Читать книгу Aunt Olive in Bohemia онлайн

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The woman spoke to the driver, then got into the cab. He climbed to the box, flicked his whip, turned the horse’s head, and drove once again through the gate.

The children scuttled to one side, and the cab drove up the street.

Its occupant sat upright within it, clutching tightly at the umbrella and the black satin bag. Little thrills of happiness were running through her. The May wind blowing through the window fanned her face, bringing with it great puffs of scent from the hawthorn bushes. Sunshine sparkled on the roofs of the houses, birds were singing in the gardens past which she drove. It was a day alive with gladness, warm with the breath of spring, fresh with the sense of youth. And the woman within the cab, whose heart, in spite of her sixty years, was as young as the heart of a child, participated in the gladness.

She watched the people in the streets walking leisurely in the sunshine. She saw the shops with the tradesmen standing idle in the doorways. At the fishmonger’s only there was a little air of bustle, where a maid in a neat print had run in to buy a couple of soles for lunch.