looking out of the kitchen window. His companions called this young man
the "Singing Master"--a title that he liked, for he was, in fact, the
founder of the Choral Society; and when he sung with Lenz, Faller, and
Pilgrim, they were a first rate quartett. Lenz gave him a hearty
welcome, and Franzl begged him to stay with them for a couple of hours,
to assist them in receiving the numerous visitors that were sure to
come on this last day.

"Yes, do stay," said Lenz. "You can't imagine how grieved I am to see
my work depart. I can fancy a person feeling just like that, when a
brother or a child leaves home for foreign parts."

"You go too far," said the Schoolmaster, reprovingly; "you cling with
your whole heart to everything--you have always some fresh object to
devote yourself to! You know I don't care much for musical clocks."
Franzl looked very angry, but the young man continued:--"They are for
children and childish people. I don't even like the piano, because its
tones are already made. Music on the piano is little better than
whistling a song; and as for your clocks and barrel organs, they have
tongues and lungs but no hearts."

Franzl bolted out of the room, very cross. "God be praised, that there
are still Kunslingers in the world, who understand things better!"
She heard them in the next room singing that touching song, "To-morrow
must I leave thee!" Lenz sang a clear, though not a very full, tenor;
and the Schoolmaster could not venture to put forth the energies of his
bass voice, for fear of drowning Lenz's sweeter tones. Franzl
interrupted the song by calling out through the open door--"Here come
the people from the Doctor's."

The Schoolmaster, as master of the ceremonies, went to meet them at the
door.

The Doctor came in, accompanied by his wife and his three daughters,
and immediately said, in his unceremonious way, which had nothing
imperious, but yet admitted of no denial, that Lenz was not to lose his
working hours by talking, but merely set the clock going. He did so,
and they were all evidently delighted. When the first piece was
finished, Lenz cast down his eyes on hearing so much praise, and yet it
was all said in a way which did not require deductions to be made for
politeness.

"Grandmamma desires to be remembered to you," said the eldest daughter;
and Bertha exclaimed--"Fancy a clockcase having so many voices!"

"I suppose you would like to have as many?" said her father, laughing.

Th