"No, I do not," answered Walter a trifle impatiently, "and that is what I would learn, an it please you."
"Ah, but the rules are the chief thing, good sir! They are not to be learned in a moment, and they are more important than the song itself. No one can be a Master Singer unless he knows the rules by heart. I have been learning both cobbling and singing from Hans Sachs, the shoemaker, and I do assure you, sir, it is no easy task."
"But can you tell me some of these rules?" persisted Walter.
"That can I, as far as I've gone," answered David. "You take your harp so, and hold it so, and you thrum a chord with your thumb sticking up in the air like this. Then you thrust one knee out in advance of the other until you go through your first measure, which must have so many beats and pauses."
"But what has that to do with the music?" cried Walter, almost in despair.
"Oh, everything, I guess!" said David; "only that's about as far as I've studied. But I'll tell you what to do. This very day they are going to hold an examination here in this chapel. You stay and apply for admission into the guild. Then you will see the rules you will have to follow. Here come the 'prentices now to get the chairs in readiness."
As he spoke a number of young men came in and began pushing a curtained platform out into the middle of the room. Around it they placed benches and chairs.
"That is the marker's box," said David, pointing to the platform.
"What is it for?" asked Walter.
"Why the marker sits inside, while the singing is going on, and marks up the mistakes on a slate. When a singer has seven marks against him, the marker declares that he is outsung and outdone."