Bang bang bang!
The heavy door panel sounded with intense knocking.
In the wooden cabin, Sherman, who was sleeping peacefully under a worn quilt, was instantly awakened, rubbed his eyes, and sleepily shouted.
"Coming."
In the middle of the month of Revival, the weather was still somewhat cold.
After putting on his tattered clothes, Sherman picked up the leather jacket serving as a second quilt covering the cotton blanket, put it on, and then opened the wooden door.
Outside the door, old Roger leaned against the carriage, holding a whip in one hand and a tobacco pipe in the other.
"Hurry up, it's getting late, you'll get scolded if you're late."
"I know."
Sherman closed the wooden door, hurriedly climbed onto the carriage, but his expression was not hurried at all.
Roger glanced at him but said no more, he whipped forcefully, and the old horse grunted, pulling the carriage forward slowly.
