When buying my ticket I learned that the rates quoted by the prospectus had been out of date more than five years. On arriving at Belgrave House, the waitresses’ dormitory, I mentioned to the housekeeper as she registered me that I wished to buy one of the black and one of the white uniforms, also mentioned in the prospectus as being supplied at wholesale prices. She showed considerable embarrassment. Waitresses, she explained, had not liked the cut of the skirts, so there was not a full line on hand. Those skirts! They were of that period when the hour-glass was the model of feminine grace and elegance. The largest waist measure in stock was nineteen inches. That skirt was forty-four inches long and measured more than six yards around the bottom. Having to go on duty within three hours, I was forced to get something in the way of a uniform. Fortunately, on a pinch, I can cut and sew. Buying a black and a white skirt—dimensions, nineteen by forty-four inches by six yards—I set to work. After shortening the white skirt and making it wider at the top and narrower at the bottom I rushed to the boardwalk, where I bought a white and a black shirtwaist. Of course, they cost me three times as much as they were selling for in New York. The waitresses’ dinner was in progress when I presented myself in my uniform. The assistant housekeeper of Belgrave being at the desk, she conducted me into the large, poorly lighted dining-room and found me a vacant chair at a table for eight. During the meal, when the waitress next me cordially offered her help, I asked if she was stationed in the main dining-room or the side-hall. After saying she was in the main dining-room she shut up like a clam. Every effort to learn where and what the side-hall was met an unmistakable rebuff. Puzzled, and a little bit miffed, I at length said to the waitress who had offered me her assistance: “You’ll be helping me a lot if you will tell me what to do to get a good station.” Then, including all at table, for I knew they were all listening, I added: “You see, this is my first time in a hotel. I’ve always worked in a private family. Please tell me what to do.” “Follow along with us when we report for dinner, take your seat in the back of the dining-room, and wait till the head waiter comes,” she told me. “When the head waiter sees you sitting there he’ll know you’re new and give you a station,” another waitress added. “You just follow along with us.” Following these directions took me through a covered passageway connecting Belgrave with the Sea Foam. From this we entered a large kitchen which, on my first entrance, seemed thronged with men—black and white. From the kitchen we went down a long flight of unusually steep stairs to a basement passageway in which I got my first glimpse of a time-clock. After punching her time the waitress who had spoken to me at dinner signalled for me to follow her.