The next time that Emmie wept because she couldn't have something she saw in a store window, Val realized it was time that she should be taken into her confidence. When they were alone:
"Now, can you keep a famerly secret?"
"Yes."
"Cross your heart, and hope you may die if you ever tell."
Emmie complied with these requirements.
"Well, we're pore, all of us—gran'ma, too—awful, awful pore, and you mustn't hurt their feelin's askin' for green hats and things."
"'Tain't so. Gamma ain't pore."
"I tell you she is."
"Why"—Emmie laughed her silvery little laugh, and showed her small white teeth bewitchingly—"she's got a ole hair-trunk full o' money."