CHAPTER IX
THE BILLABONG DANCE
The slope beyond is green and still, And in my dreams I dream, The hill is like an Irish hill Beside an Irish stream. KENDALL.
"Don't dress to-night, if you don't mind, Cecil," said Jim, putting hishead into his cousin's room.
"Not dress?" Evening clothes were part of Cecil's training, and he keptto them rigidly, putting on each night for dinner what Murty O'Toole,having seen in wonder, referred to as "a quare littlecobbed-shwaller-tail jacket." He regarded with fine scorn the cheerfulcarelessness of the boys where clothes were concerned. To Jim and Wallywho were generally immensely occupied until dinner-time, and more oftenthan not had further plans for the time following, putting onregulation evening dress seemed a proceeding little short of lunatic;but since Cecil "liked that sort of thing," they let him alone.To-night, however, was different, and when Cecil repeated his queryhalf impatiently, Jim nodded.
"No. Didn't we tell you? It's the dance in the loft."
"Oh--don't you people ever dress for dances then?"
"Not for these dances," Jim answered. "It's the men's spree--all thehands and their friends; and you can be jolly well certain they won'trun to dress clothes. So we make a point of not putting 'em on. Fatherdid one year, and felt very sorry he had."
"I don't know that I'm keen on going, anyway," said Cecil.
"Oh, I think you'd better. Dad likes us to go, and it's really ratherfun," Jim responded, patiently. "Norah's quite excited about it."
"Norah's young and enthusiastic," said Cecil.
"Oh, well, you're hardly hoary-headed yourself yet!" Jim grinned."Might as well be cheerful while you're alive, Cecil, 'cause you'll bea long time dead!" He withdrew his head, shut the door with anunconcerned 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 darksuit reluctantly, a little consoled in that its very recent cut wouldcertainly be an eye-opener to Billabong, and went down to dinner,meeting on the way Norah, in a muslin frock, with her hair flying andher 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 hardlyknow it was a loft, it looks so decent. And it's so funny to see themen; they pretend they don't care a bit, but I do believe they're quiteexcited. Murty came in with a trememdous lot of ferns, and he's beennailing them all on the wall in streaks, and he and Mick Shanahannearly had a fight 'cause Mick leaned against one of them and theerection came down, and the nail tore Mick's coat. Still, it was Murtywho seemed most aggrieved! And the musicians have come out from Cunjee,and they've been practising--they can play, too!" She paused for lack ofbreath.
"What sort of music does Cunjee supply?"
"Violin and flute and a funny little piano," said Norah. "They hadquite an exciting time getting the piano up into the loft with theblock and pulley. But the music sounds very well up there. The onlytrouble is old Andy Ferguson, the fencer--he's always been accustomed tofiddle 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 oldAndy would be."
Cecil had seen Andy, who struck him as a peculiarly uninteresting oldman. That such consideration should be shown to his wishes and feelingswas a thing beyond him, and he merely stared.
"However, he's going to play the supper dances and some others," saidNorah, not noticing his silence, "so he's a bit consoled." They enteredthe drawing-room at the moment, finding Jim and Wally in armchairs,tweed clad and unusually tidy, and chafing miserably against thetyranny of white shirts after days of soft variety. "And a big buggyload of girls has come out from Cunjee already; and Brownie saysthere's a tremendous demand for hot water for shaving from the men'squarters, and Dave Boone came in for some mutton fat for his hair, butshe wouldn't give it to him. Now she's half sorry she didn't, 'causeshe 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 yougoing to dance with, Cecil?"
"You, if I may," drawled Cecil.
"Why, of course, if you want to," Norah said, laughing. "But we alwaysdance with every one on these occasions. It's one of the sights ofone's life to see Wally leading Brownie out!"
Cecil gasped.
"And am I expected to dance with Mrs. Brown?"
"Very possibly she won't have a dance to spare you," said Wallyserenely. "Brownie's no end popular, you see. Thank goodness. I'vebooked mine with her already!"
Cecil's stare spoke volumes.
"And who are your partners, Norah?"
"Any one who asks me," said that maiden promptly.
"And your father allows it?"
"Certainly he does," said Jim. "Don't get tragic, Cecil. The men on theplace are an awfully decent lot, and most of them have been here everso long--besides, it's their one night in the year, and they neveroverstep their limits. Dad always plans this spree himself specially.Of course, if you don't like--"
Jim stopped short, and bit his tongue. It had suddenly occurred to himthat he was host--and he had nearly said something rude. So he whistledvaguely, and asked Wally if he were going to dance with Lee Wing, whowas the Chinese gardener.
