ring. On the
pot was a piece of paper, and on the paper was--

_porter
good for the helth
it makes meet_

This time the little seamstress shut her window with a bang of
indignation. The color rose to her pale cheeks. She thought that she
would go down to see the janitor at once. Then she remembered the seven
flights of stairs; and she resolved to see the janitor in the morning.
Then she went to bed, and saw the mug drawn back just as it had been
drawn back the night before.

The morning came, but somehow the seamstress did not care to complain to
the janitor. She hated to make trouble--and the janitor might
think--and--and--well, if the wretch did it again she would speak to him
herself, and that would settle it. And so on the next night, which was a
Thursday, the little seamstress sat down by her window, resolved to
settle the matter. And she had not sat there long, rocking in the
creaking little rocking-chair which she had brought with her from her
old home, when the pewter pot hove in sight, with a piece of paper on
the top. This time the legend read:--

_Perhaps you are afrade i will
adress you
i am not that kind_

The seamstress did not quite know whether to laugh or to cry. But she
felt that the time had come for speech. She leaned out of her window and
addressed the twilight heaven.

"Mr.--Mr.--sir--I--will you _please_ put your head out of the window so
that I can speak to you?"

The silence of the other room was undisturbed. The seamstress drew back,
blushing. But before she could nerve herself for another attack, a piece
of paper appeared on the end of the two-foot rule.

_when i Say a thing i
mene it
i have Sed i would not
Adress you and i
Will not_

What was the little seamstress to do? She stood by the window and
thought hard about it. Should she complain to the janitor? But the
creature was perfectly respectful. No doubt he meant to be kind. He
certainly was kind, to waste these pots of porter on her. She remembered
the last time--and the first--that she had drunk porter. It was at home,
when she was a young girl, after she had the diphtheria. She remembered
how good it was, and how it had given her back her strength. And without
one thought of what she was doing, she lifted the pot of porter and took
one little reminiscent sip--two little reminiscent sips--and became
aware of her utter fall and defeat. She blushed now as she had never
blushed b