Minnie's flat, as the one-floor resident apartments were then being called, was in a part of West Van Buren Street inhabited by families of labourers and clerks, men who had come, and were still coming, with the rush of population pouring in at the rate of 50,000 a year. It was on the third floor, the front windows looking down into the street, where, at night, the lights of grocery stores were shining and children were playing. To Carrie, the sound of the little bells upon the horse-cars, as they tinkled in and out of hearing, was as pleasing as it was novel. She gazed into the lighted street when Minnie brought her into the front room, and wondered at the sounds, the movement, the murmur of the vast city which stretched for miles and miles in every direction.
Mrs. Hanson, after the first greetings were over, gave Carrie the baby and proceeded to get supper. Her husband asked a few questions and sat down to read the evening paper. He was a silent man, American born, of a Swede father, and now employed as a cleaner of refrigerator cars at the stock-yards. To him the presence or absence of his wife's sister was a matter of indifference. Her personal appearance did not affect him one way or the other. His one observation to the point was concerning the chances of work in Chicago.
"It's a big place," he said. "You can get in somewhere in a few days. Everybody does."
It had been tacitly understood beforehand that she was to get work and pay her board. He was of a clean, saving disposition, and had already paid a number of monthly instalments on two lots far out on the West Side. His ambition was some day to build a house on them.
In the interval which marked the preparation of the meal Carrie found time to study the flat. She had some slight gift of observation and that sense, so rich in every woman--intuition.
She felt the drag of a lean and narrow life. The walls of the rooms were discordantly papered. The floors were covered with matting and the hall laid with a thin rag carpet. One could see that the furniture was of that poor, hurriedly patched together quality sold by the instalment houses.
She sat with Minnie, in the kitchen, holding the baby until it began to cry. Then she walked and sang to it, until Hanson, disturbed in his reading, came and took it. A pleasant side to his nature came out here. He was patient. One could see that he was very much wrapped up in his offspring.
"Now, now," he said, walking. "There, there," and there was a certain Swedish accent noticeable in his voice.
"You'll want to see the city first, won't you?" said Minnie, when they were eating. "Well, we'll go out Sunday and see Lincoln Park.
Carrie noticed that Hanson had said nothing to this. He seemed to be thinking of something else.
"Well," she said, "I think I'll look around tomorrow. I've got Friday and Saturday, and it won't be any trouble. Which way is the business part?"
Minnie began to explain, but her husband took this part of the conversation to himself.
"It's that way," he said, pointing east. "That's east." Then he went off into the longest speech he had yet indulged in, concerning the lay of Chicago. "You'd better look in those big manufacturing houses along Franklin Street and just the other side of the river," he concluded. "Lots of girls work there. You could get home easy, too. It isn't very far."
Carrie nodded and asked her sister about the neighbourhood. The latter talked in a subdued tone, telling the little she knew about it, while Hanson concerned himself with the baby. Finally he jumped up and handed the child to his wife.
"I've got to get up early in the morning, so I'll go to bed," and off he went, disappearing into the dark little bedroom off the hall, for the night.
"He works way down at the stock-yards," explained Minnie, "so he's got to get up at half-past five."
"What time do you get up to get breakfast?" asked Carrie.
"At about twenty minutes of five."
Together they finished the labour of the day, Carrie washing the dishes while Minnie undressed the baby and put it to bed. Minnie's manner was one of trained industry, and Carrie could see that it was a steady round of toil with her.
She began to see that her relations with Drouet would have to be abandoned. He could not come here. She read from the manner of Hanson, in the subdued air of Minnie, and, indeed, the whole atmosphere of the flat, a settled opposition to anything save a conservative round of toil. If Hanson sat every evening in the front room and read his paper, if he went to bed at nine, and Minnie a little later, what would they expect of her? She saw that she would first need to get work and establish herself on a paying basis before she could think of having company of any sort. Her little flirtation with Drouet seemed now an extraordinary thing.
"No," she said to herself, "he can't come here."
She asked Minnie for ink and paper, which were upon the mantel in the dining-room, and when the latter had gone to bed at ten, got out Drouet's card and wrote him.
