Carmella Commands
Mrs. Barrington was actually floundering.
“So have I other interests,” said the girl. “I shall not join.”
“But—but—that’s what I asked you here for.”
An instant afterwards, and thenceforth for many years, Mrs. Barrington grew crimson every time she recalled that remark. Never even did she find an excuse for it that saved her self-respect.
Carmella laid down her fork—she was eating salad at the moment.
“Then I shall eat no more of your food, Mrs. Barrington. I’m sorry for what I’ve eaten. You asked me here to join. I will not join. I will not eat under false pretenses.”
A blow in the face would have been a kindness to Mrs. Barrington at that instant. Again she had underestimated this strange child. And this time her own social genius had deserted her, while the Italian child sat calmly victorious. Her conversational recovery, however, did credit to her skill.
“But, Kid Kate dear, I asked you here to talk about several things.”
“Then let’s talk about Dixon,” said Carmella suddenly, scoring a follow-up blow that again almost unnerved her hostess. This was a subject on which Mr. Barrington had raged far beyond his wont, and she had grown to hate the name.
“But, my dear,” she said, “Dixon doesn’t work for us any more.”
[236]
