For the next two days Carrie indulged in the most high-flown speculations¹.

Her fancy plunged² recklessly into privileges and amusements which would have been much more becoming had she been cradled a child of fortune. With ready will and quick mental selection she scattered³ her meagre four-fifty per week with a swift and graceful⁴ hand. Indeed, as she sat in her rocking-chair these several evenings before going to bed and looked out upon the pleasantly lighted street, this money cleared for its prospective⁵ possessor the way to every joy and every bauble⁶ which the heart of woman may desire. "I will have a fine time," she thought.

Her sister Minnie knew nothing of these rather wild cerebrations, though they exhausted⁷ the markets of delight. She was too busy scrubbing the kitchen woodwork and calculating the purchasing power of eighty cents for Sunday's dinner. When Carrie had returned home, flushed with her first success and ready, for all her weariness, to discuss the now interesting events which led up to her achievement, the former had merely smiled approvingly and inquired whether she would have to spend any 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 allows the subtraction⁸ of one sum from another without any perceptible diminution⁹, she was happy.

When Hanson came home at seven o'clock, he was inclined to be a little crusty--his usual demeanour before supper. This never showed so much in anything he said as in a certain solemnity of countenance¹⁰ and the silent manner in which he slopped about. He had a pair of yellow carpet slippers¹¹ which he enjoyed wearing, and these he would immediately substitute for his solid pair of shoes. This, and washing his face with the aid of common washing soap until it glowed a shiny red, constituted his only preparation for his evening meal. He would then get his evening paper and read in silence.

For a young man, this was rather a morbid¹² turn of character, and so affected¹³ Carrie. Indeed, it affected the entire atmosphere of the flat, as such things are inclined to do, and gave to his wife's mind its subdued¹⁴ and tactful turn, anxious to avoid taciturn replies. Under the influence 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 the baby, leaving the subject until it was brought up again by Minnie at the table.

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

"It seems to be such a large company," she said, at one place.

"Great big plate-glass windows and lots of clerks. The man I saw said they hired ever so many people."

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

Minnie, under the warming influence of Carrie's good spirits and her husband's somewhat conversational¹⁵ mood, began to tell Carrie of some of the well-known things to see--things the enjoyment¹⁶ of which cost nothing.

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

"Where is H. R. Jacob's?" interrupted Carrie, mentioning one of the theatres devoted¹⁷ to melodrama¹⁸ which went by that name at the time.

"Oh, it's not very far from here," answered Minnie. "It's in Halstead Street, 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 a strangely permeating¹⁹ factor. At her suggestion of going to the theatre, the unspoken shade of disapproval²⁰ to the doing of those things which involved the expenditure²¹ of money--shades of feeling which arose in the mind of Hanson and then in Minnie-- slightly affected the atmosphere of the table. Minnie answered "yes," but Carrie could feel that going to the theatre was poorly advocated here. The subject was put off for a little while until Hanson, through with his meal, took his paper and went into the front room.

When they were alone, the two sisters began a somewhat freer conversation, Carrie interrupting it to hum a little, as they worked at the 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. "He has 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--for that point was already negatively settled with her--but upon some means of diverting the thoughts of her sister to some other topic.

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

Carrie sensed the root of the opposition²² 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 rattling²³ the dishes to drown the conversation. "He wouldn't."

It had been several years since Minnie had seen Carrie, and in that time the latter's character had developed a few shades. Naturally timid in all things that related to her own advancement²⁴, and especially so when without power or resource, her craving²⁵ for pleasure was so strong that it was the one stay of her nature. She would speak for that when silent on all else.

"Ask him," she pleaded softly.

Minnie was thinking of the resource which Carrie's board would add. It would pay the rent and would make the subject of expenditure a little less difficult to talk about with her husband. But if Carrie was going to think of running around in the beginning there would be a hitch²⁶ somewhere. Unless Carrie submitted to a solemn round of industry and saw the need of hard

work without longing²⁷ for play, how was her coming to the city to profit them? These thoughts were not those of a cold, hard nature at all. They were the serious reflections of a mind which invariably adjusted itself, without much complaining, to such surroundings as its industry could make for it.

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

"Carrie wants us to go to the theatre," she said, looking in upon her husband. Hanson looked up from his paper, and they exchanged a mild look, 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 still clearer feeling of their way of life. It weighed on her, but took no definite 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 went below.

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

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

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

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

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

He was thinking of a full career of vanity and wastefulness²⁸ which a young girl might indulge in, and wondering how Carrie could contemplate²⁹ such a course when she had so little, as yet, with which to do.

