"Oh, well, you're hardly hoary-headed yourself yet!" Jim grinned. "Might as well be cheerful while you're alive, Cecil, 'cause you'll be a long time dead!" He withdrew his head, shut the door with an unconcerned bang, and his whistle died away up the corridor.
"Hang it!" said Cecil, disgustedly, looking at his forbidden garments. "Who wants to go to a beastly servants' ball, anyhow?" He donned a dark suit reluctantly, a little consoled in that its very recent cut would certainly be an eye-opener to Billabong, and went down to dinner, meeting on the way Norah, in a muslin frock, with her hair flying and her eyes sparkling.
"Oh! I'm so glad you haven't dressed up!" said she. "It's such fun, Cecil!—we've been helping to decorate the loft, and really you'd hardly know it was a loft, it looks so decent. And it's so funny to see the men; they pretend they don't care a bit, but I do believe they're quite excited. Murty came in with a trememdous lot of ferns, and he's been nailing them all on the wall in streaks, and he and Mick Shanahan nearly had a fight 'cause Mick leaned against one of them and the erection came down, and the nail tore Mick's coat. Still, it was Murty who seemed most aggrieved! And the musicians have come out from Cunjee, and they've been practising—they can play, too!" She paused for lack of breath.
"What sort of music does Cunjee supply?"
"Violin and flute and a funny little piano," said Norah. "They had quite an exciting time getting the piano up into the loft with the block and pulley. But the music sounds very well up there. The only trouble is old Andy Ferguson, the fencer—he's always been accustomed to fiddle for them, and he's very crushed because we've got out these men. Dad says he'd never have got them if he'd dreamed how disappointed old Andy would be."
Cecil had seen Andy, who struck him as a peculiarly uninteresting old man. That such consideration should be shown to his wishes and feelings was a thing beyond him, and he merely stared.
"However, he's going to play the supper dances and some others," said Norah, not noticing his silence, "so he's a bit consoled." They entered the drawing-room at the moment, finding Jim and Wally in armchairs, tweed clad and unusually tidy, and chafing miserably against the tyranny of white shirts after days of soft variety. "And a big buggy load of girls has come out from Cunjee already; and Brownie says there's a tremendous demand for hot water for shaving from the men's quarters, and Dave Boone came in for some mutton fat for his hair, but she wouldn't give it to him. Now she's half sorry she didn't, 'cause she believes he'll use the black fat they keep in the harness room; he's so dark no one would be able to tell—from the look! Who are you going to dance with, Cecil?"
"You, if I may," drawled Cecil.
"Why, of course, if you want to," Norah said, laughing. "But we always dance with every one on these occasions. It's one of the sights of one's life to see Wally leading Brownie out!"
Cecil gasped.