For the next two days Carrie indulged in the most high-flownspeculations.

Her fancy plunged recklessly into privileges and amusements which wouldhave been much more becoming had she been cradled a child of fortune.With ready will and quick mental selection she scattered her meagrefour-fifty per week with a swift and graceful hand. Indeed, as she satin her rocking-chair these several evenings before going to bed andlooked out upon the pleasantly lighted street, this money cleared forits prospective possessor the way to every joy and every bauble whichthe heart of woman may desire. "I will have a fine time," she thought.

Her sister Minnie knew nothing of these rather wild cerebrations, thoughthey exhausted the markets of delight. She was too busy scrubbing thekitchen wood-work and calculating the purchasing power of eighty centsfor Sunday's dinner. When Carrie had returned home, flushed with herfirst success and ready, for all her weariness, to discuss the nowinteresting events which led up to her achievement, the former hadmerely smiled approvingly and inquired whether she would have to spendany of it for car fare. This consideration had not entered in before,and it did not now for long affect the glow of Carrie's enthusiasm.Disposed as she then was to calculate upon that vague basis which allowsthe subtraction of one sum from another without any perceptiblediminution, she was happy.

When Hanson came home at seven o'clock, he was inclined to be a littlecrusty--his usual demeanour before supper. This never showed so much inanything he said as in a certain solemnity of countenance and the silentmanner in which he slopped about. He had a pair of yellow carpetslippers which he enjoyed wearing, and these he would immediatelysubstitute for his solid pair of shoes. This, and washing his face withthe aid of common washing soap until it glowed a shiny red, constitutedhis only preparation for his evening meal. He would then get his eveningpaper and read in silence.

For a young man, this was rather a morbid turn of character, and soaffected Carrie. Indeed, it affected the entire atmosphere of the flat,as such things are inclined to do, and gave to his wife's mind itssubdued and tactful turn, anxious to avoid taciturn replies. Under theinfluence of Carrie's announcement he brightened up somewhat.

"You didn't lose any time, did you?" he remarked, smiling a little.

"No," returned Carrie with a touch of pride.

He asked her one or two more questions and then turned to play with thebaby, leaving the subject until it was brought up again by Minnie at thetable.

Carrie, however, was not to be reduced to the common level ofobservation which prevailed in the flat.

"It seems to be such a large company," she said, at one place. "Greatbig plate-glass windows and lots of clerks. The man I saw said theyhired ever so many people."

"It's not very hard to get work now," put in Hanson, "if you lookright."

Minnie, under the warming influence of Carrie's good spirits and herhusband's somewhat conversational mood, began to tell Carrie of some ofthe well-known things to see--things the enjoyment of which costnothing.

"You'd like to see Michigan Avenue. There are such fine houses. It issuch a fine street."

"Where is 'H. R. Jacob's'?" interrupted Carrie, mentioning one of thetheatres devoted to melodrama which went by that name at the time.

"Oh, it's not very far from here," answered Minnie. "It's in HalsteadStreet, right up here."

"How I'd like to go there. I crossed Halstead Street to-day, didn't I?"

At this there was a slight halt in the natural reply. Thoughts are astrangely permeating factor. At her suggestion of going to the theatre,the unspoken shade of disapproval to the doing of those things whichinvolved the expenditure of money--shades of feeling which arose in themind of Hanson and then in Minnie--slightly affected the atmosphere ofthe table. Minnie answered "yes," but Carrie could feel that going tothe theatre was poorly advocated here. The subject was put off for alittle while until Hanson, through with his meal, took his paper andwent into the front room.

When they were alone, the two sisters began a somewhat freerconversation, Carrie interrupting it to hum a little, as they worked atthe dishes.

"I should like to walk up and see Halstead Street, if it isn't too far,"said Carrie, after a time. "Why don't we go to the theatre to-night?"

"Oh, I don't think Sven would want to go to-night," returned Minnie. "Hehas to get up so early."

"He wouldn't mind--he'd enjoy it," said Carrie.

"No, he doesn't go very often," returned Minnie.

"Well, I'd like to go," rejoined Carrie. "Let's you and me go."

