But the sewing did not end at that.  The lubras’ methods of washing had proved most disastrous to my meagre wardrobe; and the resources of the homestead were taxed to the utmost to provide sufficient patching material to keep the missus even decently clothed.

“Wait for the waggons,” the Maluka sang cheerily every time he found me hunting in the store (unbleached calico or mosquito netting being unsuitable for patching).

Cheon openly disapproved of this state of affairs, and was inclined to blame the Maluka.  A good husband usually provides his wife with sufficient clothing, he insinuated; but when he heard that further supplies were on the bullock waggons, he apologised, and as he waddled about kept one ear cocked to catch the first sound of the bullock bells.  “Bullocky jump four miles,” he informed us; from which we inferred that the sound of the bells would travel four miles.  Cheon’s English generally required paraphrasing.

Almost every day some fresh garment collapsed, and I bitterly regretted my recklessness in giving Jimmy’s Nellie the bath wrapper.  Fortunately a holland dress was behaving beautifully.  “A staunch little beast,” the Maluka called it.  That, however, had to be washed, every alternate day; and, fearing possible contingencies, I was beginning a dress of unbleached calico, when the Maluka, busy among the stores, came on a roll of bright pink galatea ordered for lubras’ dresses, and brought it to the house in triumph.

Harsh, crudely pink, galatea!  Yet it was received as joyfully as ever a woman received a Paris gown; for although necessity may be the mother of invention, she more often brings thankful hearts into this world.

A hank of coarse, bristling white braid was also unearthed from among the stores, and within three days the galatea had become a sturdy white-braided blouse and skirt, that promised to rival the “staunch little beast” in staunch-heartedness.

By the time it was finished, Johnny and the Dandy had all the flooring boards down in the dining-room, and before the last nail was in, Cheon and the Maluka had carried in every available stick of furniture, and spread it about the room to the greatest possible advantage.  The walls were still unfinished, and doors and window frames gaped; but what did that matter?  The missus had a dining-room, and as she presided at her supper-table in vivid pink and the pride of possession, Cheon looked as though he would have liked to shake hands with every one at once, but particularly with Johnny.

“Looks A1,” the Maluka said, alluding to the stiff, aggressive frock, and took me “bush” with him, wearing the blouse, and a holland riding skirt that had also proved itself a true, staunch friend.

Dan, the Quiet Stockman, and the Dandy, had already gone “bush” in different directions; for with the coming of the year’s stores, horse-breaking, house-building, trunks and waggons had all stepped into their proper places—­a very secondary one—­and cattle had come to the front and would stay there, as far as the men were concerned until next Wet.