“We have a prison messenger, who will fetch your luggage if you pay him for doing so.”
“I will pay him,” cried Miss Stanbridge.
“You forget, perhaps,” observed one of the women, “that you had only seven-and-sixpence in your purse.”
“I do not forget. I have good friends who will assist me in the hour of my trial and trouble. I am not without means.”
Upon this both the women were much more conciliatory in their manner.
“We will do our best to make you as comfortable as possible,” they both ejaculated. “We always do that to those who have the misfortune to be charged with any offence.”
“You are very kind, I’m sure,” cried Miss Stanbridge, with something like irony in her tone.
“You had better let me keep the seven and sixpence,” said one of the female warders, “and pay it to the prison servant to clean your cell, otherwise you will have to do it yourself every morning.”
“Clean it myself! Is that in the rules?”
“Yes, it is a rule always exacted.”