Chapter IV

by Theodore Dreiser

　　THE SPENDINGS OF FANCY--FACTS ANSWER WITH SNEERSFor the next two days Carrie indulged in the most high-flownspeculations.Her fancy plunged recklessly into privileges and amusements whichwould have been much more becoming had she been cradled a childof fortune. With ready will and quick mental selection shescattered her meagre four-fifty per week with a swift andgraceful hand. Indeed, as she sat in her rocking-chair theseseveral evenings before going to bed and looked out upon thepleasantly lighted street, this money cleared for its prospectivepossessor the way to every joy and every bauble which the heartof woman may desire. "I will have a fine time," she thought.Her sister Minnie knew nothing of these rather wild cerebrations,though they exhausted the markets of delight. She was too busyscrubbing the kitchen woodwork and calculating the purchasingpower of eighty cents for Sunday's dinner. When Carrie hadreturned home, flushed with her first success and ready, for allher weariness, to discuss the now interesting events which led upto her achievement, the former had merely smiled approvingly andinquired whether she would have to spend any of it for car fare.This consideration had not entered in before, and it did not nowfor long affect the glow of Carrie's enthusiasm. Disposed as shethen was to calculate upon that vague basis which allows thesubtraction of one sum from another without any perceptiblediminution, she was happy.When Hanson came home at seven o'clock, he was inclined to be alittle crusty--his usual demeanour before supper. This nevershowed so much in anything he said as in a certain solemnity ofcountenance and the silent manner in which he slopped about. Hehad a pair of yellow carpet slippers which he enjoyed wearing,and these he would immediately substitute for his solid pair ofshoes. This, and washing his face with the aid of common washingsoap until it glowed a shiny red, constituted his onlypreparation 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, andso affected Carrie. Indeed, it affected the entire atmosphere ofthe flat, as such things are inclined to do, and gave to hiswife's mind its subdued and tactful turn, anxious to avoidtaciturn replies. Under the influence of Carrie's announcement hebrightened up somewhat."You didn't lose any time, did you?" he remarked, smiling alittle."No," returned Carrie with a touch of pride.He asked her one or two more questions and then turned to playwith the baby, leaving the subject until it was brought up againby Minnie at the table.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."Great big plate-glass windows and lots of clerks. The man I sawsaid they hired 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 andher husband's somewhat conversational mood, began to tell Carrieof some of the well-known things to see--things the enjoyment ofwhich 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 ofthe theatres devoted to melodrama which went by that name at thetime."Oh, it's not very far from here," answered Minnie. "It's inHalstead 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. Thoughtsare a strangely permeating factor. At her suggestion of going tothe theatre, the unspoken shade of disapproval to the doing ofthose things which involved the expenditure of money--shades offeeling 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 poorlyadvocated here. The subject was put off for a little while untilHanson, through with his meal, took his paper and went into thefront room.When they were alone, the two sisters began a somewhat freerconversation, Carrie interrupting it to hum a little, as theyworked at the dishes."I should like to walk up and see Halstead Street, if it isn'ttoo far," said Carrie, after a time. "Why don't we go to thetheatre to-night?""Oh, I don't think Sven would want to go to-night," returnedMinnie. "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 uponsome means of diverting the thoughts of her sister to some othertopic."We'll go some other time," she said at last, finding no readymeans of escape.Carrie sensed the root of the opposition at once."I have some money," she said. "You go with me." Minnie shookher head."He could go along," said Carrie."No," returned Minnie softly, and rattling the dishes to drownthe conversation. "He wouldn't."It had been several years since Minnie had seen Carrie, and inthat time the latter's character had developed a few shades.Naturally timid in all things that related to her ownadvancement, and especially so when without power or resource,her craving for pleasure was so strong that it was the one stayof 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 wouldadd. It would pay the rent and would make the subject ofexpenditure a little less difficult to talk about with herhusband. But if Carrie was going to think of running around inthe beginning there would be a hitch somewhere. Unless Carriesubmitted to a solemn round of industry and saw the need of hardwork without longing for play, how was her coming to the city toprofit 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 uponher husband. Hanson looked up from his paper, and they exchangeda mild look, which said as plainly as anything: "This isn't whatwe 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 gaineda 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," shesaid, after a time.Minnie made no objection to this, and Carrie put on her hat andwent below."Where has Carrie gone?" asked Hanson, coming back into thedining-room when 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."Everything is so new.""I don't know," said Hanson, and went over to the baby, hisforehead slightly wrinkled.He was thinking of a full career of vanity and wastefulness whicha young girl might indulge in, and wondering how Carrie couldcontemplate such a course when she had so little, as yet, withwhich to do.On Saturday Carrie went out by herself--first toward the river,which interested her, and then back along Jackson Street, whichwas then lined by the pretty houses and fine lawns whichsubsequently caused it to be made into a boulevard. She wasstruck with the evidences of wealth, although there was, perhaps,not a person on the street worth more than a hundred thousanddollars. She was glad to be out of the flat, because already shefelt that it was a narrow, humdrum place, and that interest andjoy 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 callanyhow Monday night, and, while she felt a little disturbed