"She's the artfulest huzzy that ever lived," said Ellen. "She'll tell the women when they leave the shop not to speak a word till they get out of it, nor in the yard; but when they get into the prison they may talk as much as they are a mind to. Don't ye see, that's to make you trouble. You'll have to scold 'em, and get 'em locked up; and then, they'll hate you, and plague you all they can."
"Don't be anxious, Ellen? After I have been here awhile the women will understand me, and they won't be any more willing to plague me than you are."
"That's true! but it will take longer because you don't see 'em so much as you do us. And don't ye see, she'll tell 'em anything. She always be's stirring up a fuss somewhere. The women all hates her."
"Never mind saying anything more, Ellen. I think I can manage her."
"Don't let her know I've said anything! She'd surely pick up something to get me locked up for."
"'Twas she that got me ten days in solitary, and the gag," said O'Brien. "I'd like to make her bones ache as mine ached then! If ever I catch her out-outside I'll"—
"Anne O'Brien, stop!"
"Well, ma'am, if she had treated you as she has me you would hate her. I'd strike her down in a minute if I could get the chance. And she will get struck down in the shop sometime and killed. She never goes outside, and she dares not, so many of the women hate her, and are on the watch for her."
That was the effect produced by solitary confinement, without mitigation, as I heard it talked universally among the prisoners. Does it conduce to reformation?
At the time this occurred, I thought the prisoners had exaggerated in their statements about Mrs. Hardhack; but in a few days they were confirmed by her own conduct.