On their way back, naturally Dudley talked of the Italian children.
“What do you suppose those youngsters are so worried about? Seemed to be dreadfully afraid that we would find out something; didn’t they?” he asked Babs.
“Yes. But, after all, don’t you think people do spy dreadfully upon poor folks, if they happen to be interested in them?” Barbara returned.
“Spy?” Dudley seemed to resent that.
“Oh, you know what I mean,” Barbara quickly drew back. “I mean they think they have to know all about the people they help. I’ve often seen that, when we had a sewing circle and gave aprons to poor women, the women of the sewing circle almost wanted a report upon every time the old aprons were worn.” Barbara could not hide her dislike for the prying social service sort.
Dudley laughed at that. “I suppose they are nosey,” he said merrily, “when they give away a few pennies they seem to think they have a right to butt in on everything. Well, I’ve got to say, I am a bit curious just the same. Those youngsters know. They learn a lot because they need to know it.”
“Dad says every creature is like that. Animals have developed all their traits through necessity,” Barbara answered seriously.
“You know a lot too,” laughed the boy. “Not that you need to.” This was sort of an apology.
“Oh, but I do,” insisted Barbara, in turn laughing at the idea. “Knowledge is power, you know.”
“Yes—maybe.” He paused as he swung his car around a corner. “You know I lost on your coming to this party,” he continued presently. “I bet you wouldn’t come.”