David stood on the little grass plot before his master's cottage, also. But he was not in so merry a mood. He was a serious young man with a sweetheart of his own, and he had no time for frivolity or nonsense. Let silly boys caper as they wished. So he pulled down the shutters and never noticed Magdalena, who had slipped out of Veit Pogner's great house across the street and was hastening toward him. The boys snickered and beckoned to one another in great glee. A well-laden basket was on Magdalena's arm, and even her voice had an inviting sound. "David, dear, turn around!" she called. David hastened eagerly to her side. The boys, too, with broad grins overspreading their faces, crept forward on tiptoes to listen. "See, David," they heard Lena say, "here's something nice for you. Take a peep inside. Doesn't that make your mouth water? But tell me first, what of Sir Walter?" "There's nothing much to tell," answered David, quite unconcerned. "He was outsung and outdone!" "Outsung and outdone!" gasped Magdalena. "Take your hands off of my basket. No, sir! None of my goodies for you!" and she flounced off, murmuring: "What's to be done? Oh, what's to be done?" David stared after her. He was dumfounded. But the boys jeered and pointed their fingers at him. They had heard it all. Laughing and singing, they formed a ring, and capered about David, who became very angry, and struck out blindly right and left. But the more he raved and raged, the more they teased and tormented, until, all of a sudden, a tall figure stood before them. It was Hans Sachs, the cobbler. Annoyance was written all over his good-humored face. His honest blue eyes sent out sparks of anger. The boys hung their heads. "What does this mean?" he cried. "To bed! To bed!" The apprentices stole shamefacedly away. "And you"--he continued, taking the crest-fallen David by the ear, "put the new shoes on the lasts and get into the house. No song to-night, sir!" They entered the workshop. All was still on the narrow street for a little while. Eva and her father sauntered homeward from their evening walk. They lingered for a few moments beneath the linden tree before the door, enjoying the evening air. Then they entered the house for supper. Lights glimmered in the windows. A dog barked in the distance. Peace pervaded the quiet town. Hans Sachs appeared again at his workshop door. He flung it open and peered down the street, then he looked up at the sky. The gentle evening breeze fanned his cheeks. How refreshing it was! How pleasant it would be to work out of doors to-night! And, calling David, he ordered him to place his bench, his stool, the light, the tools outside, beneath the tree. "You will not work in this light, Master?" queried David. "Be quiet," retorted Hans Sachs, shortly. "Go to bed!" "Sleep well, Master."