Toliver's Secret by Esther Wood Brady Page A

for, but it made sense. It might be the tavern.
    When she came to the bend, she saw a group of horses tied to a long hitching post. A light from a small lantern in a window shone on a sign over the doorway.
    It was the picture of a smiling fox. The Jolly Fox Tavern at last! She had found it.
    Ellen pushed open the door and stumbled into a room that seemed to be bouncing with laughter and singing. It smelled of hot food and old ale and muddy boots. Candles on the tables and a crackling fire in a huge fireplace made the room glow.
    Sprawled on chairs around the long tables were many red-coated officers. They smoked their white pipes, banged their mugs on the bare boards and joked with two nimble waitresses in white caps and long green aprons.
    Beside the fireplace at the far end of the room Ellen saw a bar with slats of wood from counter to ceiling. She had never been in a tavern before and had never seen a little room like this. It looked like a cage. The shelves at the back were filled with wine bottles and mugs and pewter tankards. White clay tobaccopipes hung from the rafters overhead, waiting to be borrowed by the customers.
    Inside the cage a plump little woman was drawing ale from a keg into a row of mugs. She, too, wore a long green apron. And in her ears were gold earrings that sparkled when she turned her head in time to the tune she was whistling. A small British flag was stuck jauntily in her white topknot. “Is this Mistress Shannon?” Ellen wondered.
    She ran up to her and asked cautiously, “May I speak to Mr. Shannon?”
    The little white-haired woman pushed four mugs along the counter and called to a waitress, “Don’t keep the gentlemen waiting.” Then she turned to Ellen. “What’s your pleasure, sir?” She threw back her head and started to laugh. “You’re about as small as they come,” she chuckled.
    â€œMay I see Mr. Shannon?” Ellen asked again. She was impatient because the woman was so slow. Now that she was here she wanted to thrust the bread into Mr. Shannon’s hands. Who was this woman with the British flag in her white hair?
    The woman started singing in a loud voice as she wiped her hands on the towel at her waist. Her eyes darted quickly about the room as she leaned forwardand put her head through the gateway of her cage. “Mr. Shannon’s not here,” she said.
    â€œNot here!” Ellen was filled with dismay.
    â€œHe has gone to the country to find a few kegs of ale.”
    â€œGone!” cried Ellen in a voice that was sharp and frightened. What did she mean, gone? Grandfather said he would be here! Waiting for her!
    â€œWhen will he be back?” she asked desperately.
    The woman was banging mugs on the counter and making a great clatter with some dishes. “In a day or two. No telling when.” She seemed to be looking past Ellen at the soldiers in the room.
    â€œI have come a long way—” Ellen began. But the woman’s loud singing drowned out her words.
    When she could interrupt her, Ellen pleaded, “—and I must find him—now. Can you help me?”
    â€œHe’s gone to the country,” the woman said again in a very loud voice, “to find some more ale for these thirsty men. No telling which way he went.”
    Then she leaned across the counter and whispered, “Just sit by the fire, boy.” Her face was filled with friendly concern. “Just close your eyes and don’t talk to anyone at all. I’m Mr. Shannon’s wife.”
    And with that she went back to the keg of ale,picking up the song the soldiers were singing, and shouting it as lustily as they. The little flag fluttered with each toss of her head.
    Ellen wanted to give Mistress Shannon the loaf of bread, and be done with it. But she remembered her grandfathers warning. “Give the bread to no one but Mr. Shannon.”
    Two redcoats moved their outstretched legs to make way for her as she