e notes.

The Infant squeaked occasionally, and wailed a little; but on the whole
it behaved very well; and, after half-an-hour's work, having found out
the key which enabled him to use chiefly the open strings, Ronnie
managed to play right through, very fairly in tune, "O come, all ye
faithful, joyful and triumphant!"

This gave him extraordinary pleasure. It seemed such a certainty of
possession, to be able to pick out all the notes for himself.

He longed that Helen might be there to hear.

The Infant of Prague grew dearer to him than ever. He was now mastering
it himself, independent of the antics of an old person of a century
ago, bowing away in the mirror.

He tried again; and this time he sang the words of the first verse, as
he played. His really fine baritone blended well with the richness of
the silver strings.

The words had occasionally to wait, suspended as it were in mid-air,
while he felt about wildly for the note on the 'cello; but, once found,
the note was true and good, and likely to lead more or less easily to
the next.

A listener, in the corridor outside, pressed her hands to her breast,
uncertain whether she felt the more inclined to laugh or to weep.

Ronnie began his verse again.

"O come ... all ye ... faithful ...
joyful and tri ... tri ... tri ... _um_
... phant ... O come, ye, O come ye,
to Beth ... Beth ... Beth ...
Be--eth--le--_hem!_"

He paused, exhausted by the effort of drawing Bethlehem complete, out of
the complication of the Infant's four vibrating strings.

He paused, and, lifting his eyes, looked into the mirror--and saw
therein the face of a woman, watching him from beside the door; a lovely
face, all smiles, and tears, and tenderness.

At first he gazed, unable to believe his eyes. But, when her eyes met
his, and she knew that he saw her, she moved quickly forward, kneeled
down beside him, and--it was the face of his wife, all flooded with glad
tenderness, which, resting against his shoulder, looked up into his.

She had spoken no word; yet at the first sight of her Ronnie knew that
the cloud which had been between them, was between no longer.

"Helen," he said; "Oh, Helen!"

CHAPTER XIX

UNTO US A CHILD IS BORN

Ronnie laid down his bow, and put his right arm round his wife.

He still held the precious Infant of Prague between his knees, his left
hand on the ebony finger-board.

"My darling!" Helen said. "So we shall be at home for Christmas aft