ful old shilling in spite of myself. I wish I
could go away from Lone-Rock this very week!"

CHAPTER VI

TOLD IN LETTERS

On the way to the post-office next morning, Mary determined that if she
should meet Pink there, as she sometimes did, not even the flicker of an
eyelash should show that she remembered last night's conversation. But
when she saw the back of a familiar fur overcoat through the post-office
window, she felt the color rush into her face.

When she went in, not only was she conscious from his greeting that _he_
remembered, but the look in his eyes said as plainly as words that the
name which he kept for her alone had risen almost to his lips. It made
her uncomfortable, but she was burning with curiosity to know what that
name could be.

There were several people in the line ahead of her, and Pink emptied his
locked box before her turn came at the window. She knew that he was
waiting outside the door for her, so, when she passed him, she was
purposely absorbed in opening the only letter which had fallen to her
share. It was a tough-fibred envelope, hard to tear, and her heavily
gloved hands made clumsy work of it. Finally she thrust a forefinger
under the flap and wrenched it apart. A ragged scrap of yellowed paper
fluttered out on to the step. Pink stooped and handed it to her.

"Why, how queer! That's all there is in the envelope," she exclaimed,
shaking it, then holding out the jagged bit of paper so that Pink could
examine it with her. It was only a scrap torn from a sheet of music, or
some old song-book. They read the bars together:

[Illustration: Music: Oh! why art thou silent thou voice of my heart?]

If Mary had not been so busy puzzling over why it had been sent, she
would have seen a dull red creep into Pink's face, as he recognized it
as a line from _Kathleen Mavourneen_, the song which he told Mary the
night before he always regarded as hers.

Suddenly she laughed. "Of course! I see it now! It's just Phil's cute
way of reminding me that I owe him a letter. Once, when Jack had not
written for months, Phil called his attention to the silence by sending
a postal with just a big question mark on it. But this is a much
brighter way."

"Yes, I see a few things too," said Pink stiffly. "I'd forgotten that
that fellow down in Mexico is named Philip. So _he's_ the only person in
the world you consider the name belongs to--and he calls you--_that!_"

His ringer pointed to the last f