On Saturday Carrie went out by herself--first toward the river, which interested her, and then back along Jackson Street, which was then lined by the pretty houses and fine lawns which subsequently caused it to be made into a boulevard. She was struck with the evidences of wealth, although there was, perhaps, not a person on the street worth more than a hundred thousand dollars. She was glad to be out of the flat, because already she felt that it was a narrow, humdrum³⁰ place, and that interest and joy lay elsewhere. Her thoughts now were of a more liberal character, and she punctuated³¹ them with speculations as to the whereabouts of Drouet. She was not sure but that he might call anyhow Monday 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 dressed herself in a worn shirt-waist of dotted blue percale, a skirt of light-brown serge rather faded, and a small straw hat which she had worn all summer at Columbia City. Her shoes were old, and her necktie was in that crumpled³², flattened³³ state which time and much wearing impart. She made a very average looking shop-girl with the exception of her features. These were slightly more even than common, and gave her a sweet, reserved, and pleasing appearance.

It is no easy thing to get up early in the morning when one is used to sleeping until seven and eight, as Carrie had been at home. She gained some inkling of the character of Hanson's life when, half asleep, she looked out into the dining-room at six o'clock and saw him silently finishing his breakfast. By the time she was dressed he was gone, and she, Minnie, and the baby ate together, the latter being just old enough to sit in a high chair and disturb the dishes with a spoon. Her spirits were greatly subdued now when the fact of entering upon strange and untried duties confronted her. Only the ashes of all her fine fancies were remaining--ashes still concealing³⁴, nevertheless, a few red embers of hope. So subdued was she by her weakening nerves, that she ate quite in silence going over imaginary conceptions of the character of the shoe company, the nature of the work, her employer's attitude. She was vaguely³⁵ feeling that she would come in contact with the great owners, that her work would be where grave, stylishly³⁶ dressed men occasionally look on.

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

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

Once in the sunlit street, with labourers tramping by in either direction, the horse-cars passing crowded to the rails with the small clerks and floor help in the great wholesale³⁷ houses, and men and women generally coming out of doors and passing about the neighbourhood, Carrie felt slightly reassured³⁸. In the sunshine of the morning, beneath the wide, blue heavens, with a fresh wind astir, what fears, except the most desperate, can find a harbourage? In the night, or the gloomy chambers³⁹ of the day, fears and misgivings⁴⁰ wax strong, but out in the sunlight there is, for a time, cessation even of the terror of death.

Carrie went straight forward until she crossed the river, and then turned into Fifth Avenue. The thoroughfare, in this part, was like a walled canon of brown stone and dark red brick. The big windows looked shiny and clean. Trucks were rumbling⁴¹ in increasing numbers; men and women, girls and boys were moving onward⁴² in all directions. She met girls of her own age, who looked at her as if with contempt for her diffidence. She wondered at the magnitude of this life and at the importance of knowing much in order to do anything in it at all. Dread⁴³ at her own inefficiency⁴⁴ crept upon her. She would not know how, she would not be quick enough. Had not all the other places refused her because she did not know something or other? She would be scolded, abused, ignominiously⁴⁵ discharged.

It was with weak knees and a slight catch in her breathing that she came up to the great shoe company at Adams and Fifth Avenue and entered the elevator. When she stepped out on the fourth floor there was no one at hand, only great aisles⁴⁷ of boxes piled to the ceiling. She stood, very much frightened, awaiting some one.

Presently Mr. Brown came up. He did not seem to recosnise 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 new shoes, until they came to an iron door which opened into the factory proper. There was a large, low-ceiled room, with clacking, rattling machines at which men in white shirt sleeves and blue gingham aprons⁴⁸ were working. She followed him diffidently through the clattering⁴⁹ automatons⁵⁰, 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 desk in a corner, which he used as a kind of official centre.

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

"No, sir," she answered.

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

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

The girl so addressed rose promptly⁵¹ 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 was eventually to form the right half of the upper of a man's shoe, by little adjustable⁵² clamps, and pushed a small steel rod at the side of the machine. The latter jumped to the task of punching, with sharp, snapping clicks, cutting circular bits of leather out of the side of the upper, leaving the holes which were to hold the laces. After observing a few times, the girl let her work at it alone. Seeing that it was fairly well 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 an average speed was necessary or the work would pile up on her and all those below would be delayed. She had no time to look about, and bent⁵³ anxiously to her task. The girls at her left and right realised her predicament and feelings, and, in a way, tried to aid her, as much as they dared, by working slower.

At this task she laboured incessantly⁵⁴ for some time, finding relief from her own nervous fears and imaginings in the humdrum, mechanical movement of the machine. She felt, as the minutes passed, that the room was not very light. It had a thick odour of fresh leather, but that did not worry her. She felt the eyes of the other help upon her, and troubled lest she was not working fast enough.