"I cannot have you call on me here. You will have to wait until you hear from me again. My sister's place is so small."
She troubled herself over what else to put in the letter. She wanted to make some reference to their relations upon the train, but was too timid. She concluded by thanking him for his kindness in a crude way, then puzzled over the formality of signing her name, and finally decided upon the severe, winding up with a "Very truly," which she subsequently changed to "Sincerely." She scaled and addressed the letter, and going in the front room, the alcove of which contained her bed, drew the one small rocking-chair up to the open window, and sat looking out upon the night and streets in silent wonder. Finally, wearied by her own reflections, she began to grow dull in her chair, and feeling the need of sleep, arranged her clothing for the night and went to bed.
When she awoke at eight the next morning, Hanson had gone. Her sister was busy in the dining-room, which was also the sitting-room, sewing. She worked, after dressing, to arrange a little breakfast for herself, and then advised with Minnie as to which way to look. The latter had changed considerably since Carrie had seen her. She was now a thin, though rugged, woman of twenty-seven, with ideas of life coloured by her husband's, and fast hardening into narrower conceptions of pleasure and duty than had ever been hers in a thoroughly circumscribed youth. She had invited Carrie, not because she longed for her presence, but because the latter was dissatisfied at home, and could probably get work and pay her board here. She was pleased to see her in a way but reflected her husband's point of view in the matter of work. Anything was good enough so long as it paid--say, five dollars a week to begin with. A shop girl was the destiny prefigured for the newcomer. She would get in one of the great shops and do well enough until--well, until something happened. Neither of them knew exactly what. They did not figure on promotion. They did not exactly count on marriage. Things would go on, though, in a dim kind of way until the better thing would eventuate, and Carrie would be rewarded for coming and toiling in the city. It was under such auspicious circumstances that she started out this morning to look for work.
Before following her in her round of seeking, let us look at the sphere in which her future was to lie. In 1889 Chicago had the peculiar qualifications of growth which made such adventuresome pilgrimages even on the part of young girls plausible. Its many and growing commercial opportunities gave it widespread fame, which made of it a giant magnet, drawing to itself, from all quarters, the hopeful and the hopeless--those who had their fortune yet to make and those whose fortunes and affairs had reached a disastrous climax elsewhere. It was a city of over 500,000, with the ambition, the daring, the activity of a metropolis of a million. Its streets and houses were already scattered over an area of seventy-five square miles. Its population was not so much thriving upon established commerce as upon the industries which prepared for the arrival of others. The sound of the hammer engaged upon the erection of new structures was everywhere heard. Great industries were moving in. The huge railroad corporations which had long before recognised the prospects of the place had seized upon vast tracts of land for transfer and shipping purposes. Street-car lines had been extended far out into the open country in anticipation of rapid growth. The city had laid miles and miles of streets and sewers through regions where, perhaps, one solitary house stood out alone--a pioneer of the populous ways to be. There were regions open to the sweeping winds and rain, which were yet lighted throughout the night with long, blinking lines of gas-lamps, fluttering in the wind. Narrow board walks extended out, passing here a house, and there a store, at far intervals, eventually ending on the open prairie.
In the central portion was the vast wholesale and shopping district, to which the uninformed seeker for work usually drifted. It was a characteristic of Chicago then, and one not generally shared by other cities, that individual firms of any pretension occupied individual buildings. The presence of ample ground made this possible. It gave an imposing appearance to most of the wholesale houses, whose offices were upon the ground floor and in plain view of the street. The large plates of window glass, now so common, were then rapidly coming into use, and gave to the ground floor offices a distinguished and prosperous look. The casual wanderer could see as he passed a polished array of office fixtures, much frosted glass, clerks hard at work, and genteel businessmen in "nobby" suits and clean linen lounging about or sitting in groups. Polished brass or nickel signs at the square stone entrances announced the firm and the nature of the business in rather neat and reserved terms. The entire metropolitan centre possessed a high and mighty air calculated to overawe and abash the common applicant, and to make the gulf between poverty and success seem both wide and deep.
