At the flat that evening Carrie felt a new phase of its atmosphere. Thefact that it was unchanged, while her feelings were different, increasedher knowledge of its character. Minnie, after the good spirits Carriemanifested at first, expected a fair report. Hanson supposed that Carriewould be satisfied.

"Well," he said, as he came in from the hall in his working clothes, andlooked at Carrie through the dining-room door, "how did you make out?"

"Oh," said Carrie, "it's pretty hard. I don't like it."

There was an air about her which showed plainer than any words that shewas both weary and disappointed.

"What sort of work is it?" he asked, lingering a moment as he turnedupon his heel to go into the bathroom.

"Running a machine," answered Carrie.

It was very evident that it did not concern him much, save from the sideof the flat's success. He was irritated a shade because it could nothave come about in the throw of fortune for Carrie to be pleased.

Minnie worked with less elation than she had just before Carrie arrived.The sizzle of the meat frying did not sound quite so pleasing now thatCarrie had reported her discontent. To Carrie, the one relief of thewhole day would have been a jolly home, a sympathetic reception, abright supper table, and some one to say: "Oh, well, stand it a littlewhile. You will get something better," but now this was ashes. Shebegan to see that they looked upon her complaint as unwarranted, andthat she was supposed to work on and say nothing. She knew that she wasto pay four dollars for her board and room, and now she felt that itwould be an exceedingly gloomy round, living with these people.

Minnie was no companion for her sister--she was too old. Her thoughtswere staid and solemnly adapted to a condition. If Hanson had anypleasant thoughts or happy feelings he concealed them. He seemed to doall his mental operations without the aid of physical expression. He wasas still as a deserted chamber. Carrie, on the other hand, had the bloodof youth and some imagination. Her day of love and the mysteries ofcourtship were still ahead. She could think of things she would like todo, of clothes she would like to wear, and of places she would like tovisit. These were the things upon which her mind ran, and it was likemeeting with opposition at every turn to find no one here to call forthor respond to her feelings.

She had forgotten, in considering and explaining the result of her day,that Drouet might come. Now, when she saw how unreceptive these twopeople were, she hoped he would not. She did not know exactly what shewould do or how she would explain to Drouet, if he came. After suppershe changed her clothes. When she was trimly dressed she was rather asweet little being, with large eyes and a sad mouth. Her face expressedthe mingled expectancy, dissatisfaction, and depression she felt. Shewandered about after the dishes were put away, talked a little withMinnie, and then decided to go down and stand in the door at the foot ofthe stairs. If Drouet came, she could meet him there. Her face took onthe semblance of a look of happiness as she put on her hat to go below.

"Carrie doesn't seem to like her place very well," said Minnie to herhusband when the latter came out, paper in hand, to sit in thedining-room a few minutes.

"She ought to keep it for a time, anyhow," said Hanson. "Has she gonedownstairs?"

"Yes," said Minnie.

"I'd tell her to keep it if I were you. She might be here weeks withoutgetting another one."

Minnie said she would, and Hanson read his paper.

"If I were you," he said a little later, "I wouldn't let her stand inthe door down there. It don't look good."

"I'll tell her," said Minnie.

The life of the streets continued for a long time to interest Carrie.She never wearied of wondering where the people in the cars were goingor what their enjoyments were. Her imagination trod a very narrow round,always winding up at points which concerned money, looks, clothes, orenjoyment. She would have a far-off thought of Columbia City now andthen, or an irritating rush of feeling concerning her experiences of thepresent day, but, on the whole, the little world about her enlisted herwhole attention.

The first floor of the building, of which Hanson's flat was the third,was occupied by a bakery, and to this, while she was standing there,Hanson came down to buy a loaf of bread. She was not aware of hispresence until he was quite near her.

"I'm after bread," was all he said as he passed.

The contagion of thought here demonstrated itself. While Hanson reallycame for bread, the thought dwelt with him that now he would see whatCarrie was doing. No sooner did he draw near her with that in mind thanshe felt it. Of course, she had no understanding of what put it into herhead, but, nevertheless, it aroused in her the first shade of realantipathy to him. She knew now that she did not like him. He wassuspicious.