Once, when she was fumbling⁵⁵ at the little clamp, having made a slight error in setting in the leather, a great hand appeared before her eyes and fastened the clamp for her. It was the foreman. Her heart thumped⁵⁶ so that she could scarcely see to go on.

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

This recovered her sufficiently⁵⁷ and she went excitedly on, hardly breathing until the shadow moved away from behind her. Then she heaved a great breath.

As the morning wore on the room became hotter. She felt the need of a breath 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 to feel uncomfortable. She found, after a time, that her back was beginning to ache. She twisted and turned from one position to another slightly different, 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 form of 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 was a 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 did not venture to look around, but above the clack of the machine she could hear an occasional remark. She could also note a thing or two out of the side of her eye.

"Did you see Harry⁵⁸ last night?" said the girl at her left, addressing her neighbour.

"No."

"You ought to have seen the tie he had on. Gee⁵⁹, 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 slowly along, eyeing each worker distinctly. The moment he was gone, the conversation 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 giggled⁶⁰.

A youth with tan-coloured hair, that needed clipping very badly, came shuffling⁶¹ along between the machines, bearing a basket of leather findings under his left arm, and pressed against his stomach. When near Carrie, he stretched out his right hand and gripped one girl under the arm.

"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 of the gallant⁶² in him.

Carrie at last could scarcely sit still. Her legs began to tire and she wanted to get up and stretch. Would noon never come? It seemed as if she had worked an entire day. She was not hungry at all, but weak, and her eyes were tired, straining at the one point where the eye-punch came down. The girl at the right noticed her squirmings and felt sorry for her. She was concentrating herself too thoroughly--what she did really required less mental and physical strain. There was nothing to be done, however. The halves of the uppers came piling steadily⁶³ down. Her hands began to ache at the wrists and then in the fingers, and towards the last she seemed one mass of dull, complaining muscles, fixed⁶⁴ in an eternal position and performing a single mechanical movement which became more and more distasteful, until as last it was absolutely nauseating⁶⁵. When she was wondering whether the strain would ever cease, a dull- sounding bell clanged somewhere down an elevator shaft⁶⁶, and the end came. In an instant there was a buzz of action and conversation. All the girls instantly left their stools and hurried away in an adjoining room, men passed through, coming from some department which opened on the right. The whirling wheels began to sing in a steadily modifying key, until at last they died away in a low buzz. There was an audible stillness, 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 been so bad, but the new socialism which involves pleasant working conditions for employees had not then taken hold upon manufacturing companies.

The place smelled of the oil of the machines and the new leather--a combination which, added to the stale odours of the building, was not pleasant even in cold weather. The floor, though regularly swept every evening, presented a littered surface. Not the slightest provision had been made for the comfort of the employees, the idea being that something was gained by giving them as little and making the work as hard and unremunerative as possible. What we know of foot-rests, swivel-back chairs, dining-rooms for the girls, clean aprons and curling irons supplied free, and a decent cloak room, were unthought of. The washrooms were disagreeable, crude, if not foul⁶⁷ places, and the whole atmosphere was sordid⁶⁸.

Carrie looked about her, after she had drunk a tinful of water from a bucket in one corner, for a place to sit and eat. The other girls had ranged themselves about the windows or the work-benches of those of the men who had gone out. She saw no place which did not hold a couple or a group of girls, and being too timid to think of intruding⁶⁹ herself, she sought out her machine and, seated upon her stool, opened her lunch on her lap. There she sat listening to the chatter⁷⁰ 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 at long range.

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

"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 badinage⁷¹ among the men and girls, she instinctively⁷² withdrew into herself. She was not used to this type, and felt that there was something hard and low about it all. She feared that the young boys about would address such remarks to her--boys who, beside Drouet, seemed uncouth⁷³ and ridiculous. She made the average feminine distinction between clothes, putting worth, goodness, and distinction in a dress suit, and leaving all the unlovely qualities and those beneath notice in overalls⁷⁴ and jumper.

She was glad when the short half hour was over and the wheels began to whirr again. Though wearied, she would be inconspicuous. This illusion ended when another young man passed along the aisle⁴⁶ and poked⁷⁵ her indifferently in the ribs⁷⁶ with his thumb. She turned about, indignation leaping to her eyes, but he had gone on and only once turned to grin. She found it difficult to conquer an inclination⁷⁷ 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 she could hardly endure such a life. Her idea of work had been so entirely⁷⁸ different. All during the long afternoon she thought of the city outside and its imposing⁷⁹ show, crowds, and fine buildings. Columbia City and the better side of her home life came back. By three o'clock she was sure it must be six, and by four it seemed as if they had forgotten to note the hour and were letting all work overtime⁸⁰. The foreman became a true ogre, prowling constantly about, keeping her tied down to her miserable⁸¹ task. What she heard of the conversation about her only made her feel sure that she did not want to make friends with any of these. When six o'clock came she hurried eagerly away, her arms aching and her limbs stiff from sitting in one position.

