CHAPTER IX.
"I am very sorry to have intruded upon you," said Dolly, as Hope met her at the door of her room.
Dolly meant to be very dignified and rather haughty, but she behaved instead like what she was,—a cross, tired, homesick girl. Hope, seeing the red, swollen eyelids, forgave the crossness, and saying something pleasant about its being no intrusion, pointed out the little bed behind the screen that Dolly was to occupy, and went on with the work of regulating her bureau drawers, that Miss Marr had interrupted, begging to be excused as she did so. If Dolly had done the proper thing, the thing that was expected of her, she would have retired behind the screen and gone to bed then and there. But she had no idea of going to bed, so long as there was a light burning, and anybody was stirring; so she dropped down into an easy-chair that stood near the door, and took up a book that was lying on the table. It was a copy of "Le Luthier de Crémone,"—a charming little play by Francois Coppée. Miss Dolly turned the leaves over a moment, then put the volume down, and cast an interested, curious look at Hope, who at that moment was busy arranging her boxes. Dolly had studied French sufficiently to enable her to read some very simple stories, but "Le Luthier de Crémone" was quite beyond her power, and her glance at Hope was compounded of envy and admiration. Hope, without apparently observing her, was yet nervously conscious of every movement, and thought to herself,—
"Oh, dear! why doesn't she go to bed?"
Putting down the book, Dolly's eyes next turned to a certain oblong case that was lying upon a chair near her.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, "do you play the violin?"
"Yes, a little," answered Hope.
"So do I. May I look at your violin?"
Hope hesitated a second, then lifted the instrument from its case. It was not the good little fiddle that she had earned for herself five years ago. That was safely packed away. This was a much more costly fiddle, and had been purchased in Paris for her by a brother of Mr. Kolb, who was an extensive dealer in violins Dolly had taken lessons of an excellent teacher, who was also an excellent judge of a violin, and had chosen hers for her. She had at various times heard him talk about some of the famous old violin-makers, and recognized their names when she heard them spoken. As she took Hope's violin from her hands, she said,—