A thought will colour a world for us. The flow of Carrie's meditationshad been disturbed, and Hanson had not long gone upstairs before shefollowed. She had realised with the lapse of the quarter hours thatDrouet was not coming, and somehow she felt a little resentful, a littleas if she had been forsaken--was not good enough. She went upstairs,where everything was silent. Minnie was sewing by a lamp at the table.Hanson had already turned in for the night. In her weariness anddisappointment Carrie did no more than announce that she was going tobed.

"Yes, you'd better," returned Minnie. "You've got to get up early, youknow."

The morning was no better. Hanson was just going out the door as Carriecame from her room. Minnie tried to talk with her during breakfast, butthere was not much of interest which they could mutually discuss. As onthe previous morning, Carrie walked down town, for she began to realisenow that her four-fifty would not even allow her car fare after she paidher board. This seemed a miserable arrangement. But the morning lightswept away the first misgivings of the day, as morning light is everwont to do.

At the shoe factory she put in a long day, scarcely so wearisome as thepreceding, but considerably less novel. The head foreman, on his round,stopped by her machine.

"Where did you come from?" he inquired.

"Mr. Brown hired me," she replied.

"Oh, he did, eh!" and then, "See that you keep things going."

The machine girls impressed her even less favourably. They seemedsatisfied with their lot, and were in a sense "common." Carrie had moreimagination than they. She was not used to slang. Her instinct in thematter of dress was naturally better. She disliked to listen to thegirl next to her, who was rather hardened by experience.

"I'm going to quit this," she heard her remark to her neighbour. "Whatwith the stipend and being up late, it's too much for me health."

They were free with the fellows, young and old, about the place, andexchanged banter in rude phrases, which at first shocked her. She sawthat she was taken to be of the same sort and addressed accordingly.

"Hello," remarked one of the stout-wristed sole-workers to her at noon."You're a daisy." He really expected to hear the common "Aw! go chaseyourself!" in return, and was sufficiently abashed, by Carrie's silentlymoving away, to retreat, awkwardly grinning.

That night at the flat she was even more lonely--the dull situation wasbecoming harder to endure. She could see that the Hansons seldom ornever had any company. Standing at the street door looking out, sheventured to walk out a little way. Her easy gait and idle mannerattracted attention of an offensive but common sort. She was slightlytaken back at the overtures of a well-dressed man of thirty, who inpassing looked at her, reduced his pace, turned back, and said:

"Out for a little stroll, are you, this evening?"

Carrie looked at him in amazement, and then summoned sufficient thoughtto reply: "Why, I don't know you," backing away as she did so.

"Oh, that don't matter," said the other affably.

She bandied no more words with him, but hurried away, reaching her owndoor quite out of breath. There was something in the man's look whichfrightened her.

During the remainder of the week it was very much the same. One or twonights she found herself too tired to walk home, and expended car fare.She was not very strong, and sitting all day affected her back. Shewent to bed one night before Hanson.

Transplantation is not always successful in the matter of flowers ormaidens. It requires sometimes a richer soil, a better atmosphere tocontinue even a natural growth. It would have been better if heracclimatization had been more gradual--less rigid. She would have donebetter if she had not secured a position so quickly, and had seen moreof the city which she constantly troubled to know about.

On the first morning it rained she found that she had no umbrella.Minnie loaned her one of hers, which was worn and faded. There was thekind of vanity in Carrie that troubled at this. She went to one of thegreat department stores and bought herself one, using a dollar and aquarter of her small store to pay for it.

"What did you do that for, Carrie?" asked Minnie, when she saw it.

"Oh, I need one," said Carrie.

"You foolish girl."

Carrie resented this, though she did not reply. She was not going to bea common shop-girl, she thought; they need not think it, either.

