He slipped his left hand up and down the neck, letting his fingers glide gently along the strings.
Aubrey watched him narrowly.
Ronnie lifted the bow; then he paused.

A sudden remembrance seemed to arrest the action in mid-air.
He laid his left hand firmly on the shoulder of the Infant, out of reach of the tempting strings.
"I am not going to play," he said.

"The very first time I really play, must be in the studio, and Helen must be there.

But I will just sound the open strings." He looked down upon the 'cello and waited, the light of expectation brightening in his face.
Aubrey Treherne noted the remarkable correctness of the position he had unconsciously assumed.
Then Ronnie, raising the bow, drew it, with unfaltering touch, across the silver depths of lower C.
A rich, full note, rising, falling, vibrating, filled the room.

The Infant of Prague was singing.