Minnie pondered a while, not upon whether she could or would go--forthat point was already negatively settled with her--but upon some meansof diverting the thoughts of her sister to some other topic.

"We'll go some other time," she said at last, finding no ready means ofescape.

Carrie sensed the root of the opposition at once.

"I have some money," she said. "You go with me."

Minnie shook her head.

"He could go along," said Carrie.

"No," returned Minnie softly, and rattling the dishes to drown theconversation. "He wouldn't."

It had been several years since Minnie had seen Carrie, and in that timethe latter's character had developed a few shades. Naturally timid inall things that related to her own advancement, and especially so whenwithout power or resource, her craving for pleasure was so strong thatit was the one stay of her nature. She would speak for that when silenton all else.

"Ask him," she pleaded softly.

Minnie was thinking of the resource which Carrie's board would add. Itwould pay the rent and would make the subject of expenditure a littleless difficult to talk about with her husband. But if Carrie was goingto think of running around in the beginning there would be a hitchsomewhere. Unless Carrie submitted to a solemn round of industry and sawthe need of hard work without longing for play, how was her coming tothe city to profit them? These thoughts were not those of a cold, hardnature at all. They were the serious reflections of a mind whichinvariably adjusted itself, without much complaining, to suchsurroundings as its industry could make for it.

At last she yielded enough to ask Hanson. It was a half-heartedprocedure without a shade of desire on her part.

"Carrie wants us to go to the theatre," she said, looking in upon herhusband. Hanson looked up from his paper, and they exchanged a mildlook, which said as plainly as anything: "This isn't what we expected."

"I don't care to go," he returned. "What does she want to see?"

"H. R. Jacob's," said Minnie.

He looked down at his paper and shook his head negatively.

When Carrie saw how they looked upon her proposition, she gained a stillclearer feeling of their way of life. It weighed on her, but took nodefinite form of opposition.

"I think I'll go down and stand at the foot of the stairs," she said,after a time.

Minnie made no objection to this, and Carrie put on her hat and wentbelow.

"Where has Carrie gone?" asked Hanson, coming back into the dining-roomwhen he heard the door close.

"She said she was going down to the foot of the stairs," answeredMinnie. "I guess she just wants to look out a while."

"She oughtn't to be thinking about spending her money on theatresalready, do you think?" he said.

"She just feels a little curious, I guess," ventured Minnie. "Everythingis so new."

"I don't know," said Hanson, and went over to the baby, his foreheadslightly wrinkled.

He was thinking of a full career of vanity and wastefulness which ayoung girl might indulge in, and wondering how Carrie could contemplatesuch a course when she had so little, as yet, with which to do.

On Saturday Carrie went out by herself--first toward the river, whichinterested her, and then back along Jackson Street, which was then linedby the pretty houses and fine lawns which subsequently caused it to bemade into a boulevard. She was struck with the evidences of wealth,although there was, perhaps, not a person on the street worth more thana hundred thousand dollars. She was glad to be out of the flat, becausealready she felt that it was a narrow, humdrum place, and that interestand joy lay elsewhere. Her thoughts now were of a more liberalcharacter, and she punctuated them with speculations as to thewhereabouts of Drouet. She was not sure but that he might call anyhowMonday night, and, while she felt a little disturbed at the possibility,there was, nevertheless, just the shade of a wish that he would.

On Monday she arose early and prepared to go to work. She dressedherself in a worn shirt-waist of dotted blue percale, a skirt oflight-brown serge rather faded, and a small straw hat which she had wornall summer at Columbia City. Her shoes were old, and her necktie was inthat crumpled, flattened state which time and much wearing impart. Shemade a very average looking shop-girl with the exception of herfeatures. These were slightly more even than common, and gave her asweet, reserved, and pleasing appearance.