As she passed out along the hall after getting her hat, a young machine hand, 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 make an impression on her by leering in her face.

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

"Ain't going my way, are you?" he called jocosely⁸².

Carrie turned her face to the west with a subdued heart. As she turned the corner, she saw through the great shiny window the small desk at which she had applied⁸³. There were the crowds, hurrying with the same buzz and energy-yielding enthusiasm. She felt a slight relief, but it was only at her escape. She felt ashamed in the face of better dressed girls who went by. She felt as though she should be better served, and her heart revolted.

接下来的两天，嘉莉沉浸在想入非非中。

她幻想着种种特权和享乐。要是她出身高贵人家，这些想法还切实际一些。在她的想象中，她那可怜巴巴的周薪4块半大洋已经大方潇洒地花了出去，为她买来了种种她想要的东西，种种她一眼看中的东西。真的，那几天夜里临上床前，当她坐在摇椅里愉快地看着下面灯火通明的大街时，这些还没到手的钱似乎已为未来的主人获取种种欢乐和种种女人想要的小玩意开辟了道路。“我会非常开心的，”她想道。

虽然嘉莉把一切可以买到的欢乐都想遍了，她姐姐敏妮一点也不知道她的这些想入非非。她忙着擦洗厨房里的木器和门窗，计算着星期天80美分的开销可以买些什么。那天嘉莉兴冲冲地回到家，因为初次成功而容光焕发。虽然很累，她很想聊聊那些现在感到很有趣的求职经过。可是敏妮只赞许地微微一笑，问她是不是在车费上要花掉一点钱。这是嘉莉没有想到的，不过这一点并没有长久地影响她的情绪。在她当时的心境下，当她模模糊糊算这笔钱的用途时，抽出一笔钱用在别的事情上，一点不让她感到总数有什么减少。她太高兴了。

汉生7点钟回到家时，脾气不太好——吃晚饭前他通常是这样的。他并没有说什么难听的话，但是当他在房间走动时，他板着一张脸，一言不发，他的神气流露出他的恶劣情绪。

他有一双心爱的黄色拖鞋。一到家，他就脱下那双结实的皮鞋，换上拖鞋。换鞋和洗脸是他晚饭前的唯一准备工作。他用普通的洗衣皂洗脸，一直洗到脸发出红光才罢手。然后他就拿起晚报，一声不响地看起来。

对于一个年轻人来说，这实在是一种不正常的性格。这使嘉莉的情绪也受到影响。其实他还影响了整个屋子的气氛。这种事往往都是这样的。在这种气氛里，他的妻子性格变得谨小慎微，处事圆活，竭力避免自讨没趣。嘉莉宣布找到了工作，才使他心情开朗了一点。

“这么说，你没有浪费一点时间，是吗？”他说着，脸上露出了一丝笑意。

“当然没有，”嘉莉用自豪的口气回答。

他又问了她一两个问题，就转过身去逗宝宝，直到在饭桌上敏妮提起来，他们才继续这个话题。

对工作的看法和将来的前途，嘉莉当然不会把她的想法降格到她姐姐、姐夫那些凡夫俗子的见解。

“那看起来是个大公司，”她在谈论中说道，“窗子用的是大块厚板玻璃，里面有许多职员。我见的那人说，他们一直雇这么多人。”

“只要人家看你顺眼，”汉生插进来说，“现在要找份工作不是很难的。”敏妮受了嘉莉好兴致的影响，加上她丈夫今天居然也健谈起来，开始告诉嘉莉那些值得一看的景点——都是不用花钱就可以大饱眼福的东西。

“你一定要去看看密歇根大街。那里有许多豪华住宅，真是条漂亮的马路。”“约各戏院在哪里？”嘉莉插嘴问道。她问的是一家专演通俗闹剧的戏院，那家戏院当时叫“约各”。

“嗯，离这里不远，”敏妮回答。“在霍尔斯台街，就在附近。”“我很想去那里看看。我今天走过霍尔斯台街了，是吗？”谈话到了这里略有停顿，没人立即回答她。思想真是一种会蔓延的奇怪东西。一听到她说起戏院，先是汉生的脑子里对这种花钱的玩意大不以为然，于是敏妮的脑子里也产生了同样的想法。感情的这种无声的微妙变化影响了饭桌上的气氛。

