Sister Carrie (Barnes & Noble Classics S - Theodore Dreiser [22]
“Well, young lady,” observed the old gentleman, looking at her somewhat kindly, “what is it you wish?”
“I am, that is, do you—I mean, do you need any help?” she stammered.
“Not just at present,” he answered smiling. “Not just at present. Come in some time next week. Occasionally we need some one.”
She received the answer in silence and backed awkwardly out. The pleasant nature of her reception rather astonished her. She had expected that it would be more difficult, that something cold and harsh would be said—she knew not what. That she had not been put to shame and made to feel her unfortunate position, seemed remarkable.
Somewhat encouraged, she ventured into another large structure. It was a clothing company, and more people were in evidence—well-dressed men of forty and more, surrounded by brass railings.
An office boy approached her.
“Who is it you wish to see?” he asked.
“I want to see the manager,” she said.
He ran away and spoke to one of a group of three men who were conferring together. One of these came towards her.
“Well?” he said coldly. The greeting drove all courage from her at once.
“Do you need any help?” she stammered.
“No,” he replied abruptly, and turned upon his heel.
She went foolishly out, the office boy deferentially swinging the door for her, and gladly sank into the obscuring crowd. It was a severe setback to her recently pleased mental state.
Now she walked quite aimlessly for a time, turning here and there, seeing one great company after another, but finding no courage to prosecute her single inquiry. High noon came, and with it hunger. She hunted out an unassuming restaurant and entered, but was disturbed to find that the prices were exorbitant for the size of her purse. A bowl of soup was all that she could afford, and, with this quickly eaten, she went out again. It restored her strength somewhat and made her moderately bold to pursue the search.
In walking a few blocks to fix upon some probable place, she again encountered the firm of Storm and King, and this time managed to get in. Some gentlemen were conferring close at hand, but took no notice of her. She was left standing, gazing nervously upon the floor. When the limit of her distress had been nearly reached, she was beckoned to by a man at one of the many desks within the near-by railing.
“Who is it you wish to see?” he inquired.
“Why, any one, if you please,” she answered. “I am looking for something to do.”
“Oh, you want to see Mr. McManus,” he returned. “Sit down,” and he pointed to a chair against the neighbouring wall. He went on leisurely writing, until after a time a short, stout gentleman came in from the street.
“Mr. McManus,” called the man at the desk, “this young woman wants to see you.”
The short gentleman turned about towards Carrie, and she arose and came forward.
“What can I do for you, miss?” he inquired, surveying her curiously.
“I want to know if I can get a position,” she inquired.
“As what?” he asked.
“Not as anything in particular,” she faltered.
“Have you ever had any experience in the wholesale dry goods business?” he questioned.
“No, sir,” she replied.
“Are you a stenographer or typewriter?”
“No, sir.”
“Well, we haven’t anything here,” he said. “We employ only experienced help.”
She began to step backward toward the door, when something about her plaintive face attracted him.
“Have you ever worked at anything before?” he inquired.
“No, sir,” she said.
“Well, now, it’s hardly possible that you would get anything to do in a wholesale house of this kind. Have you tried the department stores?”
She acknowledged that she had not.
“Well, if I were you,” he said, looking at her rather