Once across the river and into the wholesale district, she glanced abouther for some likely door at which to apply. As she contemplated the widewindows and imposing signs, she became conscious of being gazed upon andunderstood for what she was--a wage-seeker. She had never done thisthing before, and lacked courage. To avoid a certain indefinable shameshe felt at being caught spying about for a position, she quickened hersteps and assumed an air of indifference supposedly common to one uponan errand. In this way she passed many manufacturing and wholesalehouses without once glancing in. At last, after several blocks ofwalking, she felt that this would not do, and began to look about again,though without relaxing her pace. A little way on she saw a great doorwhich, for some reason, attracted her attention. It was ornamented by asmall brass sign, and seemed to be the entrance to a vast hive of six orseven floors. "Perhaps," she thought, "they may want some one," andcrossed over to enter. When she came within a score of feet of thedesired goal, she saw through the window a young man in a grey checkedsuit. That he had anything to do with the concern, she could not tell,but because he happened to be looking in her direction her weakeningheart misgave her and she hurried by, too overcome with shame to enter.Over the way stood a great six-story structure, labelled Storm and King,which she viewed with rising hope. It was a wholesale dry goods concernand employed women. She could see them moving about now and then uponthe upper floors. This place she decided to enter, no matter what. Shecrossed over and walked directly toward the entrance. As she did so, twomen came out and paused in the door. A telegraph messenger in bluedashed past her and up the few steps that led to the entrance anddisappeared. Several pedestrians out of the hurrying throng which filledthe sidewalks passed about her as she paused, hesitating. She lookedhelplessly around, and then, seeing herself observed, retreated. It wastoo difficult a task. She could not go past them.

So severe a defeat told sadly upon her nerves. Her feet carried hermechanically forward, every foot of her progress being a satisfactoryportion of a flight which she gladly made. Block after block passed by.Upon street-lamps at the various corners she read names such as Madison,Monroe, La Salle, Clark, Dearborn, State, and still she went, her feetbeginning to tire upon the broad stone flagging. She was pleased in partthat the streets were bright and clean. The morning sun, shining downwith steadily increasing warmth, made the shady side of the streetspleasantly cool. She looked at the blue sky overhead with morerealisation of its charm than had ever come to her before.

Her cowardice began to trouble her in a way. She turned back, resolvingto hunt up Storm and King and enter. On the way she encountered a greatwholesale shoe company, through the broad plate windows of which she sawan enclosed executive department, hidden by frosted glass. Without thisenclosure, but just within the street entrance, sat a grey-hairedgentleman at a small table, with a large open ledger before him. Shewalked by this institution several times hesitating, but, findingherself unobserved, faltered past the screen door and stood humblywaiting.

"Well, young lady," observed the old gentleman, looking at her somewhatkindly, "what is it you wish?"

"I am, that is, do you--I mean, do you need any help?" she stammered.

"Not just at present," he answered smiling. "Not just at present. Comein some time next week. Occasionally we need some one."

She received the answer in silence and backed awkwardly out. Thepleasant nature of her reception rather astonished her. She had expectedthat it would be more difficult, that something cold and harsh would besaid--she knew not what. That she had not been put to shame and made tofeel her unfortunate position, seemed remarkable.

Somewhat encouraged, she ventured into another large structure. It was aclothing company, and more people were in evidence--well-dressed men offorty and more, surrounded by brass railings.

An office boy approached her.

"Who is it you wish to see?" he asked.

"I want to see the manager," she said.

He ran away and spoke to one of a group of three men who were conferringtogether. One of these came towards her.

"Well?" he said coldly. The greeting drove all courage from her at once.

"Do you need any help?" she stammered.

"No," he replied abruptly, and turned upon his heel.

She went foolishly out, the office boy deferentially swinging the doorfor her, and gladly sank into the obscuring crowd. It was a severesetback to her recently pleased mental state.

Now she walked quite aimlessly for a time, turning here and there,seeing one great company after another, but finding no courage toprosecute her single inquiry. High noon came, and with it hunger. Shehunted out an unassuming restaurant and entered, but was disturbed tofind that the prices were exorbitant for the size of her purse. A bowlof soup was all that she could afford, and, with this quickly eaten, shewent out again. It restored her strength somewhat and made hermoderately bold to pursue the search.

