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 civil to us; and as I should not be sorry to make the first advances for a reconciliation, suppose we send down some of the pie to the lying-in lady.’

Madame Seeheim readily accorded with her husband’s proposition; and, as she also knew that Mrs. Heftelmeyer’s name was Sophia, she sent that part of the pie on which the gilt S was placed.

While the servant carried this peace-offering down stairs, the worthy pastor was felicitating himself and his spouse upon what they had done. ‘There would not,’ he said, ‘be half so many quarrels in the world, nor would they last half as long, if people would be willing to accommodate their differences. I am sure we shall not have cause to repent this.’

Alas! how differently did the events turn out from what the parson had predicted. The tailor had no sooner set his eyes upon the dish with the pie in it, than he rushed by the servant, without hearing her message, and ran up stairs to his neighbour’s room, which he entered very abruptly.

‘How is this, sir,’ he cried; ‘do you mean to insult me by this treatment?’

‘Is it possible you can imagine that I mean to do so?’ said the pastor, mildly.

‘How can I think otherwise,’ said the angry tailor; ‘and how can I guess what has induced a man of your character and years to play so wanton a school-boy’s trick?’

‘I really don’t understand you,’ replied Mr. Seeheim; ‘but as your behaviour and language is very offensive, I beg it may cease. If this is the return you make to an act of politeness and good will, I shall take care not to repeat it.’

‘Politeness and good will, indeed!’ cried the angry tailor; ‘you shall see, sir, what the magistrate will say to such politeness’—and he bounced out of the chamber.

Mr. Seeheim could only think that his neighbour had gone mad; and, as he saw him go out of doors soon after, he expressed a very sincere hope that he would