"Wish I could get the chance," said Wally, his eyes twinkling. "Thinkof piloting fat old Lee Wing through a polka--he'd get so beautifullypuffed, and his pigtail would wave in the breeze, and he'd be such anarmful!"
"Do you mean to say that Chow comes, too?" queried Cecil.
"No; he's shy," Wally answered. "We've tried to get him, but in vain;he prefers to go to bed and dream of China. And Billy hangs about likea black ghost, but he won't come in. So we lose a lot of internationalenjoyment; but, even so, what's left is pretty good, itsn't it, Norah?"
"I love it," said Norah.
"And you don't get any of your own friends to come? It seems to me thequeerest arrangement," said Cecil.
"It's the men's dance, don't you see? There wouldn't be much fun forthem if the place were filled up with our friends."
"Well, I should think a few of your own sort would be better. Aren'tthere any girls or boys within reach that you know? I suppose you've ajuvenile sweetheart or two in the district?"
Norah looked at him blankly. Wally gave an expressive wriggle in hischair, and Jim sat up suddenly, with a flush on his brown face.
"We never talk that sort of rot here," he said angrily. "Norah's not atown girl, and her head isn't full of idiotic, silly bosh. I'll thankyou--"
Mr. Linton came in at the moment, and the point on which Jim intendedto express his gratitude remained unuttered. Cecil had reddenedwrathfully, and the general atmosphere was electric. Mr. Linton took,apparently, no notice. He pulled Norah's hair gently as he passed her.
"You're all remarkably spruce," he commented. "Can any one tell me whyalmost every maid I have met in my house this day turns and flees asthough I were the plague? Sarah is the only one who doesn't shun me,and her mind appears to be taken up with affairs of State, for I askedher twice if she had seen my tobacco pouch, and she brought me inresponse a jug of shaving water, for which I have had no use for sometime!" He laughed, stroking his iron-grey beard. "Can you explain themystery, Norah?"
"It's easy," said his daughter. "Sarah's hair has a natural friz, soshe's the only girl in the house without curling pins concealed--more orless--in her front hair. Brownie gave permission for the pins to-day; Iguess she thinks it would give Sarah an unfair start if she didn't!"
"But the shaving water?"
"Ah, well, I expect Fred Anderson wanted that. She's engaged to him,you know," said Norah, simply.
"Well, I hardly see why she should give me his shaving water, eitherfrom Anderson's point of view or mine; but I suppose it's all right,"said Mr. Linton. "The whole place is upset. I really wanted some workdone, but the men who should have been sinking a well were tacking upferns, and those
whose mission in life is--or ought to be--hoeing outragwort were putting French chalk on the floor of my loft! Judging frommy brief inspection, it seemed to me that the latter occupation was farmore strenuous than the ragwort job; but they seemed much happier thanusual, and were working overtime without a struggle!"
"To hear you talk so patiently," quoth Norah, "no one would imaginethat you'd bought the French chalk yourself!" She perched on the arm ofhis chair, and looked at him severely, while the boys laughed.
"The men are like a lot of kids to-day," Jim said. "Did you hear aboutold Lee Wing, Dad? He was standing under the block and pulley afterthey'd hoisted up the piano, and I expect the sight of the hook on theend of the dangling rope was too much for the men, for they slipped itthrough Wing's leather belt and hauled him up too! You should have seenhim, with his pigtail dangling, kicking at the end of the rope like thespider in 'Little Miss Muffet!' They landed him in the loft, and FredAnderson insisted on waltzing with him, while one of the musicianshammered out The Merry Widow on the piano. Poor old Wing was very wildat first, but they got him laughing finally."
"Why that long-suffering Chinaman stays here is always a mystery tome," said his father, laughing. "He's the butt of the whole place; buthe fattens on it."
"There's the dinner gong!" said Norah, jumping up. "Come on, gentlemen,we've to hurry to-night, so that the girls can get free early."