In walking a few blocks to fix upon some probable place, she againencountered the firm of Storm and King, and this time managed to get in.Some gentlemen were conferring close at hand, but took no notice of her.She was left standing, gazing nervously upon the floor. When the limitof her distress had been nearly reached, she was beckoned to by a man atone of the many desks within the near-by railing.

"Who is it you wish to see?" he inquired.

"Why, any one, if you please," she answered. "I am looking for somethingto do."

"Oh, you want to see Mr. McManus," he returned. "Sit down," and hepointed to a chair against the neighbouring wall. He went on leisurelywriting, until after a time a short, stout gentleman came in from thestreet.

"Mr. McManus," called the man at the desk, "this young woman wants tosee you."

The short gentleman turned about towards Carrie, and she arose and cameforward.

"What can I do for you, miss?" he inquired, surveying her curiously.

"I want to know if I can get a position," she inquired.

"As what?" he asked.

"Not as anything in particular," she faltered.

"Have you ever had any experience in the wholesale dry goods business?"he questioned.

"No, sir," she replied.

"Are you a stenographer or typewriter?"

"No, sir."

"Well, we haven't anything here," he said. "We employ only experiencedhelp."

She began to step backward toward the door, when something about herplaintive face attracted him.

"Have you ever worked at anything before?" he inquired.

"No, sir," she said.

"Well, now, it's hardly possible that you would get anything to do in awholesale house of this kind. Have you tried the department stores?"

She acknowledged that she had not.

"Well, if I were you," he said, looking at her rather genially, "I wouldtry the department stores. They often need young women as clerks."

"Thank you," she said, her whole nature relieved by this spark offriendly interest.

"Yes," he said, as she moved toward the door, "you try the departmentstores," and off he went.

At that time the department store was in its earliest form of successfuloperation, and there were not many. The first three in the UnitedStates, established about 1884, were in Chicago. Carrie was familiarwith the names of several through the advertisements in the "DailyNews," and now proceeded to seek them. The words of Mr. McManus hadsomehow managed to restore her courage, which had fallen low, and shedared to hope that this new line would offer her something. Some timeshe spent in wandering up and down, thinking to encounter the buildingsby chance, so readily is the mind, bent upon prosecuting a hard butneedful errand, eased by that self-deception which the semblance ofsearch, without the reality, gives. At last she inquired of a policeofficer, and was directed to proceed "two blocks up," where she wouldfind "The Fair."

The nature of these vast retail combinations, should they everpermanently disappear, will form an interesting chapter in thecommercial history of our nation. Such a flowering out of a modest tradeprinciple the world had never witnessed up to that time. They were alongthe line of the most effective retail organisation, with hundreds ofstores coördinated into one and laid out upon the most imposing andeconomic basis. They were handsome, bustling, successful affairs, with ahost of clerks and a swarm of patrons. Carrie passed along the busyaisles, much affected by the remarkable displays of trinkets, dressgoods, stationery, and jewelry. Each separate counter was a show placeof dazzling interest and attraction. She could not help feeling theclaim of each trinket and valuable upon her personally, and yet she didnot stop. There was nothing there which she could not have used--nothingwhich she did not long to own. The dainty slippers and stockings, thedelicately frilled skirts and petticoats, the laces, ribbons,hair-combs, purses, all touched her with individual desire, and she feltkeenly the fact that not any of these things were in the range of herpurchase. She was a work-seeker, an outcast without employment, one whomthe average employee could tell at a glance was poor and in need of asituation.

It must not be thought that any one could have mistaken her for anervous, sensitive, high-strung nature, cast unduly upon a cold,calculating, and unpoetic world. Such certainly she was not. But womenare peculiarly sensitive to their adornment.

Not only did Carrie feel the drag of desire for all which was new andpleasing in apparel for women, but she noticed too, with a touch at theheart, the fine ladies who elbowed and ignored her, brushing past inutter disregard of her presence, themselves eagerly enlisted in thematerials which the store contained. Carrie was not familiar with theappearance of her more fortunate sisters of the city. Neither had shebefore known the nature and appearance of the shop girls with whom shenow compared poorly. They were pretty in the main, some even handsome,with an air of independence and indifference which added, in the case ofthe more favoured, a certain piquancy. Their clothes were neat, in manyinstances fine, and wherever she encountered the eye of one it was onlyto recognise in it a keen analysis of her own position--her individualshortcomings of dress and that shadow of _manner_ which she thought musthang about her and make clear to all who and what she was. A flame ofenvy lighted in her heart. She realised in a dim way how much the cityheld--wealth, fashion, ease--every adornment for women, and she longedfor dress and beauty with a whole heart.

