"That would be good, wouldn't it?" she said, sympathetically.
"If I can only get over this summer," he added, "I think I'll be all right. I'm hearing from some of my friends again."
Carrie swallowed this story in all its pristine beauty. She sincerely wished he could get through the summer. He looked so hopeless.
"How much money have you left?"
"Only fifty dollars."
"Oh, mercy," she exclaimed, "what will we do? It's only twenty days until the rent will be due again."
Hurstwood rested his head on his hands and looked blankly at the floor.
"Maybe you could get something in the stage line?" he blandly suggested.
"Maybe I could," said Carrie, glad that some one approved of the idea.
"I'll lay my hand to whatever I can get," he said, now that he saw her brighten up. "I can get something."
She cleaned up the things one morning after he had gone, dressed as neatly as her wardrobe permitted, and set out for Broadway. She did not know that thoroughfare very well. To her it was a wonderful conglomeration of everything great and mighty. The theatres were there—these agencies must be somewhere about.
She decided to stop in at the Madison Square Theatre and ask how to find the theatrical agents. This seemed the sensible way. Accordingly, when she reached that theatre she applied to the clerk at the box office.
"Eh?" he said, looking out. "Dramatic agents? I don't know. You'll find them in the 'Clipper,' though. They all advertise in that."
"Is that a paper?" said Carrie.
