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

"Well," he said, as he came in from the hall in his working clothes, and looked 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 she was both weary and disappointed.

"What sort of work is it?" he asked, lingering a moment as he turned upon 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 side of the flat's success. He was irritated a shade because it could not have 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 that Carrie had reported her discontent. To Carrie, the one relief of the whole day would have been a jolly home, a sympathetic reception, a bright supper table, and some one to say: "Oh, well, stand it a little while. You will get something better," but now this was ashes. She began to see that they looked upon her complaint as unwarranted, and that she was supposed to work on and say nothing. She knew that she was to pay four dollars for her board and room, and now she felt that it would be an exceedingly gloomy round, living with these people.

Minnie was no companion for her sister--she was too old. Her thoughts were staid and solemnly adapted to a condition. If Hanson had any pleasant thoughts or happy feelings he concealed them. He seemed to do all his mental operations without the aid of physical expression. He was as still as a deserted chamber. Carrie, on the other hand, had the blood of youth and some imagination. Her day of love and the mysteries of courtship were still ahead. She could think of things she would like to do, of clothes she would like to wear, and of places she would like to visit. These were the things upon which her mind ran, and it was like meeting with opposition at every turn to find no one here to call forth or 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 two people were, she hoped he would not. She did not know exactly what she would do or how she would explain to Drouet, if he came. After supper she changed her clothes. When she was trimly dressed she was rather a sweet little being, with large eyes and a sad mouth. Her face expressed the mingled expectancy, dissatisfaction, and depression she felt. She wandered about after the dishes were put away, talked a little with Minnie, and then decided to go down and stand in the door at the foot of the stairs. If Drouet came, she could meet him there. Her face took on the 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 her husband when the latter came out, paper in hand, to sit in the dining-room a few minutes.

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

"Yes," said Minnie.

"I'd tell her to keep it if I were you. She might be here weeks without getting 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 in the 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 going or what their enjoyments were. Her imagination trod a very narrow round, always winding up at points which concerned money, looks, clothes, or enjoyment. She would have a far-off thought of Columbia City now and then, or an irritating rush of feeling concerning her experiences of the present day, but, on the whole, the little world about her enlisted her whole 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 his presence 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 really came for bread, the thought dwelt with him that now he would see what Carrie was doing. No sooner did he draw near her with that in mind than she felt it. Of course, she had no understanding of what put it into her head, but, nevertheless, it aroused in her the first shade of real antipathy to him. She knew now that she did not like him. He was suspicious.

A thought will colour a world for us. The flow of Carrie's meditations had been disturbed, and Hanson had not long gone upstairs before she followed. She had realised with the lapse of the quarter hours that Drouet was not coming, and somehow she felt a little resentful, a little as 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 and disappointment Carrie did no more than announce that she was going to bed.

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

The morning was no better. Hanson was just going out the door as Carrie came from her room. Minnie tried to talk with her during breakfast, but there was not much of interest which they could mutually discuss. As on the previous morning, Carrie walked down town, for she began to realise now that her four-fifty would not even allow her car fare after she paid her board. This seemed a miserable arrangement. But the morning light swept away the first misgivings of the day, as morning light is ever wont to do.

At the shoe factory she put in a long day, scarcely so wearisome as the preceding, 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 seemed satisfied with their lot, and were in a sense "common." Carrie had more imagination than they. She was not used to slang. Her instinct in the matter of dress was naturally better. She disliked to listen to the girl next to her, who was rather hardened by experience.

"I'm going to quit this," she heard her remark to her neighbour. "What with 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, and exchanged banter in rude phrases, which at first shocked her. She saw that 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 chase yourself!" in return, and was sufficiently abashed, by Carrie's silently moving away, to retreat, awkwardly grinning.

That night at the flat she was even more lonely--the dull situation was becoming harder to endure. She could see that the Hansons seldom or never had any company. Standing at the street door looking out, she ventured to walk out a little way. Her easy gait and idle manner attracted attention of an offensive but common sort. She was slightly taken back at the overtures of a well-dressed man of thirty, who in passing 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 thought to 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 own door quite out of breath. There was something in the man's look which frightened her.