敏妮回答了一声“是的”，但是嘉莉可以感觉到看戏这想法在这个家中是不受欢迎的。这话题就暂时撇下不谈了。直到汉生吃完晚饭，拿上报纸去前屋，她们才重新提起看戏的事。

她们俩单独在一起，谈话就随便了点。姐妹俩边洗碗碟，边聊着，嘉莉还不时哼两句小曲。

“如果不太远的话，我想到霍尔斯台街去看看，”嘉莉过了一会儿说，“我们何不今晚去看场戏呢？”“我看史文今晚不会肯去的，”敏妮回答。“他早上要早起。““他不会反对的——他会喜欢看戏的，”嘉莉说。

“不会的，他不常看戏。”敏妮又说。

“嗯，可我实在想去，”嘉莉回答。“我们两个去吧。”敏妮想了会儿，不是想去不去，因为她想不去这点是不必斟酌的。她要费心思索的是如何将她妹妹的思路引到别的事上去。

“我们以后再说吧。”找不出什么推托的理由，她只好这么回答。

嘉莉马上看出了她反对的原因何在。

“我还有些钱，”她说，“你和我一起去吧。”敏妮摇了摇头。

“他也可以一起去的，”嘉莉说。

“不，”敏妮轻轻说道。她故意把碗碟弄出声响来掩盖她们的谈话声。“他不会去的。”敏妮已有好几年没有见到嘉莉了。这几年嘉莉的性格有了一些发展。她天性胆小，加上她们家没钱没势，所以在个人进取方面，她毫不起劲。可她对欢乐的追求却变得非常强烈，这一点成了她性格中的主要特点。她不想谈别的事，只想谈娱乐。

“你去问问他嘛，"她轻声恳求道。

敏妮想的却是嘉莉在他们家搭伙，可以增加些家里的收入。这点钱可以付房租，在和她丈夫谈家庭开销时也要容易些。可是如果嘉莉一开始就想着到处去玩，事情就有点不妙了。如果嘉莉不肯吃苦耐劳，埋头干活，只想着玩乐，那么她到城里来，对他们家又有什么好处呢？她这么想并非出自天性冷漠。她是一个任劳任怨，勤勤恳恳，竭力顺应环境维持生计的人。这些想法是处在这种境遇里的人认真思索的结果。

她最后作了让步，去征求汉生的意见。她这么做时，满心不情愿，所以很勉强。

“嘉莉要请我们去看戏，"她进去对她丈夫道。汉生从报上抬起头来，他们交换了一个温和的目光。两人的意思在这一眼中表示得明明白白：“这一点是我们原先没料到的。”“我不想去，"他回答道。"她想去看什么？”“约各剧院的戏，"敏妮说。

他低下头看报纸，不赞成地摇了摇头。

嘉莉看到他们对她的提议反应冷淡，心里对他们的生活方式有了一个更清楚的认识，这使得她感到压抑，不过她并没有明白表示反对意见。

“我想下楼去，在楼梯脚站一会儿，”又过了一会儿，她说。

敏妮对此没有反对，所以嘉莉就戴上帽子下楼去了。

“嘉莉上哪里去了”听到关门声，汉生回到吃饭间问道。

“她说她想到下面楼梯口去，”敏妮说，“我猜想她只是想在外面看看。”“她不该现在就开始想着花钱看戏，你说呢？”他说。

“我看她只是有点好奇，”敏妮大着胆子说道。“这里的一切对她说来太新奇了。”“我可拿不准是不是，”汉生微微皱起眉头说，然后转身去看宝宝。

他心里想着年轻姑娘的种种虚荣和奢侈，可是无法理解嘉莉这么一贫如洗怎么也会想到这种事上去。

星期六嘉莉一个人出去--先朝她感兴趣的河边走去，然后沿杰克生大街回来。大街两侧是漂亮的住宅和草坪，所以这条街后来改成了林荫大道。这些象征财富的房子给她留下了深刻印象，尽管这街上没有一家财产在十万以上。离开公寓到外面走走，使她心情舒畅，因为她已经感到那个家狭隘单调，毫无趣味和欢乐可言。她的思想自由自在地飘浮，当中还不时想到杜洛埃身上，猜测着他现在会在哪里。她不能肯定他星期一晚上是否会来。她一方面担心他会来，一方面又有点盼他来。

星期一她早早起来，准备去上班。她穿上了一件蓝点子细布旧上衣，一条褪了色的淡咖啡哔叽裙子，和一顶她在哥伦比亚城戴了一夏天的小草帽。她的鞋子也是旧的，领带已经又皱又扁。除了相貌以外，她看上去就像一个普通女工。她比一般姑娘来得美貌。给人一种可爱甜美，端庄动人的印象。

