Carmella Commands
come down to cases with me. What in hell do you want with m’ mother?”
Mrs. Coletta glanced proudly at the assembled neighbors. Perhaps she was helpless in the face of English speech, but she had a daughter! And such a daughter!
“Who the hell are you, kid?” demanded the stranger, taken by surprise.
“I’m the talking member of this firm, Mr. Smarty,” said Carmella. “I pay the taxes and the graft and I know Tim O’Neil, the big cop down at headquarters. That’s me! Now who are you and what do you want?”
“Well, you’re some kid, all right,” exclaimed the stranger. “Now look here, kid⸺”
“Miss Coletta is my name,” said Carmella.
“Yeh! Miss Coletta. All I’m doing is to collect poll tax figures. Who’s your dad?”
“Who’s your old man?” asked Carmella.
“Cut that out!” said the canvasser. “I’m official. Now who’s the men folks around this house?”
“Are you a cop?” asked Carmella.
She had heard of plain clothes men.
“Nothing like it,” said the stranger.
“Then show me a badge. If you’re official, you gotta badge.”
Mr. Stephens, college sophomore, pulled open his coat and showed a nickel badge.
Carmella inspected it carefully.
[30]
