As she entered the crowded vestibule of the Royal Hotel, a group of men—diggers, sugar planters, storekeepers, bankers, ship captains, and policemen, who were all laughing hilariously at some story which was being told by one of their number—at once made a lane for her to approach the office, for ladies—especially young and pretty ladies—were few in comparison to the men in North Queensland in those days, and a murmured whisper of admiration was quite audible to her as she made her inquiry of the clerk.
“No; Mr. Mallard is with Mr. and, Miss Grainger at the 'Queen's.' He left here a few minutes ago.”
“May I show you the way, miss?” said a huge bearded man, who, booted and spurred, took off his hat to her in an awkward manner. “I'm Dick Scott, one of Mr. Grainger's men.”
“Thank you,” replied Sheila, “it is very kind of you,” and, escorted by the burly digger, she went out into the street again.
“Are you Miss Caroline, ma'am?” said her guide to her respectfully, as he tried to shorten his lengthy strides.
“Yes, my name is Carolan,” she replied, trying to hide a smile.
“Thought so, ma'am. I heerd the boss a-tellin' Miss Grainger as you would be a-comin' to Chinkie's on yer way up ter Minervy Downs. Here's the 'Queen's,' miss, an' there's the boss and his sister and Mr. Mallard on the verandah there havin' a cooler,” and then, to her amusement and Grainger's astonishment, Mr. Dick Scott introduced her.
“This is Miss Caroline, boss. I picked her up at the 'Royal,'” and then, without another word, he marched off again with a proud consciousness of having “done the perlite thing.”
“I am Sheila Carolan, Mr. Grainger. I was at the 'Royal 'asking for Mr. Mallard when Mr. Scott kindly brought me here.”
“I am delighted to meet you, Miss Carolan,” said Grainger, who had risen and extended his hand. “I had not the slightest idea you had arrived.” And then he introduced her to his sister and Mallard.