Carrie stood waiting a moment, hardly certain whether the
interview had terminated.

"Don't wait!" he exclaimed. "Remember we are very busy here."

Carrie began to move quickly to the door.

"Hold on," he said, calling her back. "Give me your name and
address. We want girls occasionally."

When she had gotten safely into the street, she could scarcely
restrain the tears. It was not so much the particular rebuff
which she had just experienced, but the whole abashing trend of
the day. She was tired and nervous. She abandoned the thought
of appealing to the other department stores and now wandered on,
feeling a certain safety and relief in mingling with the crowd.

In her indifferent wandering she turned into Jackson Street, not
far from the river, and was keeping her way along the south side
of that imposing thoroughfare, when a piece of wrapping paper,
written on with marking ink and tacked up on the door, attracted
her attention. It read, "Girls wanted--wrappers & stitchers."
She hesitated a moment, then entered.

The firm of Speigelheim & Co., makers of boys' caps, occupied one
floor of the building, fifty feet in width and some eighty feet
in depth. It was a place rather dingily lighted, the darkest
portions having incandescent lights, filled with machines and
work benches. At the latter laboured quite a company of girls
and some men. The former were drabby-looking creatures, stained