It is no easy thing to get up early in the morning when one is used tosleeping until seven and eight, as Carrie had been at home. She gainedsome inkling of the character of Hanson's life when, half asleep, shelooked out into the dining-room at six o'clock and saw him silentlyfinishing his breakfast. By the time she was dressed he was gone, andshe, Minnie, and the baby ate together, the latter being just old enoughto sit in a high chair and disturb the dishes with a spoon. Her spiritswere greatly subdued now when the fact of entering upon strange anduntried duties confronted her. Only the ashes of all her fine fancieswere remaining--ashes still concealing, nevertheless, a few red embersof hope. So subdued was she by her weakening nerves, that she ate quitein silence, going over imaginary conceptions of the character of theshoe company, the nature of the work, her employer's attitude. She wasvaguely feeling that she would come in contact with the great owners,that her work would be where grave, stylishly dressed men occasionallylook on.

"Well, good luck," said Minnie, when she was ready to go. They hadagreed it was best to walk, that morning at least, to see if she coulddo it every day--sixty cents a week for car fare being quite an itemunder the circumstances.

"I'll tell you how it goes to-night," said Carrie.

Once in the sunlit street, with labourers tramping by in eitherdirection, the horse-cars passing crowded to the rails with the smallclerks and floor help in the great wholesale houses, and men and womengenerally coming out of doors and passing about the neighbourhood,Carrie felt slightly reassured. In the sunshine of the morning, beneaththe wide, blue heavens, with a fresh wind astir, what fears, except themost desperate, can find a harbourage? In the night, or the gloomychambers of the day, fears and misgivings wax strong, but out in thesunlight there is, for a time, cessation even of the terror of death.

Carrie went straight forward until she crossed the river, and thenturned into Fifth Avenue. The thoroughfare, in this part, was like awalled cañon of brown stone and dark red brick. The big windows lookedshiny and clean. Trucks were rumbling in increasing numbers; men andwomen, girls and boys were moving onward in all directions. She metgirls of her own age, who looked at her as if with contempt for herdiffidence. She wondered at the magnitude of this life and at theimportance of knowing much in order to do anything in it at all. Dreadat her own inefficiency crept upon her. She would not know how, shewould not be quick enough. Had not all the other places refused herbecause she did not know something or other? She would be scolded,abused, ignominiously discharged.

It was with weak knees and a slight catch in her breathing that she cameup to the great shoe company at Adams and Fifth Avenue and entered theelevator. When she stepped out on the fourth floor there was no one athand, only great aisles of boxes piled to the ceiling. She stood, verymuch frightened, awaiting some one.

Presently Mr. Brown came up. He did not seem to recognise her.

"What is it you want?" he inquired.

Carrie's heart sank.

"You said I should come this morning to see about work----"

"Oh," he interrupted. "Um--yes. What is your name?"

"Carrie Meeber."

"Yes," said he. "You come with me."

He led the way through dark, box-lined aisles which had the smell of newshoes, until they came to an iron door which opened into the factoryproper. There was a large, low-ceiled room, with clacking, rattlingmachines at which men in white shirt sleeves and blue gingham apronswere working. She followed him diffidently through the clatteringautomatons, keeping her eyes straight before her, and flushing slightly.They crossed to a far corner and took an elevator to the sixth floor.Out of the array of machines and benches, Mr. Brown signalled a foreman.

"This is the girl," he said, and turning to Carrie, "You go with him."He then returned, and Carrie followed her new superior to a little deskin a corner, which he used as a kind of official centre.

"You've never worked at anything like this before, have you?" hequestioned, rather sternly.

"No, sir," she answered.

He seemed rather annoyed at having to bother with such help, but putdown her name and then led her across to where a line of girls occupiedstools in front of clacking machines. On the shoulder of one of thegirls who was punching eye-holes in one piece of the upper, by the aidof the machine, he put his hand.

"You," he said, "show this girl how to do what you're doing. When youget through, come to me."

The girl so addressed rose promptly and gave Carrie her place.

"It isn't hard to do," she said, bending over. "You just take this so,fasten it with this clamp, and start the machine."

She suited action to word, fastened the piece of leather, which waseventually to form the right half of the upper of a man's shoe, bylittle adjustable clamps, and pushed a small steel rod at the side ofthe machine. The latter jumped to the task of punching, with sharp,snapping clicks, cutting circular bits of leather out of the side of theupper, leaving the holes which were to hold the laces. After observing afew times, the girl let her work at it alone. Seeing that it was fairlywell done, she went away.

