“Oh, I know, Dud,” she said more pleasantly, “and I believe you. You would not—make fun of them.”
“Make fun of them? I should say not. Those youngsters are smart, and they’re—well, they’ve got a lot of our kind of kids beat,” he ended, his selection of words having nothing to do with his loyalty to the Italians.
“And I know it’s queer of me to act so cut up about it,” Babs admitted. “You would think that I were trying to hide something too.”
“I wouldn’t, but maybe some others would,” Dud rejoined, rather hurriedly for the girls were calling them insistently.
“But say, Dud,” Babs began again, “did the children really act suspicious?”
“I should say they did. The way they snapped those old shades down. It’s a wonder they didn’t pull them off their springs.”
“I didn’t suppose they were more than just timid,” Babs continued. “You know how foreigners are. They have an idea the whole world is their enemy, I guess.”
“Not youngsters who go to American schools; they know better. No, Babs, I don’t believe it was just scare, it was alarm. They were afraid we would go to the door, although they slammed it good and hard, you just bet,” Dudley declared emphatically.
“But others must go there——”
“They stick by their own kind though, clannish, I mean,” the boy explained. “If there really was something to hide in that house I’ll bet the whole neighborhood would help them to hide it.”