Chicago (Ill.) -- Fiction; Didactic fiction; Mistresses -- Fiction; New York (N.Y.) -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
Once across the river and into the wholesale district, she glanced about
her for some likely door at which to apply. As she contemplated the wide
windows and imposing signs, she became conscious of being gazed upon and
understood for what she was--a wage-seeker. She had never done this
thing before, and lacked courage. To avoid a certain indefinable shame
she felt at being caught spying about for a position, she quickened her
steps and assumed an air of indifference supposedly common to one upon
an errand. In this way she passed many manufacturing and wholesale
houses without once glancing in. At last, after several blocks of
walking, she felt that this would not do, and began to look about again,
though without relaxing her pace. A little way on she saw a great door
which, for some reason, attracted her attention. It was ornamented by a
small brass sign, and seemed to be the entrance to a vast hive of six or
seven floors. "Perhaps," she thought, "they may want some one," and
crossed over to enter. When she came within a score of feet of the
desired goal, she saw through the window a young man in a grey checked
suit. That he had anything to do with the concern, she could not tell,
but because he happened to be looking in her direction her weakening
heart misgave her and she hurried by, too overcome with shame to enter.
Over the way stood a great six-story structure, labelled Storm and King,
which she viewed with rising hope. It was a wholesale dry goods concern
and employed women. She could see them moving about now and then upon
the upper floors. This place she decided to enter, no matter what. She
crossed over and walked directly toward the entrance. As she did so, two
men came out and paused in the door. A telegraph messenger in blue
dashed past her and up the few steps that led to the entrance and
disappeared. Several pedestrians out of the hurrying throng which filled
the sidewalks passed about her as she paused, hesitating. She looked
helplessly around, and then, seeing herself observed, retreated. It was
too difficult a task. She could not go past them.
So severe a defeat told sadly upon her nerves. Her feet carried her
mechanically forward, every foot of her progress being a satisfactory
portion of a flight which she gladly made. Block after block passed by.
Upon street-lamps at the various corners she read names such as Madison,
Monroe, La Salle, Clark, Dearborn, State, and still she went, her feet
beginning to tire upon the broad stone flagging. She was pleased in part
that the streets were bright and clean. The morning sun, shining down
with steadily increasing warmth, made the shady side of the streets
pleasantly cool. She looked at the blue sky overhead with more
realisation of its charm than had ever come to her before.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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