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

Transplantation is not always successful in the matter of flowers or maidens. It requires sometimes a richer soil, a better atmosphere to continue even a natural growth. It would have been better if her acclimatization had been more gradual--less rigid.

She would have done better if she had not secured a position so quickly, and had seen more of 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 the kind of vanity in Carrie that troubled at this. She went to one of the great department stores and bought herself one, using a dollar and a quarter 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 be a common shop-girl, she thought; they need not think it, either.

On the first Saturday night Carrie paid her board, four dollars. Minnie had a quaver of conscience as she took it, but did not know how to explain to Hanson if she took less. That worthy gave up just four dollars less toward the household expenses with a smile of satisfaction. He contemplated increasing his Building and Loan payments. As for Carrie, she studied over the problem of finding clothes and amusement on fifty cents a week. She brooded over this until she was in a state of mental 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 into the last word they realised for the first time she was not pleased with them.

"What's the matter with her?" asked Hanson, when she went into the front room 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 the door. The next day they went out to Garfield Park, but it did not please her. She did not look well enough. In the shop next day she heard the highly 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 Buren Street. All that evening she sat alone in the front room looking out upon 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 cents in despair. The speaking acquaintanceship which she formed with some of the girls at the shop discovered to her the fact that they had more of their earnings to use for themselves than she did. They had young men of the kind whom she, since her experience with Drouet, felt above, who took them about. She came to thoroughly dislike the light-headed young fellows of the shop. Not one of them had a show of refinement. She saw only their workday side.

There came a day when the first premonitory blast of winter swept over the city. It scudded the fleecy clouds in the heavens, trailed long, thin streamers of smoke from the tall stacks, and raced about the streets and corners in sharp and sudden puffs. Carrie now felt the problem 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 at last she summoned the courage.

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

Minnie looked serious.

"Why don't you keep part of your money and buy yourself one?" she suggested, worried over the situation which the withholding of Carrie's money 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, and liberal now that she saw a way out. She was elated and began figuring at once. She needed a hat first of all. How Minnie explained to Hanson she never knew. He said nothing at all, but there were thoughts in the air which left disagreeable impressions.

The new arrangement might have worked if sickness had not intervened. It blew up cold after a rain one afternoon when Carrie was still without a jacket. She came out of the warm shop at six and shivered as the wind struck her. In the morning she was sneezing, and going down town made it worse. That day her bones ached and she felt light-headed. Towards evening 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 bed sick. 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 she got up after three days, it was taken for granted that her position was lost. The winter was near at hand, she had no clothes, and now she was out of work.

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

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

On the fourth day she was down town all day, having borrowed ten cents for lunch from Minnie. She had applied in the cheapest kind of places without success. She even answered for a waitress in a small restaurant where she saw a card in the window, but they wanted an experienced girl. She moved through the thick throng of strangers, utterly subdued in spirit. Suddenly a hand pulled her arm and turned her about.

"Well, well!" said a voice. In the first glance she beheld Drouet. He was not only rosy-cheeked, but radiant. He was the essence of sunshine and 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 was you. 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 in particular, are you?"

"Not just now," said Carrie.

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

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

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

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

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

Carrie looked over the large bill of fare which the waiter handed her without really considering it. She was very hungry, and the things she saw there awakened her desires, but the high prices held her attention. "Half broiled spring chicken--seventy-five. Sirloin steak with mushrooms--one twenty-five." She had dimly heard of these things, but it seemed 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. Just got 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. How is 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 on Fifth Avenue, isn't it? They're a close-fisted concern. What made you go there?"

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

"Well, that's an outrage," said Drouet. "You oughtn't to be working for those 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 at anything like that, anyhow."

He chatted on at a great rate, asking questions, explaining things about himself, telling her what a good restaurant it was, until the waiter returned with an immense tray, bearing the hot savoury dishes which had been ordered. Drouet fairly shone in the matter of serving. He appeared to great advantage behind the white napery and silver platters of the table and displaying his arms with a knife and fork. As he cut the meat his rings almost spoke. His new suit creaked as he stretched to reach the plates, break the bread, and pour the coffee. He helped Carrie to a rousing plateful and contributed the warmth of his spirit to her body until she was a new girl. He was a splendid fellow in the true popular understanding of the term, and captivated Carrie completely.