Into this important commercial region the timid Carrie went. She walked east along Van Buren Street through a region of lessening importance, until it deteriorated into a mass of shanties and coal-yards, and finally verged upon the river. She walked bravely forward, led by an honest desire to find employment and delayed at every step by the interest of the unfolding scene, and a sense of helplessness amid so much evidence of power and force which she did not understand. These vast buildings, what were they? These strange energies and huge interests, for what purposes were they there? She could have understood the meaning of a little stone-cutter's yard at Columbia City, carving little pieces of marble for individual use, but when the yards of some huge stone corporation came into view, filled with spur tracks and flat cars, transpierced by docks from the river and traversed overhead by immense trundling cranes of wood and steel, it lost all significance in her little world.
It was so with the vast railroad yards, with the crowded array of vessels she saw at the river, and the huge factories over the way, lining the water's edge. Through the open windows she could see the figures of men and women in working aprons, moving busily about. The great streets were wall-lined mysteries to her; the vast offices, strange mazes which concerned far-off individuals of importance. She could only think of people connected with them as counting money, dressing magnificently, and riding in carriages. What they dealt in, how they laboured, to what end it all came, she had only the vaguest conception. It was all wonderful, all vast, all far removed, and she sank in spirit inwardly and fluttered feebly at the heart as she thought of entering any one of these mighty concerns and asking for something to do--something that she could do--anything.
