Carmella Commands
Luigi’s truck, which was also to haul away the earth from their shovels. The men had demurred a little at riding in a truck used for hauling earth, but Tommaso’s quick wrath had overawed them.
Like a general he disposed of his forces—just enough men in each of three cellars to keep the truck efficiently busy. To each group he explained that there was a bonus for speed. He explained that down the road was a gang of countrymen from Clayville, working on a rival project. Clayville was a suburban Italian colony, between which and the Doty Street region there was a deep and brooding hatred.
By eight o’clock the Barrington project was a scene of wholesome industry. At nine-thirty Mr. Barrington himself, accompanied by his sixteen-year-old son John, appeared. The latter should have been in the private summer school where he was enrolled in a maternal hope that he could make up the studies in which he had failed the past year. He preferred, however, to be with his father. And the latter, himself unschooled, had an idea that practical affairs were better training than the study of books.
“Going well, Tommaso?” asked Mr. Barrington.
“Go fine!” said the new contractor.
Just then a stranger approached Tommaso and asked:
“You got a license to set them wops on this job?”
“What the hell?” asked Tommaso, in English.
“You know you gotta file a bond with the building
[160]
