“Let her alone,” the great man laughed. “Miss Lee is going to give me the privilege of hearing the truth about myself.”
“But I’m asking. I don’t know what the truth is,” she protested.
“Well, what you think is the truth.”
“It doesn’t matter what we think about you. The important thing to know is what you think about us.”
“Am I to tell you what I think of you—with all these young men here?” he countered.
She was excited by her own impudence. The pink had spilled over her creamy cheeks. She flashed a look of pretended disdain at her young men. Nevertheless, she made laughing protest.
“It’s not me, but Mesa, that counts,” she answered ungrammatically. “Tell me that you’re 203 going to help us set orchards blossoming in these deserts, and we’ll all love you.”
“You offer an inducement, Miss Lee. Come—let us walk up to the Point and see this wonderful country of yours.”
She clapped her hands. “Oh, let’s! I’m tired of boys, anyhow. They know nothing but nonsense.” She made a laughing moue at Flatray, and turned to join the railroad builder.
The young sheriff arose and trailed to his pony. “My marching orders, I reckon.”