"Here comes the thou-teacher," cried Franzl, early the next morning, as she was looking out of her kitchen window. The elders of the village called the young schoolmaster the thou-teacher, because, to the great scandal of some good people, he addressed all who were unmarried with the familiar "thou." His companions called him the singing-master,--a title more to his taste. He was the founder and moving spirit of the Liederkranz, and with Lenz, Pilgrim, and Faller made the best quartette. Lenz gave him a hearty welcome, and Franzl begged him to stay a couple of hours to help her receive the numerous visitors who would be sure to come in the course of the morning. "Yes, do stay," urged Lenz. "You cannot think how badly I feel at losing my clock; it is like bidding good by to a brother or a child." "You carry your sentiment too far," objected the schoolmaster, "in thus putting a piece of your heart into everything you make. You will soon start some fresh work. For my part, I do not fancy these wound-up organs, as you know." Franzl made a wry face, but the teacher went on. "They are for children and for a people in its childhood. Even a piano I don't think much of, because the tones are ready-made. A piece of music played on the piano is not much better than the whistling of a song that should be sung. The works of your clocks have tongues and lungs, but no heart." Franzl left the room in indignation. Thank Heaven, there are still Knuslingers in the world, to rate things at their proper value. She heard the two friends within singing the touching song, "Morgen muss ich fort von hier." Lenz's voice was a pure, though not very strong tenor, which the schoolmaster's powerful bass would have drowned had he let out the full force of his voice. They were interrupted by Franzl calling through the open door, "The doctor's family is coming." The school-teacher, as master of ceremonies, advanced in front of the house to receive them. The doctor entered with his wife and three daughters, and said at once, in his kindly way, which, without being in the least dictatorial, yet admitted of no refusal, that Lenz must not waste his valuable time in talking, but must set the clock going without delay. It was done, and all were evidently delighted. When the first piece was finished, Lenz was fairly overwhelmed by the praises bestowed upon him,--such hearty praises, too, evidently not spoken merely from politeness. "Grandmother sends you her congratulations," said the eldest daughter; while Bertha cried, "How many voices in one case!" "Don't you wish you had as many?" replied her father, jokingly. "You have a true talent for music," continued the eldest, her brown eyes shining with honest pleasure. "If my father had only let me have a violin to play on when I was a boy, I really think I might have done something in the way of music," said Lenz. "You have done something now," said the stout doctor, as he laid his hand kindly on the young man's shoulder.