The pieces of leather came from the girl at the machine to her right,and were passed on to the girl at her left. Carrie saw at once that anaverage speed was necessary or the work would pile up on her and allthose below would be delayed. She had no time to look about, and bentanxiously to her task. The girls at her left and right realised herpredicament and feelings, and, in a way, tried to aid her, as much asthey dared, by working slower.

At this task she laboured incessantly for some time, finding relief fromher own nervous fears and imaginings in the humdrum, mechanical movementof the machine. She felt, as the minutes passed, that the room was notvery light. It had a thick odour of fresh leather, but that did notworry her. She felt the eyes of the other help upon her, and troubledlest she was not working fast enough.

Once, when she was fumbling at the little clamp, having made a slighterror in setting in the leather, a great hand appeared before her eyesand fastened the clamp for her. It was the foreman. Her heart thumped sothat she could scarcely see to go on.

"Start your machine," he said, "start your machine. Don't keep the linewaiting."

This recovered her sufficiently and she went excitedly on, hardlybreathing until the shadow moved away from behind her. Then she heaved agreat breath.

As the morning wore on the room became hotter. She felt the need of abreath of fresh air and a drink of water, but did not venture to stir.The stool she sat on was without a back or foot-rest, and she began tofeel uncomfortable. She found, after a time, that her back was beginningto ache. She twisted and turned from one position to another slightlydifferent, but it did not ease her for long. She was beginning to weary.

"Stand up, why don't you?" said the girl at her right, without any formof introduction. "They won't care."

Carrie looked at her gratefully. "I guess I will," she said.

She stood up from her stool and worked that way for a while, but it wasa more difficult position. Her neck and shoulders ached in bending over.

The spirit of the place impressed itself on her in a rough way. She didnot venture to look around, but above the clack of the machine she couldhear an occasional remark. She could also note a thing or two out of theside of her eye.

"Did you see Harry last night?" said the girl at her left, addressingher neighbour.

"No."

"You ought to have seen the tie he had on. Gee, but he was a mark."

"S-s-t," said the other girl, bending over her work. The first,silenced, instantly assumed a solemn face. The foreman passed slowlyalong, eyeing each worker distinctly. The moment he was gone, theconversation was resumed again.

"Say," began the girl at her left, "what jeh think he said?"

"I don't know."

"He said he saw us with Eddie Harris at Martin's last night."

"No!" They both giggled.

A youth with tan-coloured hair, that needed clipping very badly, cameshuffling along between the machines, bearing a basket of leatherfindings under his left arm, and pressed against his stomach. When nearCarrie, he stretched out his right hand and gripped one girl under thearm.

"Aw, let me go," she exclaimed angrily. "Duffer."

He only grinned broadly in return.

"Rubber!" he called back as she looked after him. There was nothing ofthe gallant in him.

Carrie at last could scarcely sit still. Her legs began to tire and shewanted to get up and stretch. Would noon never come? It seemed as if shehad worked an entire day. She was not hungry at all, but weak, and hereyes were tired, straining at the one point where the eye-punch camedown. The girl at the right noticed her squirmings and felt sorry forher. She was concentrating herself too thoroughly--what she did reallyrequired less mental and physical strain. There was nothing to be done,however. The halves of the uppers came piling steadily down. Her handsbegan to ache at the wrists and then in the fingers, and towards thelast she seemed one mass of dull, complaining muscles, fixed in aneternal position and performing a single mechanical movement whichbecame more and more distasteful, until at last it was absolutelynauseating. When she was wondering whether the strain would ever cease,a dull-sounding bell clanged somewhere down an elevator shaft, and theend came. In an instant there was a buzz of action and conversation. Allthe girls instantly left their stools and hurried away in an adjoiningroom, men passed through, coming from some department which opened onthe right. The whirling wheels began to sing in a steadily modifyingkey, until at last they died away in a low buzz. There was an audiblestillness, in which the common voice sounded strange.

