Ever since I bought it, after choosing your organ at Zimmermann's, I have been thinking of the moment when I should show it to you; though an even greater moment is coming for us soon, Helen." "Yes, Ronnie." "Look how the two silver strings shine in the firelight.

I call it the Infant of Prague." "Why the 'Infant' ?" "Because it is a hundred and fifty years old; and because you have to be so careful not to bump its head, when you carry it about." Helen put her hand to her throat.
"I think it is a foolish name for a violoncello," she said, coldly.
"Not at all," explained Ronnie.

"It seems to me more appropriate every day.

My 'cello is the nicest infant that ever was; does what it's told, gives no trouble, and only speaks when it's spoken to!" Helen bent over the kettle.

It was boiling.