e whirling wheels began to sing in a steadily modifying
key, until at last they died away in a low buzz. There was an audible
stillness, in which the common voice sounded strange.

Carrie got up and sought her lunch box. She was stiff, a little dizzy,
and very thirsty. On the way to the small space portioned off by wood,
where all the wraps and lunches were kept, she encountered the foreman,
who stared at her hard.

"Well," he said, "did you get along all right?"

"I think so," she replied, very respectfully.

"Um," he replied, for want of something better, and walked on.

Under better material conditions, this kind of work would not have been
so bad, but the new socialism which involves pleasant working conditions
for employees had not then taken hold upon manufacturing companies.

The place smelled of the oil of the machines and the new leather--a
combination which, added to the stale odours of the building, was not
pleasant even in cold weather. The floor, though regularly swept every
evening, presented a littered surface. Not the slightest provision
had been made for the comfort of the employees, the idea being that
something was gained by giving them as little and making the work
as hard and unremunerative as possible. What we know of foot-rests,
swivel-back chairs, dining-rooms for the girls, clean aprons and curling
irons supplied free, and a decent cloak room, were unthought of. The
washrooms were disagreeable, crude, if not foul places, and the whole
atmosphere was sordid.

Carrie looked about her, after she had drunk a tinful of water from a
bucket in one corner, for a place to sit and eat. The other girls had
ranged themselves about the windows or the work-benches of those of the
men who had gone out. She saw no place which did not hold a couple or a
group of girls, and being too timid to think of intruding herself, she
sought out her machine and, seated upon her stool, opened her lunch on
her lap. There she sat listening to the chatter and comment about
her. It was, for the most part, silly and graced by the current slang.
Several of the men in the room exchanged compliments with the girls at
long range.

"Say, Kitty," called one to a girl who was doing a waltz step in a few
feet of space near one of the windows, "are you going to the ball with
me?"

"Look out, Kitty," called another, "you'll jar your back hair."

"Go on, Rubber," was her only comment.

As Carrie listened to this and much more o