Carrie got up and sought her lunch box. She was stiff, a little dizzy,and very thirsty. On the way to the small space portioned off by wood,where all the wraps and lunches were kept, she encountered the foreman,who stared at her hard.

"Well," he said, "did you get along all right?"

"I think so," she replied, very respectfully.

"Um," he replied, for want of something better, and walked on.

Under better material conditions, this kind of work would not have beenso bad, but the new socialism which involves pleasant working conditionsfor employees had not then taken hold upon manufacturing companies.

The place smelled of the oil of the machines and the new leather--acombination which, added to the stale odours of the building, was notpleasant even in cold weather. The floor, though regularly swept everyevening, presented a littered surface. Not the slightest provision hadbeen made for the comfort of the employees, the idea being thatsomething was gained by giving them as little and making the work ashard and unremunerative as possible. What we know of foot-rests,swivel-back chairs, dining-rooms for the girls, clean aprons and curlingirons supplied free, and a decent cloak room, were unthought of. Thewashrooms were disagreeable, crude, if not foul places, and the wholeatmosphere was sordid.

Carrie looked about her, after she had drunk a tinful of water from abucket in one corner, for a place to sit and eat. The other girls hadranged themselves about the windows or the work-benches of those of themen who had gone out. She saw no place which did not hold a couple or agroup of girls, and being too timid to think of intruding herself, shesought out her machine and, seated upon her stool, opened her lunch onher lap. There she sat listening to the chatter and comment about her.It was, for the most part, silly and graced by the current slang.Several of the men in the room exchanged compliments with the girls atlong range.

"Say, Kitty," called one to a girl who was doing a waltz step in a fewfeet of space near one of the windows, "are you going to the ball withme?"

"Look out, Kitty," called another, "you'll jar your back hair."

"Go on, Rubber," was her only comment.

As Carrie listened to this and much more of similar familiar badinageamong the men and girls, she instinctively withdrew into herself. Shewas not used to this type, and felt that there was something hard andlow about it all. She feared that the young boys about would addresssuch remarks to her--boys who, beside Drouet, seemed uncouth andridiculous. She made the average feminine distinction between clothes,putting worth, goodness, and distinction in a dress suit, and leavingall the unlovely qualities and those beneath notice in overalls andjumper.

She was glad when the short half hour was over and the wheels began towhirr again. Though wearied, she would be inconspicuous. This illusionended when another young man passed along the aisle and poked herindifferently in the ribs with his thumb. She turned about, indignationleaping to her eyes, but he had gone on and only once turned to grin.She found it difficult to conquer an inclination to cry.

The girl next her noticed her state of mind. "Don't you mind," she said."He's too fresh."

Carrie said nothing, but bent over her work. She felt as though shecould hardly endure such a life. Her idea of work had been so entirelydifferent. All during the long afternoon she thought of the city outsideand its imposing show, crowds, and fine buildings. Columbia City and thebetter side of her home life came back. By three o'clock she was sure itmust be six, and by four it seemed as if they had forgotten to note thehour and were letting all work overtime. The foreman became a true ogre,prowling constantly about, keeping her tied down to her miserable task.What she heard of the conversation about her only made her feel surethat she did not want to make friends with any of these. When sixo'clock came she hurried eagerly away, her arms aching and her limbsstiff from sitting in one position.

As she passed out along the hall after getting her hat, a young machinehand, attracted by her looks, made bold to jest with her.

"Say, Maggie," he called, "if you wait, I'll walk with you."

It was thrown so straight in her direction that she knew who was meant,but never turned to look.

In the crowded elevator, another dusty, toil-stained youth tried to makean impression on her by leering in her face.

One young man, waiting on the walk outside for the appearance ofanother, grinned at her as she passed.

"Ain't going my way, are you?" he called jocosely.

Carrie turned her face to the west with a subdued heart. As she turnedthe corner, she saw through the great shiny window the small desk atwhich she had applied. There were the crowds, hurrying with the samebuzz and energy-yielding enthusiasm. She felt a slight relief, but itwas only at her escape. She felt ashamed in the face of better dressedgirls who went by. She felt as though she should be better served, andher heart revolted.