and the tie the bushman loves "for
best"--pale blue satin, with what Wally termed "jiggly patterns" on it.
Of the same type were the guests--men from other stations, cocky farmers
and a very small sprinkling of township men.

The ladies kept rigidly on arrival to the other side of the loft. There
was Mrs. Brown, resplendent in a puce silk dress that Norah remembered
from her earliest childhood, with a lace cap of monumental structure
topped by a coquettish bow of pale pink ribbon. Her kind old face
beamed on every one. Close to her, very meek under her sheltering wing,
were Sarah and Mary, the housemaids--very gay in papery silks, pink and
green, with much adornment of wide yellow lace. Norah had helped to
dress them both, and she smiled delightedly at them as she came in.
There was Mrs. Willis, who ruled over the men's hut, and was reckoned,
as a cook, only inferior to Mrs. Brown; and Joe Burton's pretty wife,
in a simple white muslin--with no doubt in big Joe's heart, as he looked
at her, as to who was the belle of the ball. Then, girls and women from
that vague region the bush calls "about," in mixed attire--from flannel
blouses and serge skirts, to a lady who hurt the eye it looked at, and
made the lights seem pale, in her gorgeous gown of mustard-coloured
velveteen, trimmed with knots of cherry-coloured ribbon. They came
early, with every intention of staying late, and cheerfully certain of
a good time. The Billabong ball was an event for which an invitation
was much coveted.

Norah kept close to her father's wing, as they entered, shaking hands
gravely with the men by the door, and with Mrs. Brown--which latter
proceeding she privately considered a joke. The boys followed; Jim
quiet and pleasant; Wally favouring Murty O'Toole with a solemn wink,
and Cecil plainly bored by the little ceremony. He let his fingers lie
in each man's hand languidly--and would probably have been injured had
he seen Murty wipe his hand carefully on the side of his trousers after
he had passed on. The men had no love for the city boy.

"S'lect y'r partners!" It was Dave Boone, most noted "M.C."--in demand
at every ball in the district. Dave knew what he was about, and saw
that other people understood the fact; no shirking when he was in
command, no infringement of rules, no slip-shod dancing. Even as he
kept his eagle eye on the throng, he "selected" one of the prettiest
girls himself, and bore her to the head of the room. There was nev