Was it the band playing _Kathleen Mavourneen_, or was it something else that suddenly made her think of Phil and her parting promise to him at Bauer. Some one _had_ come asking her to join his trail, just as Phil had prophesied, but she needn't keep her promise in this case, because there was only one answer possible. She would stick to her own trail and go on her way alone. But--there was a queer little thrill of comfort in the thought--somehow it was nice to know that somebody wanted you, and that you didn't _have_ to be an old maid. She would keep that letter always, her first and, probably, her last proposal. Again the band was repeating that refrain of _Kathleen Mavourneen_, and the notes rang out tremulously sweet over the water: "Oh, why art thou silent, thou voice of my heart?" She recalled the scrap of music Phil had torn out and sent to her with that question on it, and that suggested the other song, _Bonnie Eloise_, whose name he had given to the girl with the greyhound. She wondered if Phil ever wrote to her now. Maybe at this very moment he was sitting in his bachelor quarters down in Mexico, looking out at the moonlight and dreaming about Eloise. She hoped not, for somehow, without cause or reason, she had conceived a strong dislike for her. Some friends of Mrs. Blythe's came hunting Mary just then, to carry her off to the hurricane deck, where something of especial interest was going on. There was no more time for serious meditation, and the combination of youth and mirth and moonlight worked its magical charm. By the time the boat had made its return trip, Mary was restored to her usual normal self, and to the equanimity that the heat and the slums and Pink's letter had upset. When the lights of the town streamed out across the river to meet them, she was rested and refreshed, ready to take up the next day's work with her usual enthusiasm. It was late when she reached home, but her long sleep in the afternoon made her wakeful, and she sat up till after midnight trying to compose a satisfactory answer to Pink's letter. It was a depressing task, and she tore up page after page, in her effort to make her refusal as kind as possible, and yet to make him understand that it was final. When it was finished and sealed she drew another envelope towards her, intending to address it to Phil. Then she hesitated and pushed it aside, saying: "I'd better wait until I'm in a more cheerful frame of mind. If I write now it'll be so full of slums and disappointments that it'll give him the doldrums." CHAPTER V MARY AND THE "BIG OPPORTUNITY"