嘉莉平时在家时往往睡到七八点钟才起床，所以现在要起早可不容易。清早６点时，她从自己睡觉的地方睡眼惺忪地瞥见汉生在外面吃饭间闷声不响地吃早饭，她开始有点理解汉生过的是什么样的生活了。等她穿好衣服，他已经走了，只剩她和敏妮加宝宝在一起吃早饭。宝宝已经会坐在一个高椅上用勺子摆弄碟子。现在事到临头，马上要去从事一件陌生的工作，她的情绪低落了。她的种种美好的幻想如今只剩下一些灰烬--尽管灰烬底下还埋着几颗尚未燃尽的希望的余火。

她心情压抑，胆怯不安，默默地吃着饭，想象着那个鞋厂的光景，工作的情况和老板的态度。她模模糊糊地认为她会和那些大厂主有些接触，那些态度严肃穿着体面的先生们有时会到她干活的地方转转。

“好，祝你好运，”她准备动身的时候，敏妮对她说。她们已商量好，还是步行去，至少第一天要步行去，试试能不能每天走去上班—-一星期６０美分的车票在目前的形势下是一笔不小的数目了。

“今晚我会告诉你那里的情形，”嘉莉说。

一走到阳光明媚的街上，嘉莉的信心足了一些。马路上来来往往都是上班的人，公共马车上挤满了到大批发行上班的小职员和仆役，乘客一直挤到了车上的栏杆旁。男男女女已出门在外面走动。走在广阔的蓝天下，沐浴着早上的阳光，清新的空气扑面而来，除了绝望无路的人，什么害怕担心有立足之地呢。在夜里，或者白天在阴暗的房间里，强烈的恐惧和疑虑也许会袭上心头。但是一旦到了阳光下，一时间恐怕连死亡的恐惧也会忘记的。

嘉莉一直往前走，直到过了河，然后转弯拐进第五大街。

这里的大街就像是一条深深的峡谷，两旁矗立着棕色的石墙和深红色的砖墙。大玻璃窗看上去明亮干净，大量的货车隆隆驶过。到处是男男女女，其中有少男少女。她见到和她年纪相仿的女孩，她们打量着她，似乎对她的畏缩神气有些瞧不起。

她对这里生活的宏伟气势大感惊叹，也吃惊地想到一个人该需要多少知识和本领才可能在这里干些名堂出来。于是一种唯恐自己干不好的担心悄悄爬上心头。她担心自己学不会，又担心自己手脚慢。其他那些回绝她的单位不就是因为她这不会那不懂吗？他们会说她，骂她，解雇她，让她丢尽脸面的。

她来到亚当路和第五大街转弯处的鞋业公司，走进电梯，心情紧张得膝盖发软，有点透不过起来。她在四楼出电梯时，看不到一个人影，只见成堆摞到房顶的盒子，中间留出一条条走道来。她心情惶恐地站在那里等待。

不一会，布朗先生来了。他似乎不认识她了。

“你有什么事？”他问。

嘉莉的心直往下沉。

“你让我今早来上工”

“噢，”他打断了她，“不错，你叫什么名字？”“嘉莉·米贝。”“不错，"他说，”你跟我来。“他走在头里，穿过盒子堆中间的昏暗过道，过道里弥漫着新鞋子的气味，最后来到一个铁门前，铁门里就是车间了。那是个天棚很低的大房间，里面排列着发出隆隆声响的机器。机器旁，穿着白衬衫蓝围腰的工人正在工作。她怯生生地跟在后面，走过隆隆的机器，眼睛直视着前方，脸上微微有些发红。他们穿过整个车间，到了车间的另一头，然后坐电梯到了六楼。

在一排排的机器和工作台中间，布朗先生招呼一个工头过来。

“就是这女孩，”他说，又转身对嘉莉说，“你跟他去。”他转身往回走，嘉莉就跟着新上司到了角落里的一张小桌旁，这小桌是他办公的地方。

“你以前没有到这种厂里干过，是吗？”他口气严厉地问道。

“没有，先生，”她答道。

他似乎因为得跟这种帮工打交道很不高兴，但还是记下了她的名字，然后带她来到一排咔嚓咔嚓响着的机器前，那里一长排女工正坐在机器前的凳子上干活。他把手搭在一个正用机器在鞋帮上打眼的姑娘肩上。

“喂，”他说，“把你正干的活教给这个姑娘。等你教会了她，就到我这里来。”那女孩听了这吩咐，马上站起来，把自己的位子让给嘉莉。

“这不难做的，”她弯下腰说道，“你这样拿着这个，用这个夹子把它夹住，然后开动机器。”她一边说着一边示范，用可以调节的小夹子夹住了那块皮，那皮是用来做男鞋右半面鞋帮的，然后推动机器旁的小操纵杆，机器就跳动着开始打洞，发出尖锐的噼啪噼啪声，在鞋帮边上切下小小的圆皮圈，在鞋帮上留下穿鞋带的小孔。女工在旁边看她做了几次以后，就让她独立操作，看到她活儿干得不赖时，就走了。

