"The most beautiful 'cello you ever saw! It is one hundred and fifty years old.

It was made at Prague.

I paid a hundred and fifty pounds for it." Helen looked.
"That was a good deal to pay for a 'cello," she said, yet conscious as she spoke that--even as Peter on the Mount--she had made the remark chiefly because she "wist not what to say." "Not a bit!" said Ronnie.

"A chap in the orchestra at the Hague, with a fine 'cello of his own, told me he had never in his life handled such a beauty.

He considered it a wonderful bargain." "It _is_ a beauty," said Helen, pouring hot water from the urn into the teapot, with a hand which trembled.
Ronnie wheeled a third chair up to the low tea-table, opposite his own particular seat, leaned his 'cello up against it, sat down, put his elbows on his knees, and glowed at it with enthusiasm.
"I knew you would say so, darling.