Sister Carrie / Сестра Кэрри. Книга для чтения на английском языке. Теодор Драйзер

When Carrie saw how they looked upon her proposition, she gained a still clearer feeling of their way of life. It weighted 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 dinning-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 wastefulness which a young girl might indulge in, and wondering how Carrie could contemplate 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, humdrum place, and that interest and joy lay elsewhere. Her thoughts now were of a more liberal character, and she punctuated 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 crumpled, flattened 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 dinning-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 concealing, nevertheless, a few red embers of hope. So subdued was she by her weakening nerve, 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 vaguely feeling that she would come in contact with the great owners, that her work would be where grave, stylishly 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.

      Carrie went straight forward until she crossed the river, and then turned into Fifth Avenue. The thoroughfare, in this part, was like a walled cacon of brown stone and clean.

      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 aisles of boxes piled to the ceiling. She stood, very much frightened, awaiting some one.

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

      “What is it you want?” he inquired.

      Carrie’s heart sank.

      “You said I should come this morning to see about work –”.

      “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 aprons[16] were working. She followed him diffidently through the clattering automatons, 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 signaled 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 center.

      “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 promptly and gave Carrie her place.

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

      She suited action to work, fastened the piece of leather, which was eventually to form the right half of the upper of a man’s shoe, by little adjustable 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 bent anxiously to her task. The girls at her left and right realized her predicament and feelings, and, in a way, tried to aid her, as much as they dared, by working slower.

      At this task she labored incessantly 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 odor 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 fumbling 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 thumped 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 sufficiently 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,

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gingham apron – холщовый фартук