The loft over the stables, which had been built with a view to suchoccasions, was quite transformed when the house party entered it acouple of hours later. The electric light--Billabong had its own plantfor lighting--had been extended to the loft, and gleamed down on aperfect bower of green--bracken and coral ferns, the tender foliage ofyoung sapling tops, Christmas bush, clematis and tall reeds from thelagoon--the latter gathered by Jim and Wally during their morning bathe.Rough steps had been improvised to lead from outside up to the maindoor of the loft, over which still dangled from the block and pulleythe rope that had suspended the irate Lee Wing earlier in the day. Itwas also possible to enter by the usual method--a trapdoor in the floorover a ladder leading from the floor below; but this was considered bythe men scarcely suitable for their partners. All traces of its usualcontents had, of course, been removed from the big room, and the floorgleamed in the light, mute evidence of the ardour with which Mr.Linton's French chalk had been applied. At one end, near the railingguarding the trapdoor, the Cunjee musicians were stationed, and closeto them a queer old figure hovered--old Andy Ferguson, gnarled andknotted and withered; Irish, for all his Scotch name, and with his oldblue eyes full of Irish fire at the thought of "a spree." He held hisold fiddle tenderly as he might hold a child; it, too, was the worsefor wear, and showed in more than one place traces of repair; but whenAndy wielded the bow its tones were just as mellow to him as the finestinstrument on earth. He kept a jealous eye on the Cunjee men; theymight oust him for most of the night, but at least his was to be theold privilege of opening the ball. "The Boss" had said so.
The homestead men had lined up near the door to receive theirguests--to-night they were hosts to Mr. Linton and his children, as toevery one else. They were a fine lot of fellows--Murty O'Toole, and MickShanahan, the horse breaker, and Willis and Blake and Burton--all longand lean and hard, with deep-set, keen eyes and brown, thin faces;Evans, who was supposed to be over-seer, and important enough to arrivelate; younger fellows, like Fred Anderson and David Boone (the latter'shair suspiciously smooth and shiny); Hogg, the dour old man who ruledthe flower garden and every one but Norah; and a sprinkling of oddrouseabouts and boys, very sleek and well brushed, in garments ofvarying make, low collars, and the tie the bushman loves "forbest"--pale blue satin, with what Wally termed "jiggly patterns" on it.Of the same type were the guests--men from other stations, cocky farmersand a very small sprinkling of township men.
The ladies kept rigidly on arrival to the other side of the loft. Therewas Mrs. Brown, resplendent in a puce silk dress that Norah rememberedfrom her earliest childhood, with a lace cap of monumental structuretopped by a coquettish bow of pale pink ribbon. Her kind old facebeamed on every one. Close to her, very meek under her sheltering wing,were Sarah and Mary, the housemaids--very gay in papery silks, pink andgreen, with much adornment of wide yellow lace. Norah had helped todress 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 lookedat her, as to who was the belle of the ball. Then, girls and women fromthat vague region the bush calls "about," in mixed attire--from flannelblouses and serge skirts, to a lady who hurt the eye it looked at, andmade the lights seem pale, in her gorgeous gown of mustard-colouredvelveteen, trimmed with knots of cherry-coloured ribbon. They cameearly, with every intention of staying late, and cheerfully certain ofa good time. The Billabong ball was an event for which an invitationwas much coveted.
Norah kept close to her father's wing, as they entered, shaking handsgravely with the men by the door, and with Mrs. Brown--which latterproceeding she privately considered a joke. The boys followed; Jimquiet and pleasant; Wally favouring Murty O'Toole with a solemn wink,and Cecil plainly bored by the little ceremony. He let his fingers liein each man's hand languidly--and would probably have been injured hadhe seen Murty wipe his hand carefully on the side of his trousers afterhe 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 demandat every ball in the district. Dave knew what he was about, and sawthat other people understood the fact; no shirking when he was incommand, no infringement of rules, no slip-shod dancing. Even as hekept his eagle eye on the throng, he "selected" one of the prettiestgirls himself, and bore her to the head of the room. There was neverany doubt of Dave's generalship.
Cecil turned to Norah.
"May I have this?"
"Sorry," Norah said, "I always dance with Jim first."
"P'f!" said Cecil, lightly. "That old brother-and-sister idea isexploded."
"Not with Jimmy and me," Norah answered. "Why don't you ask Mary? Shecan dance awfully well."
"No, thank you," said Cecil, with elevated nose. "I'll watch."
Wally had approached Mrs. Brown, and bowed low.
"Ours, I think?"
"Now, Master Wally, me dancin' days are over," said Brownie. "Go an'get one of the girls, now, dearie, do!"