That little soldier of fortune took her good turn in an easy way. She felt a little out of place, but the great room soothed her and the view of the well-dressed throng outside seemed a splendid thing. Ah, what was it not to have money! What a thing it was to be able to come in here and dine! Drouet must be fortunate. He rode on trains, dressed in such nice clothes, was so strong, and ate in these fine places. He seemed quite a figure 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 are you going to do now?"

"Look around," she said, a thought of the need that hung outside this fine 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. "You oughtn't to be doing anything like that. These girls," and he waved an inclusion of all shop and factory girls, "don't get anything. Why, you can't live on it, can you?"

He was a brotherly sort of creature in his demeanour. When he had scouted the idea of that kind of toil, he took another tack. Carrie was really very pretty. Even then, in her commonplace garb, her figure was evidently not bad, and her eyes were large and gentle. Drouet looked at her and his thoughts reached home. She felt his admiration. It was powerfully backed by his liberality and good-humour. She felt that she liked him-that she could continue to like him ever so much. There was something even richer than that, running as a hidden strain, in her mind. Every little while her eyes would meet his, and by that means the interchanging 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, the influence he was exerting was powerful. They came to an understanding of each other without words--he of her situation, she of the fact that he realised it.

"No," he said, "you can't make it!" genuine sympathy filling his mind for 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 loose bills in his vest pocket--greenbacks. They were soft and noiseless, and he 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 some clothes."

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

She had her hand out on the table before her. They were quite alone in their 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 held it fast, and she no longer protested. Then he slipped the greenbacks he had 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 affection now. They went out, and he walked with her far out south toward Polk Street, 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 the matinee. Will you?"

Carrie protested a while, but acquiesced.

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

She scarcely gave a thought to the complication which would trouble her when 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 before her to draw off trouble. The money she had accepted was two soft, green, handsome ten-dollar bills.

那天晚上回到家时，嘉莉感到公寓里的气氛与往日不同。

其实一切都没变，只是她的情绪变了，这使得她对这个家有了新认识。敏妮受了当初嘉莉找到工作时兴奋情绪影响，现在正等着听好消息，而汉生则认为嘉莉有了工作该知足了。

“怎么样？”当他穿着工作服走进门厅时，他隔着门问嘉莉，她正在隔壁的吃饭间，“今天干得怎么样？”“不好，”嘉莉说道，“这个活太累了，我不喜欢。”她身上流露出的神气比任何话语更明白地表示她又累又失望。

“干的是什么活？”在转身进洗澡间之前他停留了一会儿，问道。

“开一台机器，”嘉莉回答。

显然，他关心的只是嘉莉的工资会增加家庭收入这一点，至于别的他并不关心。他有点恼怒，因为嘉莉那么幸运地找到了工作，却竟然不满意这个活。

敏妮烧饭时已经不像嘉莉回来前那样兴致勃勃了，煎肉的咝咝声也不像刚才那样听上去令人愉快了：嘉莉已经表示她对工作不满。至于嘉莉，在辛劳一天以后唯一渴望得到的安慰是一个欢乐的家，一个满怀同情接待她的家，能够开开心心地吃一顿晚饭，听到有人对她说上句：“这样吧，再坚持一段时间，你会找到个更好一点的工作。”可是如今这一切都成了泡影。她看出他们对她的抱怨不以为然，他们只希望她不出怨言地继续干下去。她知道她要为食宿付４块钱。她感到和这些人住在一起，生活太枯燥无味了。

敏妮实在不是她妹妹的好伴侣--她的年纪太大了。她的思想已经定形，安于一板一眼地顺应现实。至于汉生，如果他有什么愉快的想法或者快乐的情绪，至少从表面上是看不出来的。他的思想感情从来不流露出来，他安静得就像一间没人住的房间。而嘉莉呢，她的身上奔流着青春的血液，脑子里充满着幻想。她还没有恋爱，谈情说爱对她来说还是个神秘的谜。她耽于想象，想象她想做的事，她想穿的衣服，她想逛的地方。她脑子里整天想的就是这些事。可是在这里，没有人提起她感兴趣的事，她的情感也得不到共鸣响应，这使她感到事事不顺心。