嘉莉的姐姐敏妮住的是公寓，那是当时对占据一个楼面的套房的称呼。公寓在西凡布仑街，是个工人和职员的居民区。这些人来自外地，现在还不断有人搬来。芝加哥的人口以每年五万人的速度骤增。她的房间在三楼。前屋的窗子临街。
一到夜里，杂货店里大放光明，孩子们在街上玩。马车驶过时，车上的铃铛叮当叮当地响起，直到渐渐消失在远处。对于嘉莉来说，这铃声不仅新奇而且令人愉快。敏妮带她走进前屋后，她的目光便投向了窗外灯火通明的马路，对于大城市的各种声音，各种活动和向方圆几英里弥漫的嗡嗡声不由感到新奇惊讶。
在刚见面的寒暄过后，嘉莉的姐姐汉生太太把婴儿交给嘉莉，就动手去烧晚饭了。她的丈夫问了几句话，就坐下来看晚报。他是个沉默寡言的人，美国出生，父亲是瑞典人，他本人是畜牧场冷藏车的清洁工。对他来说，小姨子来不来，与他无关。她的来到既不使他高兴也不让他恼火。他和嘉莉说的唯一正经话题是在芝加哥打工的机会问题。
“这里是大地方。”他说，“几天内就能在哪里找个活干，每个人都是这样的。”他们事先已达成默契，嘉莉得找份工作，付伙食费。他为人正直，生活节俭，在很远的芝加哥西区用分期付款的办法定购了两块地皮，已经付了几个月了。他的野心是有朝一日在那地皮上盖起一栋房子。
趁她姐姐烧饭的空隙，嘉莉打量了公寓。她有那么几分观察的天赋和女性特有的直觉。
她意识到他们的日子很艰难。房间的墙是拼凑的纸糊的，颜色很不协调。地板上铺的是草席，只有起居间铺了一块薄薄的破地毯。看得出家俱是仓促间凑合起来的，是那种分期付款商店卖的质量很差的货色。
她手里抱着孩子坐在厨房里，和敏妮在一起，直到孩子哭了。于是她站了起来，来回走动着，嘴里哼着歌哄孩子。汉生被孩子的哭声吵得看不成报了，就走了过来，接过孩子。这里显出了他性格中可喜的一面：他很有耐心。看得出他很喜爱自己的孩子。
“好了好了，别哭了。”他一边走动一边对婴儿说话，他的声音里带有一点瑞典口音。
“你一定想先在城里看看，是不是？”吃饭时敏妮说道。“这样吧，我们星期天上林肯公园去。”嘉莉注意到汉生对这个提议不置可否。他似乎在想别的事。
“不过我想明天先四处看看，”她说。“我还有星期五和星期六两天空闲。这不会有什么麻烦的。商业区在哪里？”敏妮开始解释。但是她丈夫把这个话题包揽了过去。
“在那边，”他指着东边说道，“在东面。”于是他开始了嘉莉来后他的第一旋长篇大论，是关于芝加哥的城市布局的。
“你最好到河那边，沿富兰克林街看看那些工厂。”结束时他说，“许多女孩在那里工作。而且从那里回家方便，离这里不远。”嘉莉点点头，又向她姐姐打听附近的情况。她姐姐把自己所知道的那些情况低声地告诉她。这期间，汉生只顾自己逗孩子。最后他跳了起来，把孩子递给他妻子。
“我明天早上要起早，我得去睡了。”说着他就消失在起居间隔壁的卧室，上床去了。
“他在离这里很远的畜牧场上班，”敏妮解释说，“所以他5点半就要起床。”“那你什么时候起来准备早饭呢？”嘉莉问。
“5点差20分左右。”
她们一起把当天的事情做完。嘉莉洗碗，敏妮给孩子脱衣服，放他到床上去。敏妮的一举一动都显出她惯于吃苦耐劳。
嘉莉看得出，姐姐的日子就是整天手不停地干活。
她开始意识到，她必须放弃和杜洛埃的交往。不能让他上这里来。她从汉生的态度和敏妮压抑的神气看出，事实上，从这个公寓的整个气氛看出，这里的生活态度保守，一年到头除了干活，别的一切都是和他们格格不入的。汉生的日子就是每晚在前屋看报，9点上床，敏妮晚一点上床。他们对她的期待会是什么呢？她意识到她必须先找份工作，好有钱付食宿，安顿下来，然后才可以想到交朋友之类的事。她和杜洛埃的那一段小小的调情现在看来似乎出格了。
“不，”她心里思忖道，“他不能来这里。”她向敏妮要墨水和信纸，那些东西就在吃饭间的壁炉架上。等她姐姐10点上床，她就掏出杜洛埃的名片开始写信。
“我不能让你到这里来看我。等我下次写信再说。我姐姐家地方很窄。”她寻思着再写点什么，想提一提他们在火车上的那段交情，又不好意思。于是她只笼统地谢谢他在火车上的关心作为结束语。接着她又为如何写署名前的敬语费了一番心思。最后她决定用一本正经的口气写上“此致敬礼”，可是随后她又决定改为比较亲切的“祝好。”她封好信，写了地址，就走进前屋。前屋凹进去的地方摆着她的小床。她把那把唯一的小摇椅拖到开着的窗前，就坐在那里，静静地看着窗外的夜色和街道，心里默默地惊叹。最后她想累了，坐在椅子里感到睡意向她袭来，该上床了。于是她换上睡衣就睡了。
