Minnie, under the warming influence of Carrie’s good spirits and her husband’s somewhat conversational mood, began to tell Carrie of some of the well-known things to see—things the enjoyment of which cost nothing. “You’d like to see Michigan Avenue. There are such fine houses. It is such a fine street.” “Where is H. R. Jacob’s?” interrupted Carrie, mentioning one of the theatres devoted to melodrama which went by that name at the time. “Oh, it’s not very far from here,” answered Minnie. “It’s in Halstead Street, right up here.” “How I’d like to go there. I crossed Halstead Street to-day, didn’t I?” At this there was a slight halt in the natural reply. Thoughts are a strangely permeating factor. At her suggestion of going to the theatre, the unspoken shade of disapproval to the doing of those things which involved the expenditure of money—shades of feeling which arose in the mind of Hanson and then in Minnie—slightly affected the atmosphere of the table. Minnie answered “yes,” but Carrie could feel that going to the theatre was poorly advocated here. The subject was put off for a little while until Hanson, through with his meal, took his paper and went into the front room. When they were alone, the two sisters began a somewhat freer conversation, Carrie interrupting it to hum a little, as they worked at the dishes. “I should like to walk up and see Halstead Street, if it isn’t too far,” said Carrie, after a time. “Why don’t we go to the theatre to-night?” “Oh, I don’t think Sven would want to go to-night,” returned Minnie. “He has to get up so early.” “He wouldn’t mind—he’d enjoy it,” said Carrie. “No, he doesn’t go very often,” returned Minnie. “Well, I’d like to go,” rejoined Carrie. “Let’s you and me go.” Minnie pondered a while, not upon whether she could or would go—for that point was already negatively settled with her—but upon some means of diverting the thoughts of her sister to some other topic. “We’ll go some other time,” she said at last, finding no ready means of escape. Carrie sensed the root of the opposition at once. “I have some money,” she said. “You go with me.” Minnie shook her head. “He could go along,” said Carrie. “No,” returned Minnie softly, and rattling the dishes to drown the conversation. “He wouldn’t.” It had been several years since Minnie had seen Carrie, and in that time the latter’s character had developed a few shades. Naturally timid in all things that related to her own advancement, and especially so when without power or resource, her craving for pleasure was so strong that it was the one stay of her nature. She would speak for that when silent on all else. “Ask him,” she pleaded softly.