她一心只想着白天的遭遇，又要向她姐姐姐夫解释自己的工作，所以把杜洛埃可能来访的事早忘到九霄云外去了。现在看出他们夫妻俩不爱应酬待客的脾气，她希望他还是别来。

她不知道万一杜洛埃来的话她该怎么办，怎么向他解释。吃过晚饭，她换了衣服。她穿戴齐整时，真是个可爱的小姑娘，长着大大的眼睛忧伤的嘴，她脸上流露出期望、不满和郁郁寡欢的复杂表情。碗碟收拾起来以后，她在屋里转悠了一会儿，和敏妮聊了几句，就决定到楼下去，在楼梯脚站一会儿。如果杜洛埃来了，她可以在那里碰到他。她戴上帽子下去，脸上露出了几分高兴的神色。

“嘉莉好像不喜欢她的工作。”汉生手里拿着报纸到吃饭间来坐几分钟，敏妮于是告诉她丈夫。

“无论如何，她应该干一段时间再说，”汉生说道。“她下楼去了吗？”“是啊，”她答道。

“我是你的话，我会劝她做下去。不然的话，也许会好几个星期找不到活干呢。”敏妮答应和嘉莉说说。于是汉生继续看他的报纸。

“我是你的话，”过了一会儿他又开口说，"我不会让她到楼下去站在门口。姑娘家站在外面不成体统。”“我会对她说的，”敏妮说。

街上人来人往，嘉莉感兴趣地久久看着。她不断猜想着那些坐在车上的人要到哪里去，他们有些什么消遣娱乐。她想象的面很窄，不外乎是在跟金钱、打扮、衣服、娱乐有关的事上打转转。她有时也想到遥远的哥伦比亚城，或者懊恼地想到她那天的经历。不过总的来说，她周围马路这小小的世界吸引了她全部的注意力。

汉生家的公寓在三楼，一楼是个面包店。嘉莉正站在那里，汉生下楼来买面包。直到他走到她身旁，她才注意到他。

“我是来买面包的，”走到嘉莉身边时，他这么说了一句。

思想有传染性，这一点现在又显示了出来。尽管汉生确实是下来买面包的，他脑子里却想到，这下他可以瞧瞧嘉莉究竟在干什么了。他怀着这个念头刚走近她，她马上意识到了他的心思。当然她自己也不明白她怎么会想到这一点的，可是她开始打心眼里讨厌他。她明白了她不喜欢他，因为这人疑心病太重。

思想会影响人对周围事物的观感。嘉莉的思绪被打断了，所以汉生上楼不久，她也上了楼。时间已经过去几刻钟了，她明白杜洛埃不会来了。不知为什么她对杜洛埃有些不满，就好像她受人嫌弃不值得眷顾似的。她上了楼。楼上静悄悄，敏妮正坐在桌旁就着灯光缝衣服，汉生已上床睡了。疲劳和失望使她没有心情多说话，她只说了一声她想上床睡了。

“是啊，你最好去睡吧，”敏妮答道。“你明天还要早起。”第二天早上嘉莉的心情并没有好起来。她从自己睡的房间出来时，汉生正要出门。吃早饭时，敏妮想跟她聊聊，可是她们之间共同感兴趣的事情并不多。像前一天一样，嘉莉步行去上班。她已经认识到，她的４块半大洋在付了食宿以后，剩下的钱连车费也不够。这样的安排也许会令人伤心，但是早上的阳光驱走了当天最初的疑云愁雾：朝阳总是这样的。

在鞋厂，她熬过了长长的一天，不像前一天那么累，但是新鲜感也大大地不如前一天。工头在车间巡视时，在她的机器旁停了下来。

“你从哪里来的？”他问道。

“布朗先生雇来的，”她回答。

“哦，是他雇的。”然后他又加了一句，“你要跟上趟，别让人等你。”那些女工给她的印象比昨天还差。她们看来安于命运，只是些庸人之辈。嘉莉比她们多一些想象力，她也不习惯讲粗话。在穿着打扮上，她的眼力和趣味天生高人一筹。她不喜欢听旁边那女工说话，那人可以说是个老油子了。

