She waited until the whole department was aware of her presence.

Then some word was sent around, and a foreman, in an apron and shirt sleeves, the latter rolled up to his shoulders, approached.
"Do you want to see me ?" he asked.
"Do you need any help ?" said Carrie, already learning directness of address.
"Do you know how to stitch caps ?" he returned.
"No, sir," she replied.
"Have you ever had any experience at this kind of work ?" he inquired.
She answered that she had not.
"Well," said the foreman, scratching his ear meditatively, "we do need a stitcher.

We like experienced help, though.

We've hardly got time to break people in." He paused and looked away out of the window.

"We might, though, put you at finishing," he concluded reflectively.
"How much do you pay a week ?" ventured Carrie, emboldened by a certain softness in the man's manner and his simplicity of address.
"Three and a half," he answered.
"Oh," she was about to exclaim, but checked herself and allowed her thoughts to die without expression.
"We're not exactly in need of anybody," he went on vaguely, looking her over as one would a package.