Carmella Commands
would have counted them out. They rushed at Carmella, stepping heavily on her bare toes as they struck. Shrill shrieks filled the house, and the battle royal was raging as Maria dashed upstairs and into the room.
“Stop it! Stop it!” she cried in Italian, as she separated the fighters, slapping here and there to enforce her commands.
Carmella sat sullenly on the bed, not deigning to speak.
“It’s what she does to us, mamma!” cried Paola, while Raffaela retired to the corner and laughed hysterically.
Carmella’s shame kept her silent. To talk would be to tell tales on children younger than she. She had been caught fairly enough. She would take what blame was coming. But the humiliation of living in dreams of becoming a real estate factor only to discover herself in the middle of a babyish mêlée was greater than the possible consequences of the battle.
Instead of punishing, however, Maria went downstairs, after telling them all to hurry. She had known something of Carmella’s methods with the younger children, and she had the feeling that a just revenge had been accomplished.
Raffaela and Paola promptly followed her, and demanded breakfast, giggling occasionally in their excitement. Carmella dressed slowly, debating whether to slip out the front door, or to go back to the kitchen and face the covert jibes. Her impulse was to avoid
[100]