“我不打算在这里做了，”那人正在对身旁的女工说，“这里的工资这么低，每天还要干到这么晚，我可吃不消。”她们和车间的男工，不管老少，都很随便，用粗野的话互相斗嘴打趣。那些粗话一开始着实吓了她一跳。她看出她们把她当做同类看待，因此和她说话时用的是同一种口气。

“喂，”中午休息时一个胳膊粗壮的做鞋底男工对她说：“你真是个小美人。”他以为她会像别的女工那样回敬他：“去，滚你的！”可是嘉莉一声不响地走开了，他讨了个没趣，尴尬地咧着嘴笑着走掉了。

那天晚上在姐姐家的公寓里，她感到更孤单了--这种枯燥无味的生活越来越难以忍受。她看得出汉生一家很少有客人来访，也许根本就没有客人上门。站在临街的大门口朝外看，她大着胆子往外走了一点儿。她的悠闲的步子和无所事事的神气引起了旁人的注意。这种注意虽然令人生气，其实也平常得很。她正走着，一个３０来岁衣冠楚楚的男人走过她身边，看了看她，放慢了脚步，然后又折转回来对她搭腔说：“今晚出来散散步，是吗？”嘉莉对这种主动搭腔微微吃了一惊。她诧异地看着他，惊慌之余回了一句：“喂，我不认识你。”一边说一边往后退却。

“噢，那没关系的，”那人和气地回答。

她不敢再说什么，慌忙退却，逃到自己家门口时已经上气不接下气了。那人的眼神中有一种让她害怕的东西。

那一星期剩下几天的情况大同小异。有一两个晚上下班时，她实在累得走不动了，只好花钱搭车回家。她身体不壮实，整天坐在那里干活使她腰酸背痛。有一天晚上，她甚至比汉生早上床去睡觉。

花儿移栽往往并不成功，少女们换了环境也是如此。移栽要想成活，必须有更肥沃的土壤和更良好的生长环境。如果嘉莉不是那么急剧地改变生活方式，而是逐渐地适应新的水土，事情也许会好些。要是她没有这么快找到工作，而有时间多看看她很想了解的城市，她会感到更适应一些。

第一个下雨天的早上，她发现自己需要一把桑敏妮借了一把给她，是一把褪了颜色的旧桑嘉莉思想上有虚荣心，因此对这旧伞很烦恼。她到一家大百货公司去买了一把新伞，从她小小的积蓄中花掉了１元２角５分。

“你买这个干什么呀，嘉莉？”敏妮看到新伞就说道。

“嗯，我要用，”嘉莉说。

“你呀，真是个傻丫头。”

嘉莉对敏妮的责备很不以为然，可是她什么也没有说。她想，她可不想做一普通的女工，她们别把她看错了。

第一个星期六的晚上，嘉莉付了４块钱的伙食费。敏妮接过钱时，良心很不安。但是她不敢少收钱，因为那样的话，她没法向汉生交代。那位可敬的先生乐孜孜地少拿出４块钱用于家庭开销，心里想着要增加投资买地皮。至于嘉莉，她在考虑如何用剩下的这５角钱解决买衣和娱乐的问题。她左思右想，想不出个办法，最后她烦恼得不愿再想下去了。

“我到街上去走走，”吃过晚饭她说。

“你不是一个人去吧？”汉生问。

“是我一个人去，”嘉莉回答。

“要是我的话，我不会一个人出去，”敏妮说。

“我想去外面看看，”嘉莉答道。她说最后那几个字的口气par使他们第一次意识到她不喜欢他们。

“她怎么啦？”当她到前屋去取帽子时，汉生问道。

“我也不知道，”敏妮说。

“她该懂点事了，不能一个人在外面跑。”不过嘉莉最终并没有走远。她折回来站在门口，第二天他们到加菲尔公园去玩，但是嘉莉玩得并不开心。她看上去气色不好。第二天在车间里，她听到女工们在添油加醋地谈论她们那些微不足道的消遣。她们星期天玩得很开心。接着一连下了几天雨，嘉莉把车钱用完了。有一天晚上下班时，她去凡布伦街坐电车，全身都淋湿了。整个晚上，她一个人坐在前屋看着外面的街道出神，湿漉漉的路面上反映出灯光。她越想心情越感到忧郁。

