The public carriage drove in an orderly manner on the street. The hunched carriage driver was sitting on a seat level with the horse's ears, holding a corncob pipe in his mouth and holding the reins with one hand. He narrowed his narrow eyes and habitually scanned the crowd flowing around him.
The time spent in the carriage was hollow and tedious, and he often needed something to do to keep from falling asleep:
Sometimes I am thinking about some unrealistic ideas in my mind; sometimes I am throwing my thoughts into the sky like a fishing rod, waiting for it to fall at a certain moment; sometimes I am looking around calmly like now.
Years of observation have given the carriage driver a pair of keen eyes. Sometimes he can tell at a glance who has lost money in business, who has won big prizes by betting on horses, whose husband and wife are not getting along, and who has been annoyed by his boss. Then he will make up a short story for others based on these clues, and then enjoy himself from it. .
The girl waiting in front of her has a pair of emerald green eyes, like early spring buds that have not been polluted by the world. The light blue clothes have no lace or decoration, and are paired with a beige hat with a narrow brim and a white feather on the edge.
Although her face is dotted with some freckles, it unexpectedly makes her beauty look more real and lovely. Even wearing simple clothes, the elegance from the inside out in every gesture is still as hard to ignore as the blazing sun piercing the tree shades.
A child born in spring. The driver commented in his heart that most children struggle to survive in the cold winter of the world, but a very few lucky ones will be born in the season when the earth returns to spring and flowers bloom.
Ordinary passengers would only stare in the direction of the carriage, but she looked left and right from time to time, as if waiting for someone.
She didn't look like she could ride a bus.
There was no one else on the platform, and the driver did not ask the horses to slow down. At the end of the street, there will probably be a handsome young man holding flowers hurriedly coming.
However, to his surprise, the lady still got on the carriage. The pace was so light and nimble that the driver barely felt the vibrations of the carriage as he got on.
"Good afternoon, miss. Where are you going?"
asked the conductor behind him, who seemed to be carved from the same mold as him.
"I'm going to Astrid Street." The chestnut-haired girl replied.
"Okay, I'll charge you a penny."
As he said this, the conductor had already pinched the ticket with his fingers, waiting to collect the money, tear it off and hand it to the passenger.
"Uh, what?"
The chestnut-haired girl was stunned for a moment, then whispered in confusion:
"I thought public carriages were free..."
Laughter in twos and threes came from the seats nearby. Even his brother the conductor laughed angrily and said half-jokingly:
"Yeah, you don't have to pay if your last name is Oakland."
The crowd suddenly burst into laughter. The chestnut-haired girl was awkwardly silent for a few seconds, and then took out a shiny coin from her cuff:
"Sorry, this is my first time taking a bus. I'll give you money -"
I saw the golden light in the girl's hand, which was a gold coin with a face value of one pound.
"Is this some kind of prank?" The conductor finally became a little impatient. Such large denominations rarely circulated on the lower floors. If you want to change, you may have to use a bag to put money in. "Since you are so rich, why not Hire a carriage?"
"I only have this...can I make it up next time? I can swear to the Holy Spirit."
"Credit?! Have you ever heard of any bus that allows credit? What about swearing... If you really can't afford the ticket, then please——"
Seeing that his brother wanted to say something else, the carriage driver quickly stopped him:
"Forget it Johnny, let her ride in the car."
"Really?" The conductor stuck his head out and confirmed with him in a low voice, "If we are all like her, how can we do business?"
"Just think of it as paying a penny to hear a joke." The driver advised, "It's better to do less than to do more. It's not worth it for a penny."
"Okay, I understand."
The conductor said, shaking his head and turning around. Although he didn't understand it, he still did it:
"Okay...but then again, it's not polite to kick a lady out of the car like that. Let's forget it this time. Please find a seat and sit down first."
"Thanks."
The girl nodded gratefully to him and sat down quietly on the corner seat like a cat.
Everything returned to its usual dullness. She did not say another word until she reached Astrid Street.
"This is Astrid Street."
The carriage drove to the platform, and the driver pulled the reins and slowed down the carriage: "...By the way, remember to bring change with you next time you go out, miss."
The girl who arrived at the station did not leave in a hurry, but took two quick steps and stretched out her right palm towards the driver:
"Thank you, Mr. Driver, you are a good man."
The driver failed to understand the meaning of this action. It wasn't until the girl followed the carriage for several steps that he realized that she wanted to shake hands with him.
Shake hands? Shake my hand?
This was the first time he had seen someone take the initiative to shake hands with the carriage driver. People shook hands with colleagues, friends, and even enemies, but no one ever shook hands with a carriage driver.
Out of some curiosity, the carriage driver still took off his gloves, turned sideways and gently held the hand.
That hand was not as soft and boneless as he imagined, and even had calluses that a lady should not have. It was more like a piece of hot steel wrapped in silk, as if hot sincerity was radiating from it in an endless stream.
"Thank you." The girl thanked her again. Then she let go of her hand and disappeared behind the carriage.
"What's wrong with this guy?" The conductor brother stuck his head out again.
“The Holy Spirit is above, only God knows.”
The driver took the pipe over, knocked on the shaft of the car, poured out the ashes, and wanted to pick up another handful of tobacco. But he felt something hard and warm from the tobacco pouch at his waist——
A small gold coin of £1 face value.
