Sister Carrie (Barnes & Noble Classics Series) by Theodore Dreiser Page B

followed her new superior to a little desk in a corner, which he used as a kind of official centre.
    “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 word, 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 realised her predicament and feelings, and, in a way, tried to aid her, as much as they dared, by working slower.
    At this task she laboured 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 odour 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, that her back was beginning to ache. She twisted and turned from one position to another slightly different, but it did not ease her for long. She was beginning to weary.
    “Stand up, why don’t you?” said the girl at her right, without any form of introduction. “They won’t care.”
    Carrie looked at her gratefully. “I guess I will,” she said.
    She stood up from her stool and worked that way for a while, but it was a more difficult position. Her neck and shoulders ached in bending over.
    The spirit of the place impressed itself on her in a rough way. She did not venture to look around, but above the clack of the machine she could hear an occasional remark. She could also note a thing or two out of the side of her eye.
    “Did you see Harry last night?” said the girl at her left, addressing her neighbour.
    “No.”
    “You ought to have seen the tie he had on. Gee, but he was a mark.”
    “S-s-t,” said the other girl, bending over her work. The first, silenced, instantly assumed a solemn face. The