“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. “By whom?” asked one. “For what?” asked another. “We are innocent women. There is nothing to pardon us for.” “I have come to ask you what you would do if the President pardoned you.” “We would refuse to accept it,” came the ready response from several. “I shall leave you for a while to consider this. Mind! I have not yet received information of a pardon, but I have been asked to ascertain your attitude.” Our consultation was brief. We were of one mind. We were unanimous in wishing to reject a pardon for a crime which we had never committed. We said so with some spirit when Mr. Whittaker returned for our decision. “You have no choice. You are obliged to accept a pardon.” That settled it, and we waited. That the protest on the outside had been strong enough to precipitate action from the government was the subject of our conversation. Evidently it had not been strong enough to force action on the suffrage amendment, but it was forcing action, and that was important. Mr. Whittaker returned triumphant. “Ladies, you are pardoned by the President. You are free to go as soon as you have taken off your prison clothes and put on your own.” It was sad to leave the other prisoners behind. Especially pathetic were the girls who helped us with our clothes. They whispered such eager appeals in our ears, telling us of their drastic sentences for trifling offenses and of the cruel punishments. It was hard to resist digressing into some effort at prison reform. That way lay our instincts. Our reason told us that we must first change the status of women.