第二个星期六，她又付了４块钱。当她把剩下的５毛钱揣进口袋时，心里感到绝望。她和车间里的有些女工现在已结识，能一块儿说上几句。从她们的谈话中，她得知她们从工资中留下自己花的钱比她多，她们还有小伙子带她们出去玩。不过那些小伙子都属于嘉莉自认识杜洛埃以后不屑理睬的那类人。她讨厌车间里那些轻浮的青工，他们中没有一个举止文雅。当然她所看到的只是他们平常干活时的这一面。

终于有一天，预示严冬即将来临的第一阵寒流侵袭了城市。寒风使白云在天上疾驰，高烟囱里冒出的烟让风刮得成了一条条薄薄的横幅，一直飘出去很远很远。狂风在街头拐角肆虐，横冲直撞。嘉莉现在面临着冬衣的问题。她该怎么办呢？

她没有冬天穿的外套、帽子、鞋子。这事很难对敏妮开口，但她最后还是鼓起了勇气。

“我不知道我的冬衣怎么办，”一天傍晚她们俩在一起时，她开口说道，“我需要一顶帽子。”敏妮脸色很严肃。

“那你何不留下一点钱买一顶呢？”她提议说，但是心里很发愁，嘉莉少付了钱以后该怎么办。

“如果你不介意的话，这一两个星期我想少付一点钱，”嘉莉试探着说。

“你能付２块钱吗？”

嘉莉赶忙点头答应了。她很高兴，总算摆脱了这个为难的问题。因为冬衣有了着落心里松了一口气，立刻兴致勃勃地开始核计。她首先需要买一顶帽子。至于敏妮是如何向汉生解释的，她从没问过。他没有说什么，不过从屋里的气氛可以看出他很不高兴。

要不是疾病打岔，这新安排本来是可行的。一天下午雨后起了寒风，当时嘉莉还没有外套。６点钟从暖和的车间出来，冷风一吹，她不禁打了一个寒噤。第二天早上她开始打喷嚏，到城里去上班使病情加重了。那一天她骨头疼了起来，人感到头重脚轻的。到了傍晚，她感到病得很重了。回到家时，她一点胃口也没有。敏妮注意到她萎靡不振的样子，就问她怎么了。

“我也不知道，”嘉莉说，“我感到人很难受。”她蜷缩在炉子旁，冷得打颤。上床去的时候，病已不轻了。

第二天早上，她发起了高烧。

敏妮为这事很忧愁，不过态度一直很温和。汉生说，也许她该回去住些日子。三天后她能起床时，她的工作当然已经丢了。冬天已在眼前，她还没有冬衣，现在她又失了业。

“我不知道怎么办，”嘉莉说，“星期一我去看看能不能找个活儿干。”她这次找工作，如果说和上次有什么不同的话，那就是结果更糟。她的衣服根本不适合秋天穿，最后那点钱已经用来买了一顶帽子。整整三天，她在街上转悠，灰溜溜的。敏妮家的气氛很快变得难以忍受，每天傍晚她都怕回到那里去。汉生神情非常冷淡。她知道，目前这局面不能维持多长时间了，很快她就得一切作罢，卷铺盖回家。

第四天，她整天在商业区奔波，从敏妮那里借了一毛钱在街上吃午饭。她到那些最低贱的地方去申请工作，仍然毫无结果。她甚至到一个小饭店应征当女招待，可是人家不要没有经验的姑娘。她在大群陌生人中走着，彻底地心灰意冷了。突然有人拉住了她的胳膊，使她转过身来。

“喂，喂，”有人在叫她。她一眼看到这是杜洛埃。他不仅气色很好，而且容光焕发，简直是阳光和欢乐的化身。“嘿，你怎么样，嘉莉？”他说，“你真是个小美人。你上哪里去了？”他的亲切友好像一股不可抗拒的暖流，嘉莉不禁微笑了。

