It was a saving in music. Some day an Australian writer will come along
who'll remind the critics and readers of Dickens, Carlyle,
and Thackeray mixed, and he'll do justice to these little customs of ours
in the little settled-district towns of Democratic Australia.
This sort of thing came to a head one New Year's Night at Redclay,
when there was a `public' ball and peace on earth and good will
towards all men -- mostly on account of a railway to Redclay being surveyed.
We were all there. They'd got the Doc. out of his shell to act as M.C.

"One of the aristocrats was the daughter of the local storekeeper;
she belonged to the lawn-tennis clique, and they WERE select.
For some reason or other -- because she looked upon Miss Wilson as a slavey,
or on account of a fancied slight, or the heat working on ignorance,
or on account of something that comes over girls and women
that no son of sin can account for -- this Miss Tea-'n'-sugar
tossed her head and refused Miss Wilson's hand in the first set
and so broke the ladies' chain and the dance. Then there was a to-do.
The Doctor held up his hand to stop the music, and said, very quietly,
that he must call upon Miss So-and-so to apologise to Miss Wilson --
or resign the chair. After a lot of fuss the girl did apologise
in a snappy way that was another insult. Jack Drew gave Miss Wilson his arm
and marched her off without a word -- I saw she was almost crying.
Some one said, `Oh, let's go on with the dance.' The Doctor
flashed round on them, but they were too paltry for him,
so he turned on his heel and went out without a word.
But I was beneath them again in social standing, so there was nothing
to prevent me from making a few well-chosen remarks on things in general --
which I did; and broke up that ball, and broke some heads afterwards,
and got myself a good deal of hatred and respect, and two sweethearts;
and lost all the jobs I was likely to get, except at the bank, the Doctor's,