With the full force of his deep, bass-like, violoncello notes, gathering
up all the others and fusing them into a pealing strain, it was
electin'. Everybody sang. Old voices, that had not sung for a quarter of
a century or more, joined in. It was a furor: Dalgetty swung his tartan
cap, Sandy his hat; handkerchiefs were waved, staves rang on the floor.
The children, half frightened in spite of their pleasure, were quieter
than their elders.

"Eh, but it was good fun to see the old folks gone crazy for once!" said
Archie McLeod, in recounting the scene. "Now, if they'd get that way
oftener they'd not be so hard down on us youngsters."

At the conclusion of the song the first thing Little Bel heard was
Dalgetty's piping voice behind her,--

"And guineas it is, Miss McDonald. Ye've won it fair an' square. Guineas
it is!"

"Eh, what? Guineas! What is 't ye're sayin'?" asked Sandy Bruce; his
eyes, steady glowing like coals, gazing at Little Bel.

"The supplement, sir," answered Little Bel, lifting her eyes roguishly
to his. "Mr. Dalgetty thought I was too young for the school, an' he'd
promise me no supplement till he saw if I'd be equal to 't."

This was the sly Bel's little revenge on Dalgetty, who began confusedly
to explain that it was not he any more than the other trustees, and he
only wished that they had all been here to see, as he had seen, how
finely the school had been managed; but nobody heard what he said, for
above all the humming and buzzing and laughing there came up from the