On the first Saturday night Carrie paid her board, four dollars. Minniehad a quaver of conscience as she took it, but did not know how toexplain to Hanson if she took less. That worthy gave up just fourdollars less toward the household expenses with a smile of satisfaction.He contemplated increasing his Building and Loan payments. As forCarrie, she studied over the problem of finding clothes and amusement onfifty cents a week. She brooded over this until she was in a state ofmental rebellion.

"I'm going up the street for a walk," she said after supper.

"Not alone, are you?" asked Hanson.

"Yes," returned Carrie.

"I wouldn't," said Minnie.

"I want to see _something_," said Carrie, and by the tone she put intothe last word they realised for the first time she was not pleased withthem.

"What's the matter with her?" asked Hanson, when she went into the frontroom to get her hat.

"I don't know," said Minnie.

"Well, she ought to know better than to want to go out alone."

Carrie did not go very far, after all. She returned and stood in thedoor. The next day they went out to Garfield Park, but it did not pleaseher. She did not look well enough. In the shop next day she heard thehighly coloured reports which girls give of their trivial amusements.They had been happy. On several days it rained and she used up car fare.One night she got thoroughly soaked, going to catch the car at Van BurenStreet. All that evening she sat alone in the front room looking outupon the street, where the lights were reflected on the wet pavements,thinking. She had imagination enough to be moody.

On Saturday she paid another four dollars and pocketed her fifty centsin despair. The speaking acquaintanceship which she formed with some ofthe girls at the shop discovered to her the fact that they had more oftheir earnings to use for themselves than she did. They had young men ofthe kind whom she, since her experience with Drouet, felt above, whotook them about. She came to thoroughly dislike the light-headed youngfellows of the shop. Not one of them had a show of refinement. She sawonly their workday side.

There came a day when the first premonitory blast of winter swept overthe city. It scudded the fleecy clouds in the heavens, trailed long,thin streamers of smoke from the tall stacks, and raced about thestreets and corners in sharp and sudden puffs. Carrie now felt theproblem of winter clothes. What was she to do? She had no winter jacket,no hat, no shoes. It was difficult to speak to Minnie about this, but atlast she summoned the courage.

"I don't know what I'm going to do about clothes," she said one eveningwhen they were together. "I need a hat."

Minnie looked serious.

"Why don't you keep part of your money and buy yourself one?" shesuggested, worried over the situation which the withholding of Carrie'smoney would create.

"I'd like to for a week or so, if you don't mind," ventured Carrie.

"Could you pay two dollars?" asked Minnie.

Carrie readily acquiesced, glad to escape the trying situation, andliberal now that she saw a way out. She was elated and began figuring atonce. She needed a hat first of all. How Minnie explained to Hanson shenever knew. He said nothing at all, but there were thoughts in the airwhich left disagreeable impressions.

The new arrangement might have worked if sickness had not intervened. Itblew up cold after a rain one afternoon when Carrie was still without ajacket. She came out of the warm shop at six and shivered as the windstruck her. In the morning she was sneezing, and going down town made itworse. That day her bones ached and she felt light-headed. Towardsevening she felt very ill, and when she reached home was not hungry.Minnie noticed her drooping actions and asked her about herself.

"I don't know," said Carrie. "I feel real bad."

She hung about the stove, suffered a chattering chill, and went to bedsick. The next morning she was thoroughly feverish.

Minnie was truly distressed at this, but maintained a kindly demeanour.Hanson said perhaps she had better go back home for a while. When shegot up after three days, it was taken for granted that her position waslost. The winter was near at hand, she had no clothes, and now she wasout of work.

"I don't know," said Carrie; "I'll go down Monday and see if I can't getsomething."

If anything, her efforts were more poorly rewarded on this trial thanthe last. Her clothes were nothing suitable for fall wearing. Her lastmoney she had spent for a hat. For three days she wandered about,utterly dispirited. The attitude of the flat was fast becomingunbearable. She hated to think of going back there each evening. Hansonwas so cold. She knew it could not last much longer. Shortly she wouldhave to give up and go home.

