Carmella Commands
Mr. Barrington was silent for a moment, as if digesting this novel idea of doing business through a schoolgirl who was younger than his own pampered and futile Margaret. Yet he remembered that this same child had beaten him in a real estate deal, and had saved the day when a grafter appeared.
Carmella needed the delay to adjust herself. She turned a glance of worshiping gratitude on Dixon. She had not known there were such men in the world—men who would brave their jobs to cover a foolish girl’s folly. Never would she forget the way in which she had forced herself on him.
“What do you know about your father’s business?” Mr. Barrington suddenly growled. In his moment of reflection he had decided to try her out. Either she could help, or she was a nuisance. He would find out which.
“He’s got a job on his hands,” said Carmella, finding her voice with difficulty.
“Then why’s he falling down on it?”
“I know he’s not speeding up to match the Cronin crowd,” she answered. “He hasn’t got the men, and he hasn’t got the trucks.”
“Then why doesn’t he get ’em? I’ve told him to.”
“Did you advance him the money to?” asked Carmella, with surprising calmness.
Mr. Barrington thereupon lost his temper.
“Did I what?” he roared, in tones that made the traffic officer turn.
[184]