atthe possibility, there was, nevertheless, just the shade of awish 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 shehad worn all summer at Columbia City. Her shoes were old, andher necktie was in that crumpled, flattened state which time andmuch wearing impart. She made a very average looking shop-girlwith the exception of her features. These were slightly more eventhan common, and gave her a sweet, reserved, and pleasingappearance.It is no easy thing to get up early in the morning when one isused to sleeping until seven and eight, as Carrie had been athome. She gained some inkling of the character of Hanson's lifewhen, half asleep, she looked out into the dining-room at sixo'clock and saw him silently finishing his breakfast. By thetime she was dressed he was gone, and she, Minnie, and the babyate together, the latter being just old enough to sit in a highchair and disturb the dishes with a spoon. Her spirits weregreatly subdued now when the fact of entering upon strange anduntried duties confronted her. Only the ashes of all her finefancies were remaining--ashes still concealing, nevertheless, afew red embers of hope. So subdued was she by her weakeningnerves, that she ate quite in silence going over imaginaryconceptions of the character of the shoe company, the nature ofthe work, her employer's attitude. She was vaguely feeling thatshe would come in contact with the great owners, that her workwould be where grave, stylishly dressed men occasionally look on."Well, good luck," said Minnie, when she was ready to go. Theyhad agreed it was best to walk, that morning at least, to see ifshe could do it every day--sixty cents a week for car fare beingquite 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 eitherdirection, the horse-cars passing crowded to the rails with thesmall clerks and floor help in the great wholesale houses, andmen and women generally coming out of doors and passing about theneighbourhood, Carrie felt slightly reassured. In the sunshineof the morning, beneath the wide, blue heavens, with a fresh windastir, what fears, except the most desperate, can find aharbourage? In the night, or the gloomy chambers of the day,fears and misgivings wax strong, but out in the sunlight thereis, for a time, cessation even of the terror of death.Carrie went straight forward until she crossed the river, andthen turned into Fifth Avenue. The thoroughfare, in this part,was like a walled canon of brown stone and dark red brick. Thebig windows looked shiny and clean. Trucks were rumbling inincreasing numbers; men and women, girls and boys were movingonward in all directions. She met girls of her own age, wholooked at her as if with contempt for her diffidence. Shewondered at the magnitude of this life and at the importance ofknowing much in order to do anything in it at all. Dread at herown inefficiency crept upon her. She would not know how, shewould not be quick enough. Had not all the other places refusedher because she did not know something or other? She would bescolded, abused, ignominiously discharged.It was with weak knees and a slight catch in her breathing thatshe came up to the great shoe company at Adams and Fifth Avenueand entered the elevator. When she stepped out on the fourthfloor there was no one at hand, only great aisles of boxes piledto the ceiling. She stood, very much frightened, awaiting someone.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 smellof new shoes, until they came to an iron door which opened intothe factory proper. There was a large, low-ceiled room, withclacking, rattling machines at which men in white shirt sleevesand blue gingham aprons were working. She followed himdiffidently through the clattering automatons, keeping her eyesstraight before her, and flushing slightly. They crossed to a farcorner and took an elevator to the sixth floor. Out of the arrayof machines and benches, Mr. Brown signalled a foreman."This is the girl," he said, and turning to Carrie, "You go withhim." He then returned, and Carrie followed her new superior toa little desk in a corner, which he used as a kind of officialcentre."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, butput down her name and then led her across to where a line ofgirls occupied stools in front of clacking machines. On theshoulder of one of the girls who was punching eye-holes in onepiece 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 promptly and gave Carrie her place."It isn't hard to do," she said, bending over. "You just takethis so, fasten it with this clamp, and start the machine."She suited action to word, fastened the piece of leather, whichwas eventually to form the right half of the upper of a man'sshoe, by little adjustable clamps, and pushed a small steel rodat the side of the machine. The latter jumped to the task ofpunching, with sharp, snapping clicks, cutting circular bits ofleather out of the side of the upper, leaving the holes whichwere to hold the laces. After observing a few times, the girllet 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 herright, and were passed on to the girl at her left. Carrie saw atonce that an average speed was necessary or the work would pileup on her and all those below would be delayed. She had no timeto look about, and bent anxiously to her task. The girls at herleft and right realised her predicament and feelings, and, in away, tried to aid her, as much as they dared, by working slower.At this task she laboured incessantly for some time, findingrelief from her own nervous fears and imaginings in the humdrum,mechanical movement of the machine. She felt, as the minutespassed, that the room was not very light. It had a thick odourof fresh leather, but that did not worry her. She felt the eyesof the other help upon her, and troubled lest she was not workingfast enough.Once, when she was fumbling at the little clamp, having made aslight error in setting in the leather, a great hand appearedbefore her eyes and fastened the clamp for her. It was theforeman. Her heart thumped so that she could scarcely see to goon."Start your machine," he said, "start your machine. Don't keepthe line waiting."This recovered her sufficiently and she went excitedly on, hardlybreathing until the shadow moved away from behind her. Then sheheaved a great breath.As the morning wore on the room became hotter. She felt the needof a breath of fresh air and a drink of water, but did notventure to stir. The stool she sat on was without a back orfoot-rest, and she began to feel uncomfortable. She