I went into the general ward for the greater part of the day. I made my bed and dusted my cell, but was not allowed to wash the floor or clean the tin utensils because of my “heart disease.” The quieter nights enabled me to eat more food, and I think I gained in weight and became generally restored to quite normal health. It was obvious that no ordinary prisoner nor Suffragette prisoner would, in my state of health, have been put in hospital, and that I was being kept there either to give me a soft time or for some other impenetrable reason. I told the Senior Medical Officer that unless I were allowed to the “other side” I should feel obliged to protest by means which he would probably regret when it was too late. He looked very much alarmed, but my threat produced no practical result. I then asked leave to petition the Home Secretary, a right allowed to all prisoners. Blue official paper, ink and a pen were brought to my cell, only one sheet of paper being allowed, but it was a large one. I forget the wording of my letter. I stated that I had been rather severely knocked about by the police while on a peaceable Deputation to the House of Commons to petition that, when the accepted conditions for which voting rights are granted have been fulfilled the vote should follow, in the case of women as of men, a claim which he, the Home Secretary himself, and a majority of the Cabinet and House of Commons had recognised as just. That I therefore was grateful for the privilege of being placed in hospital during the first few days, where the careful and kindly treatment of the officials and excellent food had quickly restored me to my normal health. I told how I had asked permission to join my companions in the cells, but hitherto had asked in vain. I explained that the cell routine of floor scrubbing, tin polishing, etc., would be no exceptional exertion in my case, since I was an amateur scrubber, having patronised that craft in much the same spirit in which other unemployed women took up water-colour drawing or hand-embroidery. I found that my fellow prisoners were kept in the cells when much more seriously ill than I was, and I was driven reluctantly to the conclusion that the preferential treatment meted out to me was for no better reason than that I had influential friends whose criticism, if my health should suffer in prison, was feared by the authorities. I resented such favouritism on the part of officials, both as a Liberal in politics, as a believer in the teachings of Christ, and as a woman, and if the special treatment of my case continued I should feel bound on my release to make it known from every platform of our campaign throughout the country. I found there was a tradition amongst prisoners that petitions to the Home Secretary were always in vain. As I put forward a moderate and reasonable request, consistent with the prison regulations, I hoped it would serve as an instance for proving this tradition to be false. This letter, perhaps, gave a slightly coloured version of the hospital _régime_, but I knew that, in spite of their aims to the contrary, officials are human, and that if I could express some sort of praise that was fairly justified, my letter would be more likely to reach the higher dignitaries and be attended to by them. Perhaps, I thought, the combination of a very reasonable request with an allowance of judicious flattery might even result in the request being granted.