midnight
The boy silently transferred the half-pie he had brought from its plate to the shovel . He pulled up a chair and sat down to watch it . The pie began to steam and send out a savory odor ; he himself , in thawing , emitted a stronger and stronger smell of stable . He was not without his disdain for the palate which must have its mince-pie warm at midnight , -- nor without his respect for it , either . This fastidious taste must be part of the splendor which showed itself in Mr. Hubbard 's city-cut clothes , and in his neck-scarfs and the perfection of his finger-nails and mustache . The boy had felt the original impression of these facts deepened rather than effaced by custom ; they were for every day , and not , as he had at first conjectured , for some great occasion only . `` You do n't suppose , Andy , there is such a thing as cold tea or coffee anywhere , that we could warm up ? ''