The girl lifted her head angrily and took a step forward. The block
guard, Sodaro, growled warningly: "Watch it, auntie!"
O'Leary shook his head. "Let her talk, Sodaro." It said in the _Civil
Service Guide to Prison Administration_: "Detainees will be permitted
to speak in their own behalf in disciplinary proceedings." And O'Leary
was a man who lived by the book.
She burst out: "I never got a chance! That old witch Mathias never told
me I was supposed to mop up. She banged on the door and said, 'Slush
up, sister!' And then, ten minutes later, she called the guards and
told them I refused to mop."
The block guard guffawed. "Wipe talk--that's what she was telling you
to do. Cap'n, you know what's funny about this? This Bradley is--"
"Shut up, Sodaro."
* * * * *
Captain O'leary put down his pencil and looked at the girl. She was
attractive and young--not beyond hope, surely. Maybe she had got off
to a wrong start, but the question was, would putting her in the
disciplinary block help straighten her out? He rubbed his ear and
looked past her at the line of prisoners on the rap detail, waiting for
him to judge their cases.
He said patiently: "Bradley, the rules are you have to mop out your
cell. If you didn't understand what Mathias was talking about, you
should have asked her. Now I'm warning you, the next time--"
"Hey, Cap'n, wait!" Sodaro was looking alarmed. "This isn't a first
offense. Look at the rap sheet. Yesterday she pulled the same thing in
the mess hall." He shook his head reprovingly at the prisoner. "The
block guard had to break up a fight between her and another wench,
and she claimed the same business--said she didn't understand when the
other one asked her to move along." He added virtuously: "The guard
warned her then that next time she'd get the Greensleeves for sure."
Inmate Bradley seemed to be on the verge of tears. She said tautly: "I
don't care. I don't care!"