Mrs. Carmel, called Em by Grandma, seldom talked above a coarse, rasping whisper or at best a croak, because all of her conversation was strictly confidential. She did not like large groups and even in a small company she would wring her hands restlessly, protruding upper teeth gnawing at under lip till chance permitted her the exclusive attention of one person, usually Grandma. These teeth were incidentally purchased for the long-deceased Mr. Carmel the very day of his death, and as an economical measure his widow instantly had her own fangs removed and wore these new teeth which might not fit perfectly but stayed in fairly well and worked a little better than her bare gums. They provided, too, an interesting sibilance to her speech, and heightened the air of secrecy to her remarks. She usually looked around the room in the middle of a sentence, to whisper, “She wouldn’t be at the door, would she?” After the first greeting the secrets began, with some such opener as, “Well, I saw the Party finally and I passed on that remark I heard about our Friend. Well, I wish you could have seen his face!” This was a game dear to Grandma’s heart and part of Mrs. Carmel’s fascination for her. “No!” Grandma would cry, edging up her chair. “I wish I could have been there! How did the Party take it?” Mrs. Carmel would click her teeth and permit herself a windy chuckle. “They gave me a kinda funny look and then this other Party spoke up and mentioned such and such a price for the property—wait till She hears that!” Grandma was as delighted with this mystery as a child and all but clapped her hands at each fresh clue from her guest.

“You mean She didn’t know the Property was for sale?”

Mrs. Carmel nodded twice very slowly. “She still goes to that Place I told you about.”

“No!” cried Grandma, flushing with excitement. “How in the world did you know?”

“I saw the letter,” whispered Mrs. Carmel, with a cautious glance at the door. “I ran into the other Party’s lawyer at the Lecture, and he showed it to me.”

It was Grandma’s turn to throw a bombshell and she drew back in her chair as if to give it more power.

“Well, don’t repeat this for the world, but this Party I told you about from Akron told me yesterday she knows for a fact the will’s been changed in his favor.”

“That’s a lie,” Mrs. Carmel said stoutly. “I can’t tell you who told me but I can assure you the will is not changed one iota in any way, shape or form.”

“You don’t mean—!” gasped Grandma, eyes sparkling, and now beginning to rock her chair happily to and fro. Such code information was exchanged between Mrs. Carmel and her friend at every visit, leaving both participants glowing with secrets only half-revealed. The children, sometimes discovered too late in the closets or under a sofa, could make neither head nor tail of what they heard, nor for that matter could any adult intruder, so that Mrs. Carmel’s intense fear of eavesdroppers was quite unnecessary.