Carmella Commands
But Tommaso suddenly laughed, long and loud, like a boy whose voice is changing.
Both children, dismayed, turned toward him. Whatever battle they might have staged turned to bewildered truce at their father’s mirth. Maria gazed, uncomprehending. But not for years had she questioned anything that her lord and master did.
Tommaso was still chuckling heavily when the sound of the front-door bell saved them from any further comment. Giuseppe, being nearest, darted for the door, whereupon Carmella sat down in a premium chair, as prim and disinterested as a defeated candidate for office.
From the door she heard a deep voice using her name, and Giuseppe, his voice queer and uncertain, saying:
“Y-y-yes, s-sir, sh-she’s here all r-right. I’ll c-c-call her.”
“I’ll just come in,” said the heavy voice, followed by heavy footsteps.
And there, framed in the doorway, stood the perfect policeman in full uniform.
Six feet and over; a hundred and ninety pounds; wide, square shoulders; face heavily lined, but with a smile in every twitch of it; agile and happy; pleasant but firm. For months thereafter Policeman 437 was the image that Carmella pictured to herself playing opposite, in her daydreams of Hollywood.
“Par-r-don, folks!” he said. “But I’m after want-
[214]