found, aftera time, that her back was beginning to ache. She twisted andturned from one position to another slightly different, but itdid not ease her for long. She was beginning to weary."Stand up, why don't you?" said the girl at her right, withoutany 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, butit was a more difficult position. Her neck and shoulders achedin 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 themachine she could hear an occasional remark. She could also notea thing or two out of the side of her eye."Did you see Harry last night?" said the girl at her left,addressing her neighbour."No.""You ought to have seen the tie he had on. Gee, but he was amark.""S-s-t," said the other girl, bending over her work. The first,silenced, instantly assumed a solemn face. The foreman passedslowly along, eyeing each worker distinctly. The moment he wasgone, 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 giggled.A youth with tan-coloured hair, that needed clipping very badly,came shuffling along between the machines, bearing a basket ofleather findings under his left arm, and pressed against hisstomach. When near Carrie, he stretched out his right hand andgripped 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 wasnothing of the gallant in him.Carrie at last could scarcely sit still. Her legs began to tireand she wanted to get up and stretch. Would noon never come? Itseemed as if she had worked an entire day. She was not hungry atall, but weak, and her eyes were tired, straining at the onepoint where the eye-punch came down. The girl at the rightnoticed her squirmings and felt sorry for her. She wasconcentrating herself too thoroughly--what she did reallyrequired less mental and physical strain. There was nothing tobe done, however. The halves of the uppers came piling steadilydown. Her hands began to ache at the wrists and then in thefingers, and towards the last she seemed one mass of dull,complaining muscles, fixed in an eternal position and performinga single mechanical movement which became more and moredistasteful, until as last it was absolutely nauseating. Whenshe 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 andconversation. All the girls instantly left their stools andhurried away in an adjoining room, men passed through, comingfrom some department which opened on the right. The whirlingwheels began to sing in a steadily modifying key, until at lastthey died away in a low buzz. There was an audible stillness, inwhich the common voice sounded strange.Carrie got up and sought her lunch box. She was stiff, a littledizzy, and very thirsty. On the way to the small space portionedoff by wood, where all the wraps and lunches were kept, sheencountered 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 nothave been so bad, but the new socialism which involves pleasantworking conditions for employees had not then taken hold uponmanufacturing 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, thoughregularly swept every evening, presented a littered surface. Notthe slightest provision had been made for the comfort of theemployees, the idea being that something was gained by givingthem as little and making the work as hard and unremunerative aspossible. What we know of foot-rests, swivel-back chairs,dining-rooms for the girls, clean aprons and curling ironssupplied free, and a decent cloak room, were unthought of. Thewashrooms were disagreeable, crude, if not foul places, and thewhole atmosphere was sordid.Carrie looked about her, after she had drunk a tinful of waterfrom a bucket in one corner, for a place to sit and eat. Theother girls had ranged themselves about the windows or the work-benches of those of the men who had gone out. She saw no placewhich did not hold a couple or a group of girls, and being tootimid to think of intruding herself, she sought out her machineand, seated upon her stool, opened her lunch on her lap. Thereshe 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 thegirls at long range."Say, Kitty," called one to a girl who was doing a waltz step ina few feet of space near one of the windows, "are you going tothe 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 familiarbadinage among the men and girls, she instinctively withdrew intoherself. She was not used to this type, and felt that there wassomething hard and low about it all. She feared that the youngboys about would address such remarks to her--boys who, besideDrouet, seemed uncouth and ridiculous. She made the averagefeminine distinction between clothes, putting worth, goodness,and distinction in a dress suit, and leaving all the unlovelyqualities and those beneath notice in overalls and jumper.She was glad when the short half hour was over and the wheelsbegan to whirr again. Though wearied, she would beinconspicuous. This illusion ended when another young man passedalong the aisle and poked her indifferently in the ribs with histhumb. She turned about, indignation leaping to her eyes, but hehad gone on and only once turned to grin. She found it difficultto 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 thoughshe could hardly endure such a life. Her idea of work had beenso entirely different. All during the long afternoon she thoughtof the city outside and its imposing show, crowds, and finebuildings. Columbia City and the better side of her home lifecame back. By three o'clock she was sure it must be six, and byfour it seemed as if they had forgotten to note the hour and wereletting all work overtime. The foreman became a true ogre,prowling constantly about, keeping her tied down to her miserabletask. What she heard of the conversation about her only made herfeel sure that she did not want to make friends with any ofthese. When six o'clock came she hurried eagerly away, her armsaching and her limbs stiff from sitting in one position.As she passed out along the hall after getting her hat, a youngmachine 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 wasmeant, but never turned to look.In the crowded elevator, another dusty, toil-stained youth triedto make an 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 sheturned the corner, she saw through the great shiny window thesmall desk at which she had applied. There were the crowds,hurrying with the same buzz and energy-yielding enthusiasm. Shefelt a slight relief, but it was only at her escape. She feltashamed in the face of better dressed girls who went by. Shefelt as though she should be better served, and her heartrevolted.