Carmella Commands
was some fun in being a chauffeur,” admitted Dixon. “But ever since I’ve been at it, it’s nothing but dodge bumpers and crossing crashes.”
“Then why do you do it?” Carmella was insistent.
“Got to do something for a start, haven’t I? I’ve only been chauffing a couple of years. This is my first job, outside of carrying papers. But I didn’t want to be a newsboy all my life, any more than I want to do this forever.”
“Goodness!” exclaimed Carmella. One of her cherished ideals was busily deflating. She knew several chauffeurs, and they were mostly pleasant young men who often took their sweethearts out to ride in the evening in their employers’ cars. Her chief objection to Nicolo Pieri was that he was not yet old enough to be a chauffeur.
She had already highly resolved that her first beau should be a professional driver. And if he did a little bootlegging on the side he would have even more money with which to lavish gifts on her. This Dixon person was a new kind of chauffeur to her. She turned to him, saying:
“You been driving only two years? Gee, you’re good at it! How old are you, anyway?”
“I had my twentieth birthday last week,” he answered.
“Gee!”
“What’s the matter with twenty?” he asked.
[78]