“我出来走走。”她说。

“你瞧，”他说，“我看到你在马路对面，我就猜是你。我出来正想上你那儿去。不管怎么说，你好吗？”“我还好，”嘉莉微笑着说。

杜洛埃上下打量着她，看出嘉莉有些变化。

“嗯，”他说，“我想和你聊聊。你没有要上哪里去吧？”“眼下没有，”嘉莉说。

“那我们上那里去吃点东西。天哪，见到你真是太高兴了。”和兴致勃勃的杜洛埃在一起，嘉莉感到心里轻松了，感到有人在关心她，照顾她，所以她高高兴兴地同意了他的提议，尽管还稍稍带点矜持的神气。

“来吧，”他说着挽起了她的手臂。他说这话时情意拳拳，使她心里感到很温暖。

他们穿过门罗街，来到老温莎餐馆。那家餐馆当时是家很舒适的大饭店，烹调手艺高超，服务热情周到。杜洛埃选了一个靠窗子的桌子，从那里可以看到街上喧闹的景象。他喜欢不断变化的街景，边吃着饭，边看着行人，同时也让行人看到自己。

“好了，”他等嘉莉和自己舒舒服服坐定以后，开口说道，“你想吃些什么？”嘉莉看着招待递给她的大菜单，并没想去点什么菜。她很饿，菜单上的东西更激起了她的食欲，但是她注意到那上面的价格很昂贵。“嫩烤仔鸡--７角５分；嫩牛排配蘑菇--１美元２角５分。”她曾模模糊糊听人说起过这些东西，可要从菜单上点这些菜，有些不可思议。

“我来点吧，”杜洛埃叫了起来。“喂，招待。”那招待是个胸脯宽阔的圆脸黑人。他走近桌子，侧耳听候吩咐。

“嫩牛排配蘑菇，”杜洛埃说道，“西红柿塞肉。”“是，"黑人点头应道。

“土豆肉酱。”

“是。”

“芦笋。”

“是。”

“再来一壶咖啡。”

杜洛埃转身对嘉莉说：“吃了早饭到现在，我还没有吃过什么东西呢。我刚从洛克岛回来。我正要去吃午饭就看到了你。"嘉莉开心地笑了又笑。

“你这一向在做些什么？”他继续说，“跟我说说你的情况。

你姐姐怎么样？”

“她很好，”嘉莉说。她只回答了他后面那个问题。

他仔细地打量着她。

“我说，”他又问，“你生病了，是吗？”

嘉莉点点头。

“哎呀，这太糟糕了，是不是？你看上去气色不好。我刚才就觉得你脸色有点苍白。你在做些什么？”“在上班，”嘉莉说。

“真的！在哪里？”

她告诉了他。

“罗·摩斯公司--那家商号我知道。在第五大街那里，是不是？那是家很抠门的商号，你干吗上那里干活？”“我找不到别的工作，”嘉莉坦白相告。

“这太不像话了，”杜洛埃说，“你不该给这种人干活的。他们的厂就在高店后面，是吗？”“是的，”嘉莉说。

“那家商号不好，”杜洛埃说。“无论如何，你不应该在那种地方干活。”他滔滔不绝地说着，问问这个，讲讲那个，一会儿谈谈自己的情况，一会儿又告诉她这家饭店有多棒，一直讲到招待托着大托盘回来，里面装着刚才点的美味佳肴，还冒着热气。杜洛埃在布菜招待上很拿手。他坐在铺着白桌布摆着银餐盘的桌子后面，舒展着手臂，举刀拿叉，显得潇洒大方。用餐刀切肉时，他手上好几个戒指熠熠生辉，引人注目。他伸手去拿盘子，撕面包，或者倒咖啡，他身上的新衣服就发出窸窣声。他给嘉莉挟了满满一大盘菜，态度又那么热情，让嘉莉感到温暖，使她完全变了一个人。他确实是人们通常认为的那种漂亮角色，所以把嘉莉完全迷住了。

这个追求幸福的小骑士，毫无愧色地接受了这新的好运。

她稍稍感到有些不自在，但是这大餐厅使她宽心，看看窗外那些服装华丽的人流，也似乎令人振奋。啊，没有钱是多么让人苦恼！能有钱到这里来吃饭多么开心！杜洛埃一定是幸运儿。

