lem of finding clothes and amusement
on fifty cents a week. She brooded over this until she was in a state of
mental rebellion.

"I'm going up the street for a walk," she said after supper.

"Not alone, are you?" asked Hanson.

"Yes," returned Carrie.

"I wouldn't," said Minnie.

"I want to see SOMETHING," said Carrie, and by the tone she put into
the last word they realised for the first time she was not pleased with
them.

"What's the matter with her?" asked Hanson, when she went into the front
room to get her hat.

"I don't know," said Minnie.

"Well, she ought to know better than to want to go out alone."

Carrie did not go very far, after all. She returned and stood in the
door. The next day they went out to Garfield Park, but it did not please
her. She did not look well enough. In the shop next day she heard the
highly coloured reports which girls give of their trivial amusements.
They had been happy. On several days it rained and she used up car fare.
One night she got thoroughly soaked, going to catch the car at Van Buren
Street. All that evening she sat alone in the front room looking out
upon the street, where the lights were reflected on the wet pavements,
thinking. She had imagination enough to be moody.

On Saturday she paid another four dollars and pocketed her fifty cents
in despair. The speaking acquaintanceship which she formed with some of
the girls at the shop discovered to her the fact that they had more of
their earnings to use for themselves than she did. They had young men
of the kind whom she, since her experience with Drouet, felt above, who
took them about. She came to thoroughly dislike the light-headed young
fellows of the shop. Not one of them had a show of refinement. She saw
only their workday side.

There came a day when the first premonitory blast of winter swept over
the city. It scudded the fleecy clouds in the heavens, trailed long,
thin streamers of smoke from the tall stacks, and raced about the
streets and corners in sharp and sudden puffs. Carrie now felt the
problem of winter clothes. What was she to do? She had no winter jacket,
no hat, no shoes. It was difficult to speak to Minnie about this, but at
last she summoned the courage.

"I don't know what I'm going to do about clothes," she said one evening
when they were together. "I need a hat."

Minnie looked serious.

"Why don't you keep part of your money and buy yourself one?" she
suggested, worried over the