# The Tattooed Countess/Chapter 18

One morning late in September, a warm, fall rain, accompanied by a heavy wind, drove the leaves, already withering after the hot, dry summer, capering up and down the streets, shaking and twisting the branches of the trees, forcing the birds to seek shelter in the eaves under the roof-cornices. In such refuge, English sparrows, in profusion, sat in long, quarrelling rows, like silly curates chattering at a picnic.
Presently the wind died down and the rain-drops fell more slowly until, at last, they stopped falling altogether. Now the clouds rolled rapidly away, unveiling the sun, while on all the lawns hopped robins and blue jays, eager to peck up the angle-worms which had been washed to the surface.
Here, Trilby! she called. Puss, puss, kitty, kitty, kitty.
Trilby did not appear. He gave no evidence, indeed, that he had heard, although he was under the front porch.
The sun was high and its rays direct and burning. The pavement was drying rapidly; the side-walks were already dry. More birds descended to take advantage of the unexpected free lunch. 'Occasionally a robin obstructed the path of a belligerent sparrow. Then there were passages at wings, bill-blows, followed by shrill cries of anguish and precipitate flight on the part of the robin, for the sparrow was invariably the victor in these duels. Flies in swarms began to buzz about the porch. Mrs. Bierbauer reached for her wire swatter.
Mrs. Bierbauer was in an expansive mood, of that there could be no doubt. Something had happened to please her. Hands on knees she continued to rock back and forth. Occasionally she chuckled. Then, like a cat, who has just disposed of half a pound of raw beef, she licked her chops with gusto. Presently she inserted her hand in the capacious pocket of her Mother Hubbard and drew forth a stick of spruce gum, which she began to chew rapturously. The rhythm of her chewing and the rhythm of her rocking, while strangely at variance, made a pleasing syncopation.
A moment later, her neighbour's screen-door was opened, and Mrs. Fox emerged, followed by Free Silver, wheezing and snorting. Damp weather always affected his asthma for the worse.
Good mornin', Mrs. Bierbauer.
Mornin', Mrs. Fox.
We've had quite a nice rain.
It'll be cooler now.
Fresher.
Yes.
​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.
​P'raps.
O, now tell it!
I don't know as 'twould interest you. Mrs. Bierbauer's manner was at variance with the sense of her announcement.
Go'way! Go'way! Mrs. Fox was driving off a strange dog who appeared to be about to dig up the geraniums set in a thin, scraggly row around the base-boards of the house. I wish she'd keep her dog to hum, she commented, as she again settled herself in her rocker.
Now, Mrs. Bierbauer, she pleaded, turning back to her neighbour, I know you got somethin' on your mind, an' you gotta tell me.
Mrs. Bierbauer appeared to be on the point of yielding. It was apparent, indeed, that in holding back her information she was tantalizing herself quite as much as she was her friend.
Eddie, she announced ominously, got back from Chicago last night.
I know, Mrs. Fox assented eagerly, I know. Go on! Go on!
An' he went away agin this mornin'.
He allus does that. Mrs. Fox was disgusted.
Yes, he got back last night. He was to Chicago. Mrs. Bierbauer appeared to be in no haste to divulge her secret.
Well?
If you'll stop interruptin' me, Mrs. Fox, Mrs. ​Bierbauer announced with some assumption ef dignity, p'raps I can tell you my story.
I'm listenin', Mrs. Bierbauer. No offence intended.
Mrs. Bierbauer went back to the beginning. Eddie got back from Chicago last night. . . . Mrs. Fox, intimidated, continued to rock, restraining her impatience as best she might. . . . He was in the Illinois Central Depot an' who d'ye think he saw gettin' on the New York train?
Who?
Give you three guesses.
Mrs. Townsend?
No! Mrs. Bierbauer was disgusted. She's allus goin' to New York. What'd that mean?
Fred Baker an' some girl?
O! you're way off. Not that he wouldn't. It's two, he saw, two, she added significantly, furnishing a clue.
Not Dr. Sinclair and Mrs. Wiltbank?
Mrs. Bierbauer threw up her hands with a gesture of despair. They've gone to Texas; you know that!
Well, I thought mebbe they'd come back. Mrs. Fox pondered. I jes' can't guess, she admitted at last.
Mrs. Bierbauer was now ready to expiode her bomb. Leaning towards her neighbour, she stared her straight in the eye, and shot it out: That Countess and that Johns dude.
​No!
I tell you yes. There's worse. Both of 'em had bags and she was leanin' on his arm.
No! Do tell!
I'm tellin' you. Fred was real close to 'em—they don't know him from Adam—an' he heard her callin' him Baby an' Dearie!
Well, well! the old hussy. Mrs. Fox was thoroughly contented with life.
She's old enough to be his gramma, sixty if she's a day!
So he didn't go to college. He's a slick one.
What'd I tell you all summer? When two people, male an' female, goes trampin' round the country all day there's allus somethin' in it. Where there's fire there's flame I allus sez. I knew they was sparkin'.
What'll his father do?
Shut up, I guess. He orter be glad to be rid o' the dude.
What'll Lou Poore do?
Same as afore. She ain't seen her sister here for twenty years. I guess it'll be about twenty more afore she dares show her face agin in these parts.
What'll Lennie Colman do?
This last query, apparently, was what Mrs. Bierbauer had been waiting for. Before replying, she smacked her lips. Serves her right, she said, for foolin' with children placed under her in the High ​School. She'd better be lookin' out for her father.
allus boozin' round saloons.
Mrs. Fox, too astonished to say more, opened her mouth in wide amazement. Mrs. Bierbauer, highly satisfied with the results of her disclosure, continued to rock and chew.
Presently, however, she began again. Do you know what I say? she demanded.
What's that? asked Mrs. Fox.
Good riddance to bad rubbidge. There's an undesirable element in this town and it's gettin' out, thank goodness. Partly one way, partly another. There's the Klondike . . .
If there's war with Spain, embroidered Mrs. Fox, exhilarated by the idea, that'd take a lot of 'em off.
Enough's goin' as it is. Mrs. Bierbauer frowned on those who improvised on her own themes. Mrs. Fox, she went on, this town's gettin' cleaned up. Iowa's comin' into her own. Look at the bumper corn crop. See what McKinley's done for the tariff. Look at the new water-works. They're goin' to start the new depot next month. The plans is ready now. The cedar blocks is bein' torn up on Main Street. Bricks is to be laid. 'lectricity's comin' in. Brother Eldridge got fifty converts at Waterloo last night. The bad element's goin' out. Let 'em go to New York and spend their boodle on Bradley-Martin balls. Let 'em swill up their Seeley dinners! Let 'em take in the prize fights at Carson City! Let 'em jubilee their Queen! Iowa's a pure, ​one hundred per cent American state, an' it's lookin' up!
The Parcæ rocked in silence for a time. Trilby, curled up in a ball at his mistress's feet, was purring. Free Silver continued to snore. Presently, Mrs. Bierbauer croaked softly to herself:
October 20, 1923
New York