“Christian.”
“What religion do you profess?” in a higher pitched voice.
I did not clearly comprehend. “Do you mean ‘Am I a Catholic or a Protestant?’ I am a Christian.”
But it was of no avail. She wrote down, “None.”
I protested. “That is not accurate. I insist that I am a Christian, or at least I try to be one.”
“You must learn to be polite,” she retorted almost fiercely, and I returned to the sewing room.
For the hundredth time we asked to be given our toothbrushes, combs, handkerchiefs and our own soap. The third day of imprisonment without any of these essentials found us depressed and worried over our unsanitary condition. We plead also for toilet paper. It was senseless to deny these necessities. It is enough to imprison people. Why seek to degrade them utterly?
The third afternoon we were mysteriously summoned into the presence of Superintendent Whittaker. He seemed warm and cordial. We were ordered drawn up in a semi-circle.
“Ladies, there is a rumor that you may be pardoned,” he began.