Carmella Commands
things—the machinery—as well as the men. And I am your interpreter in these things.”
Tommaso slowed his steps as the vision of new and bigger enterprise built itself up in his mind. To gain time, he answered the last question first.
“No need of an interpreter, piccola ragazza, for I shall have countrymen to work with me.”
“Quite true, papa! For the real digging, yes! But for buying tools and trucks.”
“I will hire a truck from Luigi Domao. He has one, and it will do to begin with. The cellars are to be small.”
“But for tools and a truck for going and coming. Mr. Barrington likes quick work and clean. He will be there Monday to watch. You are a big contractor, carissimo padre. But you will be big the quicker if you please Mr. Barrington the very first day.”
Tommaso hesitated. But Carmella, her hand on his arm, felt in his muscles that he was yielding. He was remembering his new employer’s insistence on speed. And so they entered the yellow cottage home.
“Good night, dad!” said Carmella, in English.
“Good night!” he replied, in the same language. In bed, she thought over the problem she had faced and the way in which she had met it. Her father had punished her in a new and unexpected way. Once he had used a strap. Today he had merely left her out. It had bewildered her. But she had given no sign, she thought, that she was hurt and penitent.
[157]