On the second floor were the managerial offices, to which, after someinquiry, she was now directed. There she found other girls ahead of her,applicants like herself, but with more of that self-satisfied andindependent air which experience of the city lends; girls whoscrutinised her in a painful manner. After a wait of perhapsthree-quarters of an hour, she was called in turn.

"Now," said a sharp, quick-mannered Jew, who was sitting at a roll-topdesk near the window, "have you ever worked in any other store?"

"No, sir," said Carrie.

"Oh, you haven't," he said, eyeing her keenly.

"No, sir," she replied.

"Well, we prefer young women just now with some experience. I guess wecan't use you."

Carrie stood waiting a moment, hardly certain whether the interview hadterminated.

"Don't wait!" he exclaimed. "Remember we are very busy here."

Carrie began to move quickly to the door.

"Hold on," he said, calling her back. "Give me your name and address. Wewant girls occasionally."

When she had gotten safely into the street, she could scarcely restrainthe tears. It was not so much the particular rebuff which she had justexperienced, but the whole abashing trend of the day. She was tired andnervous. She abandoned the thought of appealing to the other departmentstores and now wandered on, feeling a certain safety and relief inmingling with the crowd.

In her indifferent wandering she turned into Jackson Street, not farfrom the river, and was keeping her way along the south side of thatimposing thoroughfare, when a piece of wrapping paper, written on withmarking ink and tacked up on the door, attracted her attention. It read,"Girls wanted--wrappers & stitchers." She hesitated a moment, thenentered.

The firm of Speigelheim & Co., makers of boys' caps, occupied one floorof the building, fifty feet in width and some eighty feet in depth. Itwas a place rather dingily lighted, the darkest portions havingincandescent lights, filled with machines and work benches. At thelatter laboured quite a company of girls and some men. The former weredrabby-looking creatures, stained in face with oil and dust, clad inthin, shapeless, cotton dresses and shod with more or less worn shoes.Many of them had their sleeves rolled up, revealing bare arms, and insome cases, owing to the heat, their dresses were open at the neck. Theywere a fair type of nearly the lowest order of shop-girls--careless,slouchy, and more or less pale from confinement. They were not timid,however; were rich in curiosity, and strong in daring and slang.

Carrie looked about her, very much disturbed and quite sure that shedid not want to work here. Aside from making her uncomfortable bysidelong glances, no one paid her the least attention. She waited untilthe whole department was aware of her presence. Then some word was sentaround, and a foreman, in an apron and shirt sleeves, the latter rolledup to his shoulders, approached.

"Do you want to see me?" he asked.

"Do you need any help?" said Carrie, already learning directness ofaddress.

"Do you know how to stitch caps?" he returned.

"No, sir," she replied.

"Have you ever had any experience at this kind of work?" he inquired.

She answered that she had not.

"Well," said the foreman, scratching his ear meditatively, "we do need astitcher. We like experienced help, though. We've hardly got time tobreak people in." He paused and looked away out of the window. "Wemight, though, put you at finishing," he concluded reflectively.

"How much do you pay a week?" ventured Carrie, emboldened by a certainsoftness in the man's manner and his simplicity of address.

"Three and a half," he answered.

"Oh," she was about to exclaim, but checked herself and allowed herthoughts to die without expression.

"We're not exactly in need of anybody," he went on vaguely, looking herover as one would a package. "You can come on Monday morning, though,"he added, "and I'll put you to work."

"Thank you," said Carrie weakly.

"If you come, bring an apron," he added.

He walked away and left her standing by the elevator, never so much asinquiring her name.

While the appearance of the shop and the announcement of the price paidper week operated very much as a blow to Carrie's fancy, the fact thatwork of any kind was offered after so rude a round of experience wasgratifying. She could not begin to believe that she would take theplace, modest as her aspirations were. She had been used to better thanthat. Her mere experience and the free out-of-door life of the countrycaused her nature to revolt at such confinement. Dirt had never been hershare. Her sister's flat was clean. This place was grimy and low, thegirls were careless and hardened. They must be bad-minded and hearted,she imagined. Still, a place had been offered her. Surely Chicago wasnot so bad if she could find one place in one day. She might findanother and better later.

