"An Italian named Montagnana."
"Oh! does he have a shop in London? Did your teacher get it for you there?"
"No, I don't think he was ever in London, even when he was living. But he died a great while ago. He lived in Cremona first, then in Venice."
"In Cremona! How long ago?"
"Well, he was a pupil of Stradivari, and he lived in Cremona in the year 1740, and after he had studied for a time with Stradivari, he went to Venice, where the manufacture of violins was very flourishing."
"What! this is a real Cremona violin?" cried Dolly. "Why—why, Mr. Andrews, my teacher, said that they were very rare, and when you did succeed in getting hold of one that it took a lot of money to buy it."
Hope made no response to this speech; and Dolly, looking up at her, caught the expression of her face, and hastened to say,—
"I didn't mean that I didn't believe it was a Cremona violin; but I was so astonished, you know, because I'd heard Mr. Andrews go on so about Cremona violins."
Hope was old enough now to see that Dolly was honest in her excuse,—that she had really meant no offence,—and, relenting a little, replied,—
"Yes, I suppose it is hard to find a genuine old Cremona; but my first teacher was an old German musician, and his brother, who is a dealer in violins in Paris, procured this for me."