You got somethin' on your mind, I jes' know, Mrs. Bierbauer, she challenged her neighbour.
O, I don't know. What makes you think so?
I jes' know you got somethin' on your mind. You hadn't orter tease me.
