she had set her mind on a pie which she had seen carried to Madame Seeheim, and in so ostentatious a manner that she had no doubt it was done purposely to mortify her. Amelia ventured to doubt this, and received a reproof for her pains. Mr. Heftelmeyer, like a good husband, consoled his wife with a promise that she should have such a pie as would make their neighbour’s pie blush for very shame.
The court pastry-cook was an artist not less distinguished in his line than the court tailor, and quite as proud of his productions. To this important personage Mr. Heftelmeyer applied, and ordered a pie for the following Sunday, enjoining the pastry-cook, at the same time, to put upon the top of it, by way of ornament, a letter S finely gilded; which was meant by the gallant tailor to be a compliment to his spouse, whose baptismal name was Sophia. The pastry-cook in vain represented that such a decoration was by no means in good taste—it was Mr. Heftelmeyer’s taste; and as he had to pay for the pie, and to eat it afterwards, he had surely a right to follow his own vagaries. The pastry-cook saw that a man might make good coats, yet know nothing of the true principles of taste; so he shrugged up his shoulders, and set about making the pie.
Sunday came, and the pie was brought home—nothing could be better timed, for Madame Heftelmeyer had been put to bed just six days before; and this proof of attention on the part of her husband, was, he thought, sure to be taken in good part. He enjoined silence to all his household, and intended to make his present a surprise to his wife. He had it placed on a table in the anti-chamber, and left the door open, in order that Madame Seeheim might be sure to see it as she passed down stairs. Unluckily the good lady did not go out at all, so this part of the scheme was frustrated. Mr. Seeheim, however, who was gone to church, must see it as he came home, and so the door was still left open.
Before Mr. Seeheim’s return, however, an old woman, who was in the habit of asking alms, came up
S 3
