Nineteenth Century Woman Tailor

After cleaning the fireplace, a thin layer of sweat formed on Eloise's forehead. She quickly left the room and spoke kindly to the two male colleagues.

"I don’t usually come to the seventh floor, and since it’s late today, I hope you two can be generous and not mention this to Mrs. Morrison."

She had nothing of value or money to offer them, so she put on a warm smile and spoke humbly, hoping her polite words would suffice. After all, people are less likely to strike someone who smiles.

The two attendants, seeing Eloise's delicate features, blushed and cleared their throats, saying there wouldn’t be a next time.

"As long as the guest inside doesn’t say anything, we won’t speak of it."

But the guest inside likely had no time to care about such trivial matters.

With this assurance, Eloise left with relief. She took the staff passageway to the first and second floors, only managing to sweep half a bucket of ash before returning to Warehouse 11.

The ash from the fireplaces was usually collected in large iron containers, packed into sacks every day, and hauled out of the island by garbage collectors in the early morning. It was then sent to farms that used carbon ash as insecticide or fertilizer.

Eloise checked the time—it wasn’t even ten o’clock yet.

She continued cleaning buckets in the warehouse when she ran into Amy, who was carrying ash from the fourth floor.

"Are you done with your work?"

"Yes, do you need help?" Eloise asked.

After all, she owed Amy for helping her secure such an easy task today.

"Not yet. A section of the heating pipe on the fourth floor is clogged and under repair. The guests in that area used their fireplaces last night," Amy said with a frustrated look, glancing tentatively at Eloise.

"Will you help me? If you do, I’ll take you to the staff cafeteria for lunch." Amy calculated in her mind. She didn’t like owing favors, and since her brother was the assistant chef in the kitchen, getting an extra portion of the premium staff meal was as simple as asking.

Eloise nodded eagerly. She had heard from her aunt that the staff meals were delicious and plentiful. With over two hundred employees at the hotel, rest times varied, so meals were served all day. Many staff members earned less than a dollar a day, but everyone agreed the meals were worth it.

With that, Eloise stopped cleaning the buckets and followed Amy to the fourth floor. They worked until a quarter to twelve before returning to the warehouse.

Both Amy and Eloise were exhausted. As they passed by Laura, who looked pale, they took the staff elevator down to the basement level. The kitchen doorman recognized Amy and exchanged a few pleasantries before opening the heavy glass door for them.

Eloise’s eyes were met with a bustling scene. Chefs in tall, white hats and crisp uniforms, aprons tied around their waists, stood in front of stoves or ovens, frying and simmering in pans or pots, completely absorbed in their work.

A few waiters in tailcoats hurried back and forth, carrying plates and taking the service elevator upstairs. Before Eloise could take another look, Amy pulled her into a small door to the left.

This was the busiest time for the hotel restaurant, and the staff area was also crowded with people lining up for meals. Eloise even spotted Louise in the crowd, but there were too many people for Louise to notice her.

The staff dining area was divided into tiers. The outer area served simple meals, but Amy led Eloise further in, passing through two small doors into the chefs’ private dining room.

Amy then took Eloise to her own private dormitory next door.

The room originally belonged to her brother, but since he had married and moved to his own apartment in the city, the mid-level staff dormitory had become hers.

It was a narrow room, no more than two or three meters wide, with a single bed, a desk, and chairs. Outside the window was a drainage ditch, casting a gloomy light into the room.

Although Eloise thought the feng shui was poor, she had to admit it looked much more spacious than where she lived.

Soon, Amy brought in two plates, and Eloise took one. They sat down at the table.

Amy said, "The chefs’ lunch is made from the leftovers of the guests’ meals yesterday. There’s lamb, goose breast—eat as much as you want. If it’s not enough, I’ll get more."

One plate held golden, fluffy slices of bread fried in butter.

The other was a mix of various meat scraps—goose, lamb, and ox tongue, all stir-fried and drenched in a rich sauce. There were also strips of bacon and sausage, steaming in the chilly dorm room.

The aroma of the sauce and meat was like a catalyst, making Eloise’s mouth water.

She swallowed hard, her mind overwhelmed. In the days since she had arrived here, she hadn’t seen this much meat in one meal. How much would it cost to eat like this?

Eloise struggled to speak, asking Amy, "Do you... usually eat this well?"

Amy shook her head. She handed Eloise the bread and cutlery. Amy was a person who valued relationships, and since Eloise had dared to stand up to Laura for her today, she considered her a friend.

"Not usually. It’s only because Manager Pengoli was worried the gentleman in the Opal Suite might dine at the hotel, so he ordered the kitchen to prepare all kinds of expensive meats. That’s why there’s so much left over."