On the fourth day she was down town all day, having borrowed ten centsfor lunch from Minnie. She had applied in the cheapest kind of placeswithout success. She even answered for a waitress in a small restaurantwhere she saw a card in the window, but they wanted an experienced girl.She moved through the thick throng of strangers, utterly subdued inspirit. Suddenly a hand pulled her arm and turned her about.

"Well, well!" said a voice. In the first glance she beheld Drouet. Hewas not only rosy-cheeked, but radiant. He was the essence of sunshineand good-humour. "Why, how are you, Carrie?" he said. "You're a daisy.Where have you been?"

Carrie smiled under his irresistible flood of geniality.

"I've been out home," she said.

"Well," he said, "I saw you across the street there. I thought it wasyou. I was just coming out to your place. How are you, anyhow?"

"I'm all right," said Carrie, smiling.

Drouet looked her over and saw something different.

"Well," he said, "I want to talk to you. You're not going anywhere inparticular, are you?"

"Not just now," said Carrie.

"Let's go up here and have something to eat. George! but I'm glad to seeyou again."

She felt so relieved in his radiant presence, so much looked after andcared for, that she assented gladly, though with the slightest air ofholding back.

"Well," he said, as he took her arm--and there was an exuberance ofgood-fellowship in the word which fairly warmed the cockles of herheart.

They went through Monroe Street to the old Windsor dining-room, whichwas then a large, comfortable place, with an excellent cuisine andsubstantial service. Drouet selected a table close by the window, wherethe busy rout of the street could be seen. He loved the changingpanorama of the street--to see and be seen as he dined.

"Now," he said, getting Carrie and himself comfortably settled, "whatwill you have?"

Carrie looked over the large bill of fare which the waiter handed herwithout really considering it. She was very hungry, and the things shesaw there awakened her desires, but the high prices held her attention."Half broiled spring chicken--seventy-five. Sirloin steak withmushrooms--one twenty-five." She had dimly heard of these things, but itseemed strange to be called to order from the list.

"I'll fix this," exclaimed Drouet. "Sst! waiter."

That officer of the board, a full-chested, round-faced negro,approached, and inclined his ear.

"Sirloin with mushrooms," said Drouet. "Stuffed tomatoes."

"Yassah," assented the negro, nodding his head.

"Hashed brown potatoes."

"Yassah."

"Asparagus."

"Yassah."

"And a pot of coffee."

Drouet turned to Carrie. "I haven't had a thing since breakfast. Justgot in from Rock Island. I was going off to dine when I saw you."

Carrie smiled and smiled.

"What have you been doing?" he went on. "Tell me all about yourself. Howis your sister?"

"She's well," returned Carrie, answering the last query.

He looked at her hard.

"Say," he said, "you haven't been sick, have you?"

Carrie nodded.

"Well, now, that's a blooming shame, isn't it? You don't look very well.I thought you looked a little pale. What have you been doing?"

"Working," said Carrie.

"You don't say so! At what?"

She told him.

"Rhodes, Morgenthau and Scott--why, I know that house. Over here onFifth Avenue, isn't it? They're a close-fisted concern. What made you gothere?"

"I couldn't get anything else," said Carrie frankly.

"Well, that's an outrage," said Drouet. "You oughtn't to be working forthose people. Have the factory right back of the store, don't they?"

"Yes," said Carrie.

"That isn't a good house," said Drouet. "You don't want to work atanything like that, anyhow."

He chattered on at a great rate, asking questions, explaining thingsabout himself, telling her what a good restaurant it was, until thewaiter returned with an immense tray, bearing the hot savoury disheswhich had been ordered. Drouet fairly shone in the matter of serving.He appeared to great advantage behind the white napery and silverplatters of the table and displaying his arms with a knife and fork. Ashe cut the meat his rings almost spoke. His new suit creaked as hestretched to reach the plates, break the bread, and pour the coffee. Hehelped Carrie to a rousing plateful and contributed the warmth of hisspirit to her body until she was a new girl. He was a splendid fellow inthe true popular understanding of the term, and captivated Carriecompletely.