"A girl!--when I can get you?" Wally ejaculated. "Not much!" He tuckedher hand into his arm and led her off in triumph.
"Promen-ayde y'r partners!"
Dave turned and nodded to Andy Ferguson, who, with fiddle tuckedlovingly under his chin, was waiting for his signal. He broke into amarch--the time a little shaky, the tune a little old, for the hand thatheld the bow was old and shaky, too; but still a march, with a swing toit that set the feet going at once. The dancers promenaded round theroom in a long procession, led proudly by Wally and Mrs. Brown. At oneend a few men, disappointed in obtaining partners, clustered by thewall; near them stood Mr. Linton, watching in his grave, pleasant waythat was so like Jim's, with Cecil at his elbow, his delicate face dulland expressionless. Round and round marched the couples.
"Circular waltz, please!"
The music swung into a waltz without a break, and simultaneously themarch broke into the dance as every man seized his partner by the waistand began to revolve solemnly and silently. Cecil gaped.
"What on earth is a circular waltz?"
"Blest if I know for certain," replied his uncle, laughing. "Much likeany other waltz--but you mustn't use the middle of the floor. Watchyoung Boone."
Dave was keeping an eagle eye on the dancers. For the most part theywere content to gyrate near the wall; but should any more daring coupleapproach the unoccupied space in the middle of the room, they wereinstantly detected and commanded to return. As Cecil looked, Wally, whowas dancing with a broad grin of sheer happiness on his face, swung hispond
erous partner right across the centre--and was greeted by thevigilant M.C. with the stern injunction--"Keep circle!" Quite obliviousthat this outbreak had anything to do with him, while Mrs. Brown,feeling the most miserable of sinners, was far too breathless toexplain, Wally presently repeated his offence, whereupon Boone pulledhim up gravely, and pointed out his enormity to him. The culpritgrinned the more widely, promised amendment, nodded vigorously, anddanced off, Mrs. Brown remaining speechless throughout. Mr. Lintonsmothered a laugh in his beard.
Presently the music came to an end. Old Andy put his fiddle down andlooked along the loft with a happy little smile. The dancers stopped,and Mr. Boone's voice rose sonorously.
"Seats, please!"
At this, each man rushed with his partner to the side of the loftpreviously tenanted by the ladies, and deposited her on the long formsranged there. Then the men retreated hastily to the other side.
There was no conversation, nor had there been any through the dance. Itseemed that the poetry of motion must suffice for enjoyment.
Norah and Jim, who had been dancing vigorously, pulled up near theothers.
"Did you see me get hauled over the coals?" asked Wally gleefully. Hehad placed Mrs. Brown on a seat, and followed the example of his sex inretreating.
"Rather--we were in fits, behind you!" said Jim. "Was Dave cross?"
"Oh, quite mild; took my assurance that I didn't know I was sinning,and forgave me like a man and a brother. And why shouldn't a fellowcross that floor?"
"Goodness knows; but it's a rule. They dance very strictly, and in manyways more correctly than we do."
"There are two lovely couples," said Wally, gleefully. "They hold eachother firmly round the neck, and they revolve on the space of athreepenny bit. It's beautiful. May I try that way with you, Norah?"
"No, you mayn't," laughed Norah; "at least, not here. They might thinkwe were imitating them."
"Curious penetration on their parts!" rejoined Wally. "Well, can youtell me why lots of the men hold one arm behind their backs?"
"In my young days that was quite ordinary," Mr. Linton put in. "Ialways danced that way--and I was remarkably run after," he added,modestly. Whereat Wally meekly assured him that he thought the practicea highly desirable one, and had serious thoughts of adopting ithimself.
"I've been looking at the programme nailed up for the musicians," saidCecil. "There are some dances I never saw--Varsoviana, CircassianCircle, and Caledonians."
"In the Varsoviana," said Mr. Linton, retrospectively, "I used toshine."
"Well, they beat US," said his son. "We can't dance 'em; but we lookon. The first two are round dances, and the Caledonians is a square. Isuppose they'd be all right, only they're not taught now."
"And there are no two-steps," said Cecil, in a tone of personal injury.
Jim laughed outright.
"It'd be so much simpler for you if you'd remember you're at what'scommonly known as 'a bush hop'," he said. "You can't expect the lastadornments of a city spree. Anyway, they get more honest fun out ofthis than most people do at a Melbourne or Sydney ball."