他有机会坐火车旅行，穿得起这么漂亮的衣服，又身强力壮，能在这么漂亮的地方吃饭。他看上去真是个堂堂男子汉，这么一个人物竟然向她表示友谊和关怀，使她不胜诧异。

“这么说，你因为生病，所以丢了工作，是吗？”他说，“你现在打算怎么办呢？”“到处找工作啊，”她回答。一想到谋生的必要，像个紧追不舍的饿狗，等在这豪华大餐厅的外面，她的眼中掠过一丝忧愁。

“噢，不！”杜洛埃说，“那怎么行。你找了多久了？”“四天了，”她回答。

“想想看！”他说，讲话的神气像是在对某个有疑问的人演讲，“你不该做这种事情的。这些姑娘们，”他手一挥，把所有的女店员和女工都包括了进去，“是不会有什么出息的。你总不能靠此生活吧，对不对？”他的态度，像个哥哥。当他驳够了做苦工的念头以后，他的思想转到了别的上面。嘉莉真是漂亮，即使眼下穿着简朴的衣服，她仍显得身材不凡，她的眼睛大而温柔。杜洛埃注视着她，眉目传情。她感觉到了他的倾慕。他的倾慕，加上他的慷慨大方，愉快和气，使她认为自己喜欢上了他--她会一直这么喜欢他的。她的心里还有一股比喜欢更深厚的感情暗流。他们的目光不时相接，交流和沟通了他们之间的感情。

“你留在市中心和我一起去看戏，好吗？”他说着，把他的椅子挪近了一些，那桌子本来就不大。

“嗯，我不能，”她说。

“你今晚有什么事吗？”

“没事，”她情绪忧郁地说。

“你不喜欢你现在住的地方，是吗？”

“我也不知道。”

“如果找不到工作，你打算怎么办呢？”“我猜想，得回老家去。”她这么说时，声音几乎没有颤抖。不知怎么，他对她的影响会有这么大。他们不用说话，就互相了解了-—他理解她的处境，而她明白他理解这个事实。

“不，”他说，“你不能回去。”一时间他心里充满了真正的同情。“让我帮助你，我给你钱。”“噢，那不行！”她说着，向后一靠。

“那你怎么办呢？”他问。

她坐在那里沉思，只是摇了一下头。

他非常温柔地看着她，就他天性而言，实在是温柔之极了。在他的西装背心口袋里有些零碎票子--绿颜色的美钞。

它们软绵绵的没有沙沙声。他的手指握住了这些钞票，把它们捏在手心。

“来，”他说，“我来帮你渡过难关。给你自己买些衣服。”这是他第一次提到衣服的问题，这使她想起自己寒酸的衣服。他用自己直来直去的方式一下子说到了点子上。她的嘴唇禁不住微微颤抖。

她的手放在桌子上。他们俩坐的角落里没有旁人。他把自己大而温暖的手放在她的手上。

“来吧，嘉莉，”他说，“你一个人能有什么办法呢？让我来帮助你吧。”他温柔地握着她的手，她想把手抽出来，可是他握得更紧了。于是她不再抗拒，他把手上的钞票塞进她手心里。当她想要推辞时，他在她耳边轻声说：“算我借给你的--那没关系的。算我借给你的。”他强迫她收了下来。她现在感到一种感情的纽带把他们联系在一起。他们从饭馆出来，他一路说着话，陪她一直朝南边的波克街走去。

“你不想和那些人住在一起吧？”走在路上时，他边想心事边问道。嘉莉听见了他的问话，不过没有太注意。

“明天到市中心来见我，好吗？”他说，“我们一起去看下午场的戏。”嘉莉开始推托了一会，但最后还是同意了。

“你什么也别做。给自己买一双漂亮的鞋子和一件外套。”她几乎没去考虑自己的尴尬处境。直到分手以后这个问题才开始困扰她。和他在一起，她和他一样乐观，认为一切都好解决。

“不要为那些人烦恼，”分手时他说，“我会帮你的。”嘉莉离开他时，感到似乎有一个强有力的胳膊向她伸来，帮她把一切麻烦赶跑。她接受的是两张软软的，漂亮的１０元绿色钞票。