"Did I? Well, I should say," returned the little girl. "They had a frame
around it."

Carrie laughed.

"They've never published my picture."

"But they will," said Lola. "You'll see. You do better than most that
get theirs in now."

Carrie felt deeply grateful for this. She almost loved Lola for the
sympathy and praise she extended. It was so helpful to her--so almost
necessary.

Fulfilling her part capably brought another notice in the papers that
she was doing her work acceptably. This pleased her immensely. She began
to think the world was taking note of her.

The first week she got her thirty-five dollars, it seemed an enormous
sum. Paying only three dollars for room rent seemed ridiculous. After
giving Lola her twenty-five, she still had seven dollars left. With four
left over from previous earnings, she had eleven. Five of this went to
pay the regular installment on the clothes she had to buy. The next week
she was even in greater feather. Now, only three dollars need be paid
for room rent and five on her clothes. The rest she had for food and her
own whims.

"You'd better save a little for summer," cautioned Lola. "We'll probably
close in May."

"I intend to," said Carrie.

The regular entrance of thirty-five dollars a week to one who has
endured scant allowances for several years is a demoralising thing.
Carrie found her purse bursting with good green bills of comfortable
denominations. Having no one dependent upon her, she began to buy pretty
clothes and pleasing trinkets, to eat well, and to ornament her room.
Friends were not long in gathering about. She met a few young men who
belonged to Lola's staff. The members of the opera company made her
acquaintance without the formality of introduction. One of these
discovered a fancy for her. On several occasions he strolled home with
her.

"Let's stop in and have a rarebit," he suggested one midnight.

"Very well," said Carrie.

In the rosy restaurant, filled with the merry lovers of late hours,
she found herself criticising this man. He was too stilted, too
self-opinionated. He did not talk of anything that lifted her above the
common run of clothes and material success. When it was all over, he
smiled most graciously.

"Got to go straight home, have you?" he said.

"Yes," she answered, with an air of quiet understanding.

"She's not so inexperienced as she looks," he thought, and thereafter
his respect and ardour were increased.

She could