那些妻子是操作她右边机器的女工传过来的，经过她这里，然后传到她左边的女工那里。嘉莉立刻看出她必须跟上她们的速度，不然活儿就会在她这里积压下来，而下面工序的人就会停工待料。她没有时间四面打量，埋头紧张地干着她那份活。在她左右两边的女工明白她的处境和心情，竭力想帮助她，所以大着胆子偷偷地放慢了干活的速度。

她这么手脚不停地干了一会儿。在机器的单调刻板运动中，她的心情松弛了一点，不再提心吊胆，紧张不安了。时间一分钟一分钟地过去，她开始觉得车间里光线不够亮，空气中有浓重的新皮革气味，不过她并不在乎。她感到别的工人在看她，所以唯恐自己手脚不够快。

有一次，因为有块皮子没有放正，所以她正摸索着重新摆弄小夹子。就在这时，一只大手伸到她面前，替她把皮子夹紧。

那是工头。她的心怦怦直跳，几乎无法继续干了去。

“开动机器，”他喊，“开动机器。不要让人家等你。”这话使她头脑清醒过来，于是她又手忙脚乱地继续干下去，紧张得几乎气也不敢喘一口。直到背后的人影移开了，她才深深地透了一口气。

上午，随着时间的推移，车间里越来越热。她很想吸一口新鲜空气，喝一口水，但是不敢动一动。她坐的凳子既没有椅背也没有踏脚，她开始感到很不舒服。又过了一会儿，她的背开始疼起来。她扭动着身子，微微地从一个姿势换到另一个姿势，但是好不了多久。她开始吃不消了。

“你为什么不站一会儿呢？”在她右边的女工不用人介绍认识，就和她搭话说，“他们不管的。”嘉莉感激地看了她一眼，说道：“是的，我是想站一会儿。”她从凳子上站起来，站着干了一会儿。但站着干更累人，她得弯着腰，于是她的头颈和肩膀都疼了起来。

这地方的环境给她粗鲁的感觉。她并不敢朝四周东张西望，但在机器的咔嚓声中，她偶尔听到了一些人们的谈话声，从眼角梢她也注意到一两件小事。

“你昨晚看见哈里了吗？”她左边的女工对旁边一个人说。

“没有。”

“你真该瞧瞧他系的那条领带。哎呀，人人都嘲笑他。”“嘘--”另一个女工发出一声警告，仍埋头做着她的事。

第一个女工马上闭上嘴，做出一副严肃的样子。工头慢慢地走过来，打量着每个工人。他一走，谈话又继续下去。

“嘿，”她左边的女工先开口，“你猜他说了些什么？”“我不知道。”“他说他昨晚看见我们和艾迪·哈里斯一起在马丁酒家。”“去他的。”她们两个咯咯笑了起来。

一个蓬着一头褐色乱发的小伙子左臂下贴着肚子挟着一箩筐制皮工具，顺着机器间的过道，拽着脚步走了过来。走到嘉莉附近时，他伸出右手拧住了一个女工的手臂。

“呸，松手！”她愤怒地叫了起来，“你这个笨蛋。”他咧嘴一笑，作为回答。

“操你的！”她还在看着他的背影时，他回头回敬了一句，一点绅士风度也没有。

嘉莉终于在凳子上坐不住了。她的腿开始疼了，她想站起来，直一直腰。怎么还不到中午？她觉得仿佛已经干了整整一天了。她一点也不饿，可是已经精疲力尽了。眼睛一直盯着打鞋孔的地方，也累得发酸。右边的女孩注意到她坐不安稳的样子，心里为她难过：她思想太集中了，其实她不必这么紧张这么卖劲的。但是她一点忙也帮不上。鞋帮不断地传到嘉莉那里，越积越多。她的手腕开始酸痛，接着手指也痛了，后来全身都麻木酸痛了。她这样姿势不变地重复做着这简单机械的动作，这些动作变得越来越叫人讨厌，到最后，简直让人恶心。她正在想这种苦工怎么没完没了时，从电梯通道那里传来了一阵沉闷的铃声，总算熬到头了。立刻传来嗡嗡的说话声和走动声，所有的女工立刻从凳子上站起来，匆匆走到隔壁房间。不知哪部门的男工从右边的门里走了进来，又穿过车间。转动的机轮声渐渐低下去，最后终于在低低的嗡嗡声中完全消失了。