第二天8点钟她醒来时，汉生已去上班了。她姐姐正在那间吃饭间兼起居间的屋里忙着缝衣服。她穿上衣服，就给自己弄了点早饭，然后她问敏妮该去哪里看看。自从上次分手以后，敏妮变化很大。她现在是个27岁的妇女，虽然还硬朗，却已憔悴消瘦。她的人生观受了她丈夫的影响，所以她现在对娱乐和责任的看法比当初在小地方做少女时还要来得狭隘。她邀请嘉莉来，并不是因为想念她，而是因为嘉莉不满意在老家的生活。嘉莉在这里也许可以找份工作，自食其力。见到妹妹她当然也有几分高兴，但是在嘉莉找工作的问题上，她和她丈夫的看法一致。干什么工作是无所谓的，只要有工资就行，譬如说，一开头每周挣5块钱。他们事先认为她可以做个女店员。她可以进某个大店，在那里好好干，直到——怎么说呢？直到有那么一天喜从天降。他们并不确切知道会有什么喜事，他们并不指望她有提升的机会，也并不完全把希望寄托在结婚上。不过他们朦朦胧胧地感到事情总会有转机，于是嘉莉会得到酬报，不至于白白地到城里来辛苦一常那天早上，嘉莉就是抱着这种美好的愿望出门去找工作的。
在我们跟着嘉莉到处转悠找工作之前，让我们先来瞧瞧她寄予希望的这个世界。1889年芝加哥有着得天独厚的发展条件，甚至连年轻姑娘也会不畏风险地到这里来碰运气。它的大量经商机会远近闻名，使它成了一块巨大的磁铁，吸引着来自四面八方的人们，有的满怀希望，有的出于无可奈何。有的是来发财的，还有的则是在别的地方碰壁破产以后来的。这个人口五十多万的城市，具有一个成为百万人口大都市的野心，气魄和事业。街道和房屋分布在七十五平方英里的大面积上。
它的人口激增，不是由于传统的商业，而是由于各种工业。这些工业还在准备容纳更多新来的人。到处可以听到建造新楼的铁锤敲击声。大工业正在迁来。那些大铁路公司看出这个地方的前途，所以早就占下大片土地，用于发展交通运输业务。电车的路轨已铺到周围的旷野，因为已预见到那里会迅速发展。在那些只有零星房子分布的地区，城市也修起了一条一条长长的马路和下水道--这些都是未来繁华闹市的先驱。
有些开阔地区还没有房子遮风挡雨。然而一到夜里，一长排一长排煤气街灯就亮了起来，灯光在风里摇曳。窄窄的木板人行道向前伸展，这里经过一座房子，隔了老远，又在那里经过一个店铺，最后一直通到开阔的草原。
市中心是一个大商业中心，还经营批发业务。消息不灵通的人们经常到那里去找工作。每个大一点的商号都单独占据了一座楼，这是当时芝加哥不同于其他城市的地方。它们能这么做，是因为地方有的是。这一来，大多数批发商行看上去气势宏伟。写字间设在一楼，可以清楚地看到街上。大橱窗玻璃现在已很普通，当时刚被广泛采用，给一楼的写字间增添了富丽堂皇的风采。闲逛的人经过这些成套锃亮的办公设施时，可以看到许多毛玻璃，埋头工作的职员，还可以看到穿着笔挺西装干净衬衫的商人们散坐着，或者聚在一起。方石砌成的门口挂着闪光的铜牌或镍牌，上面用简洁谨慎的措辞标明商号的名称和性质。整个都市中心显出一种财大气粗，高不可攀的气势，为的是让那些普通的求职者望而生畏，不敢问津，也为的是让贫富之间的鸿沟显得又宽又深。
嘉莉怯生生地走进这个重要的商业区。她沿着凡布伦街朝东走，穿过一个不太豪华的地段，继续往前走，房子变得越来越一般，渐渐出现了简陋小屋和煤场，最后到了河边。求职的愿望促使她继续勇敢地往前走，展现在面前的有趣事物又不时使她停住脚步。面对着这些她无法理解的赫赫财势和力量，她不由感到孤独无靠。这些高楼大厦是干什么的？这些陌生的行业和大公司做些什么生意？她能理解哥伦比亚城那个小采石场的性质，它是把大理石切割成小块出售给私人。但是当她看到巨大的石料公司的采石场，看到里面纵横交错的铁路专线和平板车，穿入石场的河边码头，和头顶上方的木制钢制大吊车，她就莫明其妙了。她没有见过世面，当然不明白这些东西的性质。
那些巨大的火车站调车场，她在河边看到的那些密密排列的船只，还有对岸沿河的那些大工厂，同样让她摸不着头脑。通过开着的窗子她可以看见穿着工作围腰的男男女女在那里忙忙碌碌地走来走去。街上那些高墙耸立的商号对她来说又是一些不可捉摸的谜。那些大写字间就像一些神秘莫测的迷宫，另一头通向远方的大人物。关于那些商界人物，她只能想到他们点钞票，穿华服，和坐马车。至于他们做的是什么买卖，他们如何做买卖，他们的买卖有些什么结果，对这些问题她只有一些最模糊的概念。看到这一切如此了不起，如此宏伟，如此高不可攀，她不禁感到气馁。一想到要走进这么气派的商号找工作，找个她能做的工作--不管是什么工作，她就吓得心怦怦乱跳了。