At first she thought she was dreaming--but no, it was a mandolin being played on muted strings.

She stole to the window.

In the shadow stood a figure and at the first subdued note of his song, Mary knew who it was.
"Soft o'er the fountain Ling'ring falls the southern moon--" "If that isn't Wally all over," thought Mary.

"He thinks Helen's here, and he wants to make up." But how did he know Helen was there?
And why was he singing so sadly, so plaintively just underneath Mary's window?
Another possibility came to her mind and she was still wondering what to do when Helen came in, even as she had come in that night so long ago when Wally had sung Juanita before.
"Wait till morning! He'll hear from me!" said Helen in indignation.
Wally's song was growing fainter.

He had evidently turned and was walking toward the driveway.