Mr. Allan’s prediction was fulfilled.  Bel did it.  But she did it at the cost of harder work than even she had anticipated.  If it had not been for her music she would never have pulled through with the boys of Wissan Bridge.  By her music she tamed them.  The young Marsyas himself never piped to a wilder set of creatures than the uncouth lads and young men that sat in wide-eyed, wide-mouthed astonishment listening to the first song their pretty young schoolmistress sang for them.  To have singing exercises part of the regular school routine was a new thing at Wissan Bridge.  It took like wild-fire; and when Little Bel, shrewd and diplomatic as a statesman, invited the two oldest and worst boys in the school to come Wednesday and Saturday afternoons to her boarding-place to practise singing with her to the accompaniment of the piano, so as to be able to help her lead the rest, her sovereignty was established.  They were not conquered; they were converted,—­a far surer and more lasting process.  Neither of them would, from that day out, have been guilty of an act, word, or look to annoy her, any more than if they had been rival lovers suing for her hand.  As Bel’s good luck would have it,—­and Bel was born to good luck, there is no denying it,—­one of these boys had a good tenor voice, the other a fine barytone; they had both in their rough way been singers all their lives, and were lovers of music.

“That was more than half the battle, my mother,” confessed Bel, when, at the end of the first term she was at home for a few days, and was recounting her experiences.  “Except for the singin’ I’d never have got Archie McLeod under, nor Sandy Stairs either.  I doubt they’d have been too many for me, but now they’re like two more teachers to the fore.  I’d leave the school-room to them for a day, an’ not a lad’d dare stir in his seat without their leave.  I call them my constables; an’ I’m teaching them a small bit of chemistry out o’ school hours, too, an’ that’s a hold on them.  They’ll see me out safe; an’ I’m thinkin’ I’ll owe them a bit part o’ the five guineas when I get it,” she added reflectively.

“The minister says ye’re sure of it,” replied her mother.  “He says ye’ve the best school a’ready in all his circuit.  I don’t know how ever ye come to’t so quick, child.”  And Isabella McDonald smiled wistfully, spite of all her pride in her clever bairn.

“Ye see, then, what he’ll say after the examination at New Year’s,” gleefully replied Bel, “if he thinks the school is so good now.  It’ll be twice as good then; an’ such singin’ as was never heard before in any school-house on the island, I’ll warrant me.  I’m to have the piano over for the day to the school-house.  Archie and Sandy’ll move it in a big wagon, to save me payin’ for the cartin’; an’ I’m to pay a half-pound for the use of it if it’s not hurt,—­a dear bargain, but she’d not let it go a shilling less.  And, to be sure, there is the risk to be counted.  An’ she knew I ’d have it if it had been twice that.  But I got it out of her that for that price she was to let me have all the school over twice a week, for two months before, to practise.  So it’s not too dear.  Ye’ll see what ye’ll hear then.”