“You have seen her, she tells me, but I am not certain whether you will recognise her. She comes from some place near Adelong in New South Wales; her people used to live in Tumut.”
“Then the probability is that she will be good-looking,” said Mr. Blount. “Some of the handsomest girls I ever saw came from that sequestered spot. However, we must wait till she shows up. Was she a schoolfellow of yours?”
“No, not exactly, but I knew her when she was younger. You will know all about her when the time comes. I feel desperately hungry, after this exciting day. Oh, I hear the dinner gong.”
The dinner was not unduly prolonged, as any one of experience in the anxieties and precautions which precede such an important function will understand. So that after an adjournment to the drawing-room, when, about nine o’clock, the maid delivered a message, sotto voce, to Mrs. Imogen, who forthwith left the room, everyone revolved great expectations. These were chiefly realised, when the hostess reappeared, accompanied by a tall, handsome, exceedingly well-dressed girl, who blushed and smiled, as she was introduced to the company as “Miss Maguire of Warranbeen.” “Very pleased to meet you, Miss Maguire,” began Blount, but, with a sudden alteration of tone and manner, “Why, it’s Sheila! by all the Powers, what a transformation!” as Mrs. Bruce shook her warmly by the hand, while Imogen stood by her charge, apparently charmed with the metamorphosis which leisure, the use and reputation of “money” had effected in the unformed country girl, so lately the “maid of the Inn,” at the secluded village of Bunjil, on the Upper Sturt.
“You didn’t know me, Mr. Blount, I could see that. I had half a mind to ask you what you’d like for breakfast. I’m turned into a young lady, nowadays, you see! And Mrs. Blount, in her great kindness, persuaded me to come to the ball to-night, with her and Mrs. Bruce. I’ve been to the Show Ball at Wagga, and one or two in Tumut, by way of a start. But this is such a grand affair; I feel frightened.”
“I am sure, Sheila, you have no cause to be,” said Mrs. Bruce, reassuringly; “you native girls can all dance—it seems an instinct; your dress is charming, and you will gather confidence as the ball goes on—and your card is filled. You are a mysterious stranger, for the present. That alone will be an attraction. We’ll see to your introductions; and there are naval men in profusion.”
“I like sailors,” said Sheila, “they are so unaffected and jolly, put on no side” (she had been at a country ball at the age of sixteen, to which the officers of a man-of-war, then in Sydney, had been bidden by a liberal-minded squatter, who had invited the whole of the “township” inhabitants, in one act, and a great success it was), for Sheila bore about with her for all time the memory of two polkas, a waltz, and a galop danced with the Honourable Mr. de Bracy, midshipman of the period, to their mutual satisfaction and enjoyment.
“I think you will have your share of partners, Sheila,” said her hostess; “you certainly do credit to your dressmaker, and the Upper Sturt complexion will give you a chance with these Tasmanian girls, who are justly celebrated for theirs.”
“What a transformation!” said Blount to his wife, before they put on their wraps. “I never could have believed it. Of course she has fined down since the Bunjil days. I believe old Barney sold a Queensland station, with 30,000 head of cattle, just before the seasons turned dry. So she and her sister are considerable heiresses. She has, as you see, self-possession, and sense enough to avoid anything outré.”
“You’ll see she’ll get on quite well—make a success, indeed. People say money isn’t everything; but it goes a long way in this, or any other country, especially combined with looks, and other good qualities. You had better dance the opening set of lancers with her for a start.”