Cecil looked patient.
"May I have the next dance, Norah?"
"I'm sorry, truly, Cecil, but I've promised it to Murty."
"Oh!" said Cecil. "The next?"
"That's Mick Shanahan's," said Norah, laughing. "But you may have theone after that if you like."
"I must be thankful for small mercies, I suppose," said he,unthankfully.
"Won't you dance with any one else?"
"No, thanks, I don't care to." The tone was final.
"Well, I'm going to collar Sarah or die!" said Wally, manfully. "I'llprobably die, anyway, 'cause Fred has his eye on her. Still, heregoes!"
The musicians gave a preliminary blast, on which followed a shout fromthe M.C.
"Select y'r partners for the lancers!"
At the word there was a general stampede. Youths who had been timidbefore, grown bolder now, dashed towards the long row of girls. Wheremore than one arrived simultaneously, there was no argument; the manwho failed to speak first shot off to find another damsel. In a momentevery available fair one had been secured firmly, and the dancersawaited further commands.
Wally had not waited for permission from Mr. Boone. At the first soundof the music he had darted towards Sarah, arriving beside the lady with"the natural friz" a yard in front of Fred Anderson.
It was not etiquette to refuse to dance, and the fact that he was "theBoss's" guest, if only a boy, carried weight. Sarah rose, with a ruefulglance at her disappointed swain. The two disconsolate faces movedWally to compassion.
"I say--I'm awfully sorry," he said. "'Fraid I got ahead of youunfairly, Fred--perhaps you'll excuse me this time, Sarah? You don'tmind? Well, you'll give me the next, won't you? Thanks, awfully." Herelinquished her to the beaming Fred, and returned, partnerless, to Mr.Linton and Cecil.
Then it was a marvellous sight to behold young Dave Boone! With Mrs.Brown on his arm, he "took the floor" at the head of the room, seeingthat the dancers were correctly sorted out in sets; and thenceproceeded to dance and instruct the room simultaneously, in a mannertruly amazing. With what agility did he "set to partner" and "swingcorner," with his eagle eye all the time scanning the sets to make sureno one mixed up the commands!--how ably bear his part in "First lady andsecond gent.," not even put out of step by the necessity of telling thefurther end of the room that it was going wrong!--how splendidly issuethe edict to "chassee-crossee" and "gent. solo," finding time, even inthe press of his double occupation, to propel his panting partner inthe way she should go! His voice rang out over the room, indicatingeach figure as it came--there was no excuse for making any mistake in asquare dance when Mr. Boone was in command. And all the while he dancedwith a wholehearted energy and a face of absolute gravity. No one,watching him, could have possibly imagined that this was a pastime.
"I've seen Boone looking infinitely more cheerful when fighting a bushfire!" said Mr. Linton.
"Talk about a conjurer!" was Cecil's astonished comment. "I never sawone man do so many things at once!"
The music ceased at last, and the "Seats, please!" marked the temporarytermination of the labours of the M.C. Murty brought Norah back to herfather, thanked her gravely, and made off.
"What happened to you, Wally?" queried Jim, restoring a blushing damselin blue to her form and rejoining his relations. "Did Sarah turn youdown?"
"I resigned gracefully in favour of Fred," Wally said. "He lookedmurderous, and Sarah looked woe-begone, so it seemed the best plan. Butshe's mine for the next--and ill befall the caitiff that disputes myclaim!"
"No one'd dare!" said Jim, hastily. "I'm after Brownie, myself."
"Ah, Jim, be steady with her," said Norah. "It's a polka!"
"I'll be steady as old Time," Jim told her, smiling. True to hispromise, when the music began he danced mildly and moderately, andBrownie emerged from the ordeal in far better order than might havebeen expected.
After that the evening flew. Dance after dance went by in rapidsuccession--for the guests were out to dance, and where no time iswasted in talking much may be done with a few hours. Cecil steadfastlydeclined any partner but Norah, and as that maiden had no mind to sparehim more than two, his evening was dull, since his sense of humour wasnot equal to finding any fun in the entertainment. He was the object ofconsiderable curiosity among the visitors, and was generally voted"stuck-up," and "too big for his boots." As for Jim and Wally, theyflung themselves cheerfully into the business of the night, and evensucceeded in making most of their partners talk, albeit this was adaring proceeding, and not looked upon with favour by the M.C. Theywere too popular, however, to come in for any real criticism, and beingregarded by the majority of the men as "just kids," were allowed to dovery much as they liked.