Hearing this, Eloise felt a spark of curiosity about the guest in the Opal Suite, but she quickly suppressed it and focused on enjoying the meal.

It wasn’t the most delicious food, but it was the first time in days she had eaten meat, so Eloise savored every bite. By the end, her stomach felt uncomfortably full.

If she weren’t afraid of getting Amy in trouble, she would have sneaked a plate home to share with her family.

"I can’t let you feed me all this meat for free," Eloise said, telling Amy about her recent self-taught sewing skills. She mentioned that the gloves she wore that morning were her own work and asked if Amy had any old clothes she could alter into gloves, hats, vests, or even blouses.

Amy was surprised. She had noticed the gloves that morning but assumed they were store-bought.

She asked, puzzled, "If you have this skill, why are you still cleaning fireplaces at the hotel?"

Eloise smiled bitterly. "I’m too poor to leave the job. The salary here is essential for now."

Hearing this, Amy put down her cutlery, bent down, and pulled out a wooden box from under her bed. She took out a thin, printed cotton overdress and pointed to a large burnt hole in it. "Look, this overdress got ruined by the stove fire. Such a shame—it’s such good cotton fabric."

At this time, middle-class and upper-class women were wearing the latest bustle dresses.

But for working-class women, fashion had barely progressed. Winter attire was still long dresses, not much different from what maids wore in the 17th century.

They didn’t have elaborate skirt decorations, only simple one-piece dresses. To save fabric, the skirts were usually narrow, and if they wanted any embellishment, they could only wear half or full-length overdresses.

Summer clothing, however, offered a bit more variety for the poor.

Amy still regretted the loss of this dress. She explained its origin: "My sister gave it to me. She used to work as a maid for a theater owner’s family. The lady of the house was very image-conscious and often gave her maids her old clothes. This overdress was made from one of her old dresses. My sister had it altered by a tailor in the slums and paid half a dollar for it."

"If you can turn it into a short-sleeved summer blouse for me, I’ll pay you," Amy said, pulling three dimes from her purse. "Is this enough? If not, I’ll make up the difference when it’s done."

"That’s plenty," Eloise said, accepting the money and the dress. It was her first order, and she wanted to give it a try.

Turning an overdress into a blouse was relatively simple. A few seams, some drawstring holes, and it could be made into a low-cut, drawstring style. Paired with a thin corset and a high-waisted skirt, it would make a perfect summer outfit.

After twelve, Eloise left the Leeds Hotel with the damaged overdress.

She planned to go home first to drop off the dress, then use the money Louise and Amy had given her to visit the small market in the slums near the Bolunlen Mill.

Amy gave thirty cents, Louise gave thirty-five cents, and Eloise took ten cents herself. Seeing that Thomas and Bella had eaten and were still at home, working by the stove as usual, she quickly tucked the money into the innermost pocket of her coat and left the house.

The snowstorm continued, and there were few pedestrians on the road. Only carriages passed by, leaving deep hoofprints and wheel tracks on the snow-covered stone pavement.

Bollanlen Mill wasn’t too far away. Though it was called a mill, that was a name from two hundred years ago. Since the Revolutionary War, it had ceased to be a mill and had become a narrow pedestrian alley nestled between two residential buildings.

Eloise, her hair dusted with snow, entered through the iron gate. She could clearly see that the shops on either side were simple shacks, leaning against the buildings. They were built with wooden or tiled planks and were narrow, as they couldn’t block the windows of the buildings behind them. Many were only a meter or two wide, with the length stretched as far as possible.

The walkway, designed to prevent thieves from slipping in, was barely wide enough for one person. When two people walked side by side, it was difficult to turn around.

The greasy, grimy wooden door frames, the dusty and icy glass windows, the snow-covered slanted roofs, the stoves billowing black smoke, the old women holding lazy cats for warmth, and the idle young men loitering around—all were common sights.

In these cramped spaces, one or two meters wide and three or four meters deep, the shopkeepers, whether locals or immigrants, made use of every inch. They hung well-preserved secondhand clothes, shoes, belts, and more on the walls and shelves.

The less presentable secondhand items were piled on stalls at the entrance, allowing customers to rummage through and find what they needed.

Secondhand clothing, furniture, hats, shoes, books, and even carts—everything was here, crowded and cheap, giving the illusion that one could furnish an entire home for just two dollars.

The people who came here to shop were those with little money to spare. The shopkeepers all had a lazy yet shrewd air about them. Eloise, having changed out of her hotel uniform, looked like someone even poorer than the usual crowd.