atched her
intently. When he saw the look of reverence that crossed her face, he
seemed pleased.

"You vould like to try it, yes, Miss Dorothy?"

"Oh, Herr, if I only may!"

"Surely, surely. Iss it stingy I am, do you t'ink? Surely you may try
it, my leetle girl. Here--use my own bow, too. It iss well resined,
und in good shape for to make fine moosic. Now, let me hear you
play."

Not until she had drawn the bow across the strings and heard the
deep, sweet tones of the old Cremona, did Dorothy realize that in her
hands she held an instrument constructed by one of the finest of the
old masters--an instrument that had come down, perfectly preserved
through the ages, growing better with each passing year.

As the girl played one of the simple pieces which lay uppermost on
the piano-rack, the big living-room was filled to overflowing with
matchless melody. So clear and pure were the tones that Dorothy could
hardly believe her ears. Was it indeed she who made such delightful
music, or was she dreaming?

Herr Deichenberg's voice brought her back to her normal state of
mind.

"It iss beautiful--de melody. I did not believe you could do it, even
on a Cremona."

"It is not me, Herr, but this wonderful violin," the girl cried in
admiration.

"Oh, come, now, vhen ve simmer t'ings down to a fine point, de
Cremona iss not so different from your own instrument, Miss Dorothy."

"Oh, Herr, surely you are mistaken. Why, I seem to be dreaming when I
am playing on the Cremona."

"Und vhy iss dat? Because you have made up your mind dat dis iss
absolutely de finest violin in de whole vorld, und have prepared
yourself to hear somet'ing vhich iss not there. De tones are clear
und full, but so are those of your own violin, on vhich you played
for me vhen I vass here before."

Dorothy shook her head in disbelief, unable to appreciate the full
truth of his words.

Herr Deichenberg smiled.

"You von't believe me, eh? Very vell. Let us on with de lesson. I
shall convince you at another time."

"I'm afraid you will have a hard time ever convincing me of that,"
the girl replied.

Dorothy's own violin was tuned, and on this, under the music master's
direction, she ran scales for the better part of an hour--to limber
her fingers, Herr Deichenberg said.

"But they are already limber, Herr," she returned, in a tone of mild
protest.

"Vait, vait," he good-naturedly said. "Vait just a few veeks und den
you vill see vhat you sha