Supper was a majestic meal, spread on long tables in a big tent. Mr.Linton led the way to it with Mrs. Brown, followed by Mick Shanahan,who conveyed Norah much in the way he danced with her--as if she
were apiece of eggshell china, and apt to crack with careless handling. Therewas no "head of the table"; every one sat in the place that seemedgood, and tongues flew as fast as the knives and forks. At the end Mr.Linton made a little speech.
"My friends," he said, "it's a great pleasure to Billabong to see youall here. I hope you'll keep it up till morning, and come again nextyear; you're always welcome. However, it is time my daughter went tobed." (Dissent, and cries of "Not her!") "Before she goes, though, Iwould like to see one more dance. I move that our old friend AndyFerguson play the 'Royal Irish.'"
There was frantic applause, and supper adjourned hastily, while everyone hurried back to the loft; in the midst old Andy, his quaveringvoice a little raised in excitement, his fiddle held firmly in onehand. "Too old to work," some called him, wondering why David Lintonkept the old fencer, when younger men were always wanting work onBillabong; and now, as he faced the long room with his faded blue eyesa little misty, Andy looked an old man indeed. But the pride of workwas in him, and his master knew it--knew how the gnarled hands ceased totremble when they grasped the adze and mattock, just as there was nowno quiver in them as he raised the brown fiddle and cuddled it underhis chin. Age would seize on Andy only when he could work and play nomore. The light came back into his eyes as he saw the boys and girlswaiting for the music--his music.
He drew the bow lovingly across the strings, and swung into the Irishdance the old, common tune with the little gay lilt to it that gripsthe heart and makes the feet beat time, and has the power to wake oldmemories across the years. There were no memories to wake in the happyyoung hearts in the loft at Billabong that night. But Andy looked overthe heads of the dancers at his master, meeting his eyes as man to man,and each knew that the mind of the other had gone back to days longdead.
The long floor echoed under the dancers' feet--up and down, swing in thecentre, hands across; the pace was always a good one when Andy Fergusonplayed the "Royal Irish." One foot tapped out the time, and his greyhead nodded in sympathy with it. They called to him now and again,"Bravo, Andy! Good man, Andy! Keep it going!" and he smiled at thefriendly voices, watching them with the keenness of the Irishman for alight foot in a dance.
Just before him, Mrs. Brown, dancing with Jim, was footing it in andout of the figures like a girl, holding her skirts quaintly on eitherside as she advanced and retired, and came back to sweep a curtsey thatshamed the quick bow of the younger generation, while the tall lad shehad nursed waited for her with a grave gentleness that sat prettily onhis broad shoulders. Near, too, the old man's eyes dwelt lovingly onNorah, whose eyes were dancing in time with her feet as Wally prancedher madly up and down, his own brown face glowing.... just for a momentAndy saw "the little mistress" who had known her baby for so brief atime fourteen years before; her face looked at him through her child'sgrey eyes. He looked across at his master again, a little wistfully.
The tune broke into "St. Patrick's Day," and Murty O'Toole gave asudden involuntary shout, his hand above his head, Mick Shanahan echoedit; the Irish music was in their blood, and the old man with the brownfiddle had power to make them boys again. He, too, had gone back on thelilt of the tune; back to his own green country, where the man with thefiddle has his kingdom always, and the lads and lasses are hissubjects. There was a girl with blue Irish eyes, coming to meet him onSt. Patrick's morning... the tune wavered ever so little then, as hisheart cried out to her. Then the dream passed, and he knew that he wasa boy no more, but old Andy Ferguson, playing for the boys and girls inthe loft at Billabong. The bow moved faster and faster yet--only a goodpair could see him right through the "Royal Irish." They were pantingwhen he dropped his hand at last and stood looking at them a littlevaguely. Then they crowded round him, thanking him. Even the Cunjeemusicians were saying that he could beat them all, and Miss Norah hadput her hand into his, and was patting his arm. There was a mist beforehim--he could not see them all, though he knew his triumph.
"'Tis wid the kindness of all of y'," he murmured. "So good to me y'all are!"
David Linton's hand was on his shoulder.
"Come on, old friend," he said, gently; "we're getting old and we'retired, you and I." He led him away, Norah still holding his hand.Behind them the music broke out again, cheerily, and the flying feetmade the loft echo until the dawn.
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