Her subsequent experiences were not of a reassuring nature, however.From all the more pleasing or imposing places she was turned awayabruptly with the most chilling formality. In others where she appliedonly the experienced were required. She met with painful rebuffs, themost trying of which had been in a manufacturing cloak house, where shehad gone to the fourth floor to inquire.

"No, no," said the foreman, a rough, heavily built individual, wholooked after a miserably lighted workshop, "we don't want any one. Don'tcome here."

With the wane of the afternoon went her hopes, her courage, and herstrength. She had been astonishingly persistent. So earnest an effortwas well deserving of a better reward. On every hand, to her fatiguedsenses, the great business portion grew larger, harder, more stolid inits indifference. It seemed as if it was all closed to her, that thestruggle was too fierce for her to hope to do anything at all. Men andwomen hurried by in long, shifting lines. She felt the flow of the tideof effort and interest--felt her own helplessness without quiterealising the wisp on the tide that she was. She cast about vainly forsome possible place to apply, but found no door which she had thecourage to enter. It would be the same thing all over. The oldhumiliation of her plea, rewarded by curt denial. Sick at heart and inbody, she turned to the west, the direction of Minnie's flat, which shehad now fixed in mind, and began that wearisome, baffled retreat whichthe seeker for employment at nightfall too often makes. In passingthrough Fifth Avenue, south towards Van Buren Street, where she intendedto take a car, she passed the door of a large wholesale shoe house,through the plate-glass window of which she could see a middle-agedgentleman sitting at a small desk. One of those forlorn impulses whichoften grow out of a fixed sense of defeat, the last sprouting of abaffled and uprooted growth of ideas, seized upon her. She walkeddeliberately through the door and up to the gentleman, who looked at herweary face with partially awakened interest.

"What is it?" he said.

"Can you give me something to do?" said Carrie.

"Now, I really don't know," he said kindly. "What kind of work is it youwant--you're not a typewriter, are you?"

"Oh, no," answered Carrie.

"Well, we only employ book-keepers and typewriters here. You might goaround to the side and inquire upstairs. They did want some helpupstairs a few days ago. Ask for Mr. Brown."

She hastened around to the side entrance and was taken up by theelevator to the fourth floor.

"Call Mr. Brown, Willie," said the elevator man to a boy near by.

Willie went off and presently returned with the information that Mr.Brown said she should sit down and that he would be around in a littlewhile.

It was a portion of the stock room which gave no idea of the generalcharacter of the place, and Carrie could form no opinion of the natureof the work.

"So you want something to do," said Mr. Brown, after he inquiredconcerning the nature of her errand. "Have you ever been employed in ashoe factory before?"

"No, sir," said Carrie.

"What is your name?" he inquired, and being informed, "Well, I don'tknow as I have anything for you. Would you work for four and a half aweek?"

Carrie was too worn by defeat not to feel that it was considerable. Shehad not expected that he would offer her less than six. She acquiesced,however, and he took her name and address.

"Well," he said, finally, "you report here at eight o'clock Mondaymorning. I think I can find something for you to do."

He left her revived by the possibilities, sure that she had foundsomething at last. Instantly the blood crept warmly over her body. Hernervous tension relaxed. She walked out into the busy street anddiscovered a new atmosphere. Behold, the throng was moving with alightsome step. She noticed that men and women were smiling. Scraps ofconversation and notes of laughter floated to her. The air was light.People were already pouring out of the buildings, their labour ended forthe day. She noticed that they were pleased, and thoughts of hersister's home and the meal that would be awaiting her quickened hersteps. She hurried on, tired perhaps, but no longer weary of foot. Whatwould not Minnie say! Ah, the long winter in Chicago--the lights, thecrowd, the amusement! This was a great, pleasing metropolis after all.Her new firm was a goodly institution. Its windows were of huge plateglass. She could probably do well there. Thoughts of Drouet returned--ofthe things he had told her. She now felt that life was better, that itwas livelier, sprightlier. She boarded a car in the best of spirits,feeling her blood still flowing pleasantly. She would live in Chicago,her mind kept saying to itself. She would have a better time than shehad ever had before--she would be happy.