the room. “What are people looking away from? What are you talking about?”
“The mill workers,” Mandy answered. Her voice caught and she cleared her throat.
“Mill workers? Who? What about them? Why would I care?”
Ellie and her mother looked to Mandy, who tightened her jaw.
“What do you think about working here, Amelia?” Ellie’s mother asked.
That seemed to catch her attention and also catch the normally verbose Amelia off guard. “Oh. Well... Oh my…” She cleared her throat and composed herself before finally giving what seemed to be a truthful, if not slightly exaggerated, answer. “Oh, I love it here Mrs. Wilson.”
“Do you now? You love working?” Ellie saw the corners of her mother’s mouth twitch. And apparently, so did Amelia who now squirmed in her seat.
“Perhaps I… Well, I didn’t actually say I loved working , not exactly…”
“Really? I never would have guessed that…” Mandy murmured.
“Who loves working?” Amelia threw her hands above her head.
“I do,” Mandy countered.
“Well, aren’t you just a big ole barrel of fun?”
Ellie and her mother smiled and Amelia crossed her arms.
“I wasn’t lying,” she said glaring at Mandy who was now refusing to acknowledge her stares. “Maybe I don’t love working, but I do love working here quite a lot.”
“And why is that?” Ellie’s mother asked.
Still not entirely sure what was happening, Amelia’s eyes drifted to each of the other women as she spoke. “The lodgings are nice. I never worked anywhere with lodgings before. And if there had been any I’m nearly certain they would have been uninhabitable… Oh, and the work load is appropriately doled out. Can’t say the same for most other places I’ve worked at. None, actually, come to think of it… Oh, and you Mrs. Wilson. I promise I’m not just saying it because you’re the one doing the asking, but you’ve treated me kinder than my own mother ever did. And your husband and Ellie here as well… Even you, Mandy, are tolerable on most days,” Amelia added sardonically. “Though, I’m not sure what you’re getting at with all this…”
“What if tomorrow my mother told you that you had to start working twelve hours or more at a time?”
“She wouldn’t. You wouldn’t! ”
“No! Of course not. But what if I did?”
“Ugh,” Amelia rolled her eyes. “Well I wouldn’t like it much. Not at all actually. But I suppose I’d have to do it. I wouldn’t have much of a choice, would I? If I needed to keep my job, that is.”
“And do you need your job?”
“I do. Of course, I do. What’s all this about?” Her eyes opened wide and she threw her hands against both sides of her face. “ Are you letting me go? ”
“No. Of course not.” Ellie’s mother shook her head and laughed softly.
“What if you were injured,” Ellie asked now, “and she said you had to keep working—”
“Injured? How am I going to injure myself here?” Amelia wiggled her fingers. “Pick myself with a pin? Does that even count as an injury? What sort of seamstress would I be if I let that get to me?”
“You’re not a seamstress yet, dearie,” Mandy chortled.
“Oh, now. She’s made great progress since I took her on six months ago,” Ellie’s mother said to Mandy. And then to Amelia, “You’re doing just fine, dear.”
Amelia sat up straighter and glared at Mandy who rolled her eyes and went back to her sewing. Amelia looked back to Ellie.
“You didn’t prick your finger. You cut it clear off.”
“ What? ” Amelia snickered. “How?”
“Cutting fabric.”
“But that’s not even—” Amelia looked to Mandy and pointed her thumb at Ellie. “And you thought I had an over active imagination!”
“I’m just…” Ellie dropped her shoulders. “This is purely hypothetical. Just follow me.”
Amelia raised her eyebrows, opened her eyes wide, and held up her hand, pointer finger folded over. “Alright then. I’ve cut off my