That little soldier of fortune took her good turn in an easy way. Shefelt a little out of place, but the great room soothed her and the viewof the well-dressed throng outside seemed a splendid thing. Ah, what wasit not to have money! What a thing it was to be able to come in here anddine! Drouet must be fortunate. He rode on trains, dressed in such niceclothes, was so strong, and ate in these fine places. He seemed quite afigure of a man, and she wondered at his friendship and regard for her.

"So you lost your place because you got sick, eh?" he said. "What areyou going to do now?"

"Look around," she said, a thought of the need that hung outside thisfine restaurant like a hungry dog at her heels passing into her eyes.

"Oh, no," said Drouet, "that won't do. How long have you been looking?"

"Four days," she answered.

"Think of that!" he said, addressing some problematical individual. "Yououghtn't to be doing anything like that. These girls," and he waved aninclusion of all shop and factory girls, "don't get anything. Why, youcan't live on it, can you?"

He was a brotherly sort of creature in his demeanour. When he hadscouted the idea of that kind of toil, he took another tack. Carrie wasreally very pretty. Even then, in her commonplace garb, her figure wasevidently not bad, and her eyes were large and gentle. Drouet looked ather and his thoughts reached home. She felt his admiration. It waspowerfully backed by his liberality and good-humour. She felt that sheliked him--that she could continue to like him ever so much. There wassomething even richer than that, running as a hidden strain, in hermind. Every little while her eyes would meet his, and by that means theinterchanging current of feeling would be fully connected.

"Why don't you stay down town and go to the theatre with me?" he said,hitching his chair closer. The table was not very wide.

"Oh, I can't," she said.

"What are you going to do to-night?"

"Nothing," she answered, a little drearily.

"You don't like out there where you are, do you?"

"Oh, I don't know."

"What are you going to do if you don't get work?"

"Go back home, I guess."

There was the least quaver in her voice as she said this. Somehow, theinfluence he was exerting was powerful. They came to an understanding ofeach other without words--he of her situation, she of the fact that herealised it.

"No," he said, "you can't make it!" genuine sympathy filling his mindfor the time. "Let me help you. You take some of my money."

"Oh, no!" she said, leaning back.

"What are you going to do?" he said.

She sat meditating, merely shaking her head.

He looked at her quite tenderly for his kind. There were some loosebills in his vest pocket--greenbacks. They were soft and noiseless, andhe got his fingers about them and crumpled them up in his hand.

"Come on," he said, "I'll see you through all right. Get yourself someclothes."

It was the first reference he had made to that subject, and now sherealised how bad off she was. In his crude way he had struck thekey-note. Her lips trembled a little.

She had her hand out on the table before her. They were quite alone intheir corner, and he put his larger, warmer hand over it.

"Aw, come, Carrie," he said, "what can you do alone? Let me help you."

He pressed her hand gently and she tried to withdraw it. At this he heldit fast, and she no longer protested. Then he slipped the greenbacks hehad into her palm, and when she began to protest, he whispered:

"I'll loan it to you--that's all right. I'll loan it to you."

He made her take it. She felt bound to him by a strange tie of affectionnow. They went out, and he walked with her far out south toward PolkStreet, talking.

"You don't want to live with those people?" he said in one place,abstractedly. Carrie heard it, but it made only a slight impression.

"Come down and meet me to-morrow," he said, "and we'll go to thematinée. Will you?"

Carrie protested a while, but acquiesced.

"You're not doing anything. Get yourself a nice pair of shoes and ajacket."

She scarcely gave a thought to the complication which would trouble herwhen he was gone. In his presence, she was of his own hopeful,easy-way-out mood.

"Don't you bother about those people out there," he said at parting."I'll help you."

Carrie left him, feeling as though a great arm had slipped out beforeher to draw off trouble. The money she had accepted was two soft, green,handsome ten-dollar bills.