Conservation in Context
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Lost Nickel
The bus pulled up to the curb. I was ravenous. Getting out of school late promotes the appetite. The doors opened wheezily. I absently walked onto the first step after the little fellow in front of me. I stood there. So did the little five-year-old. Both hands simultaneously zipped open the two zipper pockets in his brown cardigan, and his thumbs and forefingers searched them. His hand traveled to his worn blue coat with the peculiar red stripe down the sleeves and then to the pockets of his brown knee pants. "I guess I've lost my carfare," he said calmly and stood aside to let me, still standing on the first step, pass. The traffic light turned red as he jumped out. The bus driver sat looking at him through the open doors. "What's the matter, son?" he asked. "I guess I've lost my carfare," the boy repeated. "I can't find my nickel." "Well, suppose you come in here while you look for it." The driver waited. leaning forward, for the boy to clamber up the two steep steps. "But what if I can't find it?" the curious young voice asked. "You look for it; and by the time we get to where you are going, you'll probably find it. I can't put you off the bus." The boy stopped searching and stood still. "Why not?" he asked. "How would you get home?" The driver stared straight ahead of him. "I could walk," came the immediate rejoinder. The driver smiled into the mirror at the rest of us in the bus who had all been grinning indulgently. We nodded approval. The boy had resumed his search. He buried his hands again in the deep pocket of his coat and left them there. "I can't understand it. I put it in my zipper pocket and had it zipped all the time." "Yes, I'd noticed that you had it zipped," agreed the driver. "I know what I'll do," the boy said, gazing at the road moving slowly toward the wheels. "I'll bring an extra nickel tomorrow when I ride on the bus." "Yes." he added eagerly, "I'll do that, bring an extra nickel tomorrow." "That's right. What difference does it make if you pay now or tomorrow?" the driver assured him. We nodded and looked pleased at the solution "Isn't it funny," the youngster reflected, climbing onto the high side-seat, "when I put my money in my plain pocket, I never lose it. And now when I had it in my zipper pocket, I did lose it." Impatiently he forsook the seat and returned to the congenial atmosphere in the vicinity of his friend, the driver. He leaned over the silver railing and touched the change container. "How does it let the nickels out one at a time?" he questioned. The bus roared as it started again after depositing two passengers. I didn't hear the answer and swore discreetly. I've always wondered about that myself. The next one was my stop, but I didn't get off. A few blocks further on the boy shouted, "Goodbye." and the driver, replying let us both off. The little fellow ran quickly down the hill, peculiar blue coat tails sailing behind him.
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