16 The Woman
‘Quick!’ said Mr Fox. ‘Hide!’ He and Badger¹ and the Smallest Fox jumped up on to a shelf andcrouched behind a row of big cider jars. Peering around the jars, they saw a huge woman comingdown into the cellar. At the foot of the steps, the woman paused, looking to right and left. Then sheturned and headed straight for the place where Mr Fox and Badger and the Smallest Fox were hiding.
She stopped right in front of them. The only thing between her and them was a row of cider jars. Shewas so close, Mr Fox could hear the sound of her breathing. Peeping through the crack between twobottles, he noticed that she carried a big rolling-pin in one hand.
‘How many will he want this time, Mrs Bean?’ the woman shouted. And from the top of the stepsthe other voice called back, ‘Bring up two or three jars.’
‘He drank four yesterday, Mrs Bean.’
‘Yes, but he won’t want that many today because he’s not going to be up there more than a fewhours longer. He says the fox is bound to make a run for it this morning. It can’t possibly stay downthat hole another day without food.’
The woman in the cellar reached out and lifted a jar of cider from the shelf. The jar she took wasnext but one to the jar behind which Mr Fox was crouching².
‘I’ll be glad when the rotten brute³ is killed and strung up on the front porch,’ she called out. ‘Andby the way, Mrs Bean, your husband promised I could have the tail as a souvenir.’
‘The tail’s been all shot to pieces,’ said the voice from upstairs. ‘Didn’t you know that?’
‘You mean it’s ruined?’
‘Of course it’s ruined. They shot the tail but missed the fox.’
‘Oh heck!’ said the big woman. ‘I did so want that tail!’
‘You can have the head instead, Mabel. You can get it stuffed and hang it on your bedroom wall.
Hurry up now with that cider!’
‘Yes, Ma’am, I’m coming,’ said the big woman, and she took a second jar from the shelf.
If she takes one more, she’ll see us , thought Mr Fox. He could feel the Smallest Fox’s bodypressed tightly against his own, quivering with excitement.
‘Will two be enough, Mrs Bean, or shall I take three?’
‘My goodness, Mabel, I don’t care so long as you get a move on!’
‘Then two it is,’ said the huge woman, speaking to herself now. ‘He drinks too much anyway.’

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