It was for Power to come forward with the compliment; but she received silence for her pains. She pouted charmingly as a child might do.
All the moods sat in her eyes, and a hurry of passions, grave and gay, waited on her ready lips. Had she been a little older, or read another page of life, she might have understood those silences, and taking pity, have set her horse upon the road. But she looked across to say:
"I reckon you don't take much account of looks in a girl." She failed again. A third time she tried. "Others do."
"I see," he said. He pushed a hand across his face, for the flies held high festival that afternoon. "We didn't leave you lonely when we rode off?"
"No," came with a toss of the head. "All men aren't like you, Mr. Power. Some knows a neat ankle, though it takes the best part of a dozen mile through the bush to find it."
"And this bold knight, is he young and charming?"
"No, he isn't. He's fat, and sweats when he walks. But he knows how to talk a girl round, and he calls me his Princess."
"Then it is a royal courtship on both sides." She did not understand. "King is your courtier," he said. "I'm glad we didn't all forget you." There fell a little pause and his forehead wrinkled up. Then he said earnestly: "Answer me, girl. I am not asking for nothing. Mick O'Neill is in love with you. Do you mean to run square with him; or is he to be the dog barking up the tree, and the 'possum not at home?"
She showed a flash of temper for the first time.
"My name is Moll Gregory, my address is North Queensland, and I am not telling what I do to every feller stopping me on the road."