many years at that – but the firm of Barlett, Caryoe & Company was large and prosperous house, and Drouet stood well.
“Why, hello, Charlie, old man,” said Hurstwood, as Drouet came in that evening about eight o’clock. “How goes it?” The room was crowded.
Drouet shook hands, beaming good nature, and they strolled towards the bar.
“Oh, all right.”
“I haven’t seen you in six weeks. When did you get in?”
“Friday,” said Drouet. “Had a fine trip.”
“Glad of it,” said Hurstwood, his black eyes lit with a warmth which half displaced the cold make-believe that usually dwelt in them. “What are you going to take?” he added, as the barkeeper, in snowy jacket and tie, leaned toward them from behind the bar.
“Old Pepper,” said Drouet.
“A little of the same for me,” put in Hurstwood.
“How long are you in town this time?” inquired Hurstwood.
“Only until Wednesday. I’m going up to St. Paul.”
“George Evans was in here Saturday and said he saw you in Milwaukee last week.”
“Yes, I saw George,” returned Drouet. “Great old boy, isn’t he? We had quite a time there together.”
The barkeeper was setting out the glasses and bottle before them, and they now poured out the draught as they talked, Drouet filling his to within a third of full, as was considered proper, and Hurstwood taking the barest suggestion of whiskey and modifying it with seltzer.
“What’s become of Caryoe?” remarked Hurstwood “I haven’t seen him around here in two weeks.”
“Laid up, they say,” exclaimed Drouet. “Say, he’s a gouty old boy!”[22]
“I guess he can’t hurt the business very much, though, with the other members all there.”
“No, he can’t injure that any, I guess.”
Hurstwood was standing, his coat open, his thumbs in his pockets, the light on his jewels and rings relieving them with agreeable distinctness. He was the picture of fastidious comfort.
“See that a fellow coming in there?” said Hurstwood, glancing at a gentlemen just entering, arrayed in a high hat and Prince Albert coat[23], his fat cheeks puffed and red as with good eating.
“No, where?” said Drouet.
“There,” said Hurstwood, indicating the direction by a cast of his eye, “the man with the silk hat.”
“Oh, yes,” said Drouet, now affecting not to see. “Who is he?”
“That’s Jules Wallace, the spiritualist.”
Drouet followed him with his eyes, much interested.
“Doesn’t look much like a man who sees spirits, does he?” said Drouet.
“Oh, I don’t know,” returned Hurstwood. “He’s got the money, all right,” and a little twinkle passed over his eyes.
“I don’t go much on those things, do you?” asked Drouet.
“Well, you never can tell,” said Hurstwood. “There may be something to it. I wouldn’t bother about it myself, though. By the way,” he added, “are you going anywhere to-night?”
“The Hole in the Ground,” said Drouet, mentioning the popular farce of the time.
“Well, you’d better be going. It’s half after eight already,” and he drew out his watch.
The crowd was already thinning out considerably, some bound for the theatres, some to their clubs, and some to that most fascinating of all the pleasures – for the type of man there represented, at least – the ladies.
“Yes, I will,” said Drouet.
“Come around after the show. I have something I want to show you,” said Hurstwood.
“Sure,” said Drouet, elated.
“You haven’t anything on hand for the night, have you?” added Hurstwood.
“Not a thing.”
“Well, come round, then.”
“I struck a little peach coming in on the train Friday,” remarked Drouet, by way of parting. “By George, that’s so, I must go and call on her before I go away.”
“Oh, never mind her,” Hurstwood remarked.
“Say, she was a little dandy, I tell you,” went on Drouet confidentially, and trying to impress his friend.
“Twelve o’clock,” said Hurstwood.
“That’s right,” said Drouet, going out.
Thus was Carrie’s name bandied about in the most frivolous and gay of places, and that also when the little toiler was bemoaning her narrow lot[24], which was almost inseparable from the early stages of this, her unfolding fate.
Chapter VI
The Machine and the Maiden: A Knight of To-Day
At the flat that evening Carrie felt a new phase of its atmosphere. The fact that it was unchanged, while her feelings were different, increased her knowledge of its character. Minnie, after the good spirits Carrie manifested at first, expected a fair report. Hanson supposed that Carrie would be satisfied.
“Well,” he said, as he came in from the hall in his working clothes, and looked at Carrie through the dining-room door, “how did you make out?”
“Oh,” said Carrie, “it’s pretty hard. I don’t like it.”
There was an air about her which showed plainer than any words that she was both weary and disappointed.
“What sort of work is it?” he asked, lingering a moment as he turned upon his heel to go into the bathroom.
“Running a machine,” answered Carrie.
To Carrie, the one relief of the whole day would have been a jolly home, a sympathetic reception, a bright supper table, and some one to say: “Oh, well stand it a little while. You will get something better,” put now this was ashes. She began to see that they looked upon her complaint as unwarranted, and that she was supposed to work on and say nothing. She knew that she was to pay four dollar for her board and room, and now she felt that it would be an exceedingly gloomy round living with these people.
She had forgotten, in considering and explaining the result of her day, that Drouet might come. Now, when she saw how unreceptive these two people were, she hoped he would not. She did not know exactly what she would do or how she would explain to Drouet, if he came. After supper she changed her clothes. When she was trimly dressed she was rather a sweet little being,
