They were a fair type of nearly the lowest order of shop-girls-careless, slouchy, and more or less paid of from confinement.

They were not timid, however; were rich in curiosity, and strong in daring and slang.
Carrie looked about her, very much disturbed and quite sure that she did not want to work here.

Aside from making her uncomfortable by sidelong glances, no one paid her the least attention.

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.