车间变得异样的寂静，简直可以用耳朵听到这寂静，而人的声音听上去反而怪怪的。

嘉莉站起来去拿她的饭盒。她感到全身都僵硬了，头晕乎乎的，口渴得厉害。她向用木板隔开的小房间走去，那里是专门放衣包和午饭的。路上碰到了工头，他瞪眼打量着她。

“怎么样，”他问，“还能做得来吗？”

“还行，”她毕恭毕敬地回答。

“嗯。”他没有什么话好说，就走开了。

在条件好一些的情况下，这种工作其实并不太累。但是当时的工厂还没有采纳新福利制度，为工人提供舒适的劳动环境。

这地方弥漫着机油和新皮革的混合气味，再加上楼里污浊陈腐的气味，即使在冷天空气也很难闻。地上虽然每天傍晚都扫一次，仍然杂乱不堪。厂里一丝一毫也不为工人的劳动条件着想。他们只盼福利越少越好，工作越重越好，要能不出钱最好，这样厂里才能赚大钱。我们现在所知道的那些脚踏，旋背椅，女工餐厅，厂方发给的干净工作围腰和卷发器，以及像样的衣帽间，这些东西当时连想也没有想到。洗手间即使不算肮脏，也是粗陋不堪，空气污秽恶劣。

嘉莉打量着四周。从角落的桶里舀了一铁罐水喝了以后，她想找个地方坐下来吃饭。姑娘们已在窗台上或者男工们离开的工作台上坐下来，每个可以坐的地方都挤着两三个姑娘。

她太害羞腼腆，不好意思和她们一起去挤，所以就走到她的机器旁，在凳子上坐下来，把午饭盒放在膝盖上。她坐在那，听周围人们的聊天谈论。那些话大部分愚蠢无聊，夹杂着流行的市井喱语。房间里有几个男工隔着老远，在和女工们斗嘴。

“喂，吉蒂，”有一个对正在窗子旁的几尺空间练习华尔兹舞步的姑娘喊，”跟我去跳舞好吗？”“当心，吉蒂，”另一个喊，“他会把你后面的头发弄乱，让你好看的。”“去你的吧，操蛋。”她只这么回了一句。

当嘉莉听到男女工人这样随便放肆地打趣揶揄时，她本能地和他们拉开了距离。她不习惯这一类谈话，感到这里有些残忍粗俗的成份在内。她害怕这些小伙子也会对她说下流话--除了杜洛埃，小伙子们个个粗鲁可笑。她照一般女性的目光，用衣着把人分成两类：穿西装礼服的是有身价，有美德，有名望的人；穿工装短衫的是有恶习劣质的人，不值一顾。

她很高兴短短的半小时过去了，机轮又转动了起来。干活尽管累，她可以避免自己的惹人注目。可这想法马上被证明是错误的。一个青工从过道走来，无所谓地用大拇指戳了一下她的肋部。她气得眼睛冒火，转过身来。但是那青工已走远了，只回过头来一笑。她气得想哭。

旁边的女工注意到了她的情绪。“别放在心上，”她说，“这小子太放肆了。”嘉莉什么也没说，低头开始工作。她感到她几乎无法忍受这样的生活。她原来想象的工作和这一切天差地远。整个长长的下午，她想到外面的城市，那壮观的市容和人群，那些漂亮的大楼。她又想到了哥伦比亚城，想到老家的好处。３点钟时，她肯定已是６点了。到了４点，她怀疑他们忘了看钟，让大家在加班加点了。工头成了一个魔鬼，不断在旁边巡睃，使她一动不敢动，钉在她那个倒霉的活上。她听到周围人们的谈话，这些话只让她肯定她不想和他们中的任何一个交朋友。６点钟到了，她急忙回家。她的胳膊酸痛，四肢因为坐的姿势不变已经僵硬。

当她拿着帽子顺大厅出来时，一个年轻的机床工人被她的姿色所吸引，大胆地和她说笑起来。

“喂，姑娘，”他喊道，“等一下，我和你一起走。”那话是直冲她的方向说的，所以她清楚这是对谁而发，但是她连头也没回。

在拥挤的电梯里，另一个满身尘土和机油的青工朝她色迷迷地看着，想和她拉关系。

外面人行道上，一个小伙子正在等人，看见她走过，朝她露齿一笑，“不跟我一起走吗？”他开玩笑地喊。

嘉莉情绪低落地朝西走。转过街角，她透过大而明亮的玻璃窗又看到了那张小办公桌，她当初就是在那里申请工作的。

路上到处是嘈杂的人流，他们急急走着，步履中照旧透出充沛的精力和热情。她感到稍稍松了一口气，庆幸自己逃离了那地方。她看见穿着比自己漂亮的姑娘从身边走过，就感到羞愧。

她认为自己该享有更好的待遇，所以心里很不平。

　

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