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You'd get seven days for going into the spike with eightpence!
' So I buried my money in a hole under the hedge, marking the spot with a lump of flint.
We stuffed our ankles with contraband until anyone seeing us might have imagined an outbreak of elephantiasis.
But is an unwritten law that even the sternest Tramp Majors do not search below the knee, and in the end only one man was caught.
When we had bathed our own clothes were taken away from us, and we were dressed in the workhouse shirts, grey cotton things like nightshirts, reaching to the middle of the thigh.
Then we were sent into the dining-room, where supper was set out on the deal tables.
Some of the men refused the bath, and washed only their 'toe-rags', the horrid, greasy little clouts which tramps bind round their feet.
The woman was sent off to the workhouse, and we others into the spike.
It was a gloomy, chilly, limewashed place, consisting only of a bathroom and dining-room and about a hundred narrow stone cells.
It was the invariable spike meal, always the same, whether breakfast, dinner or supper–half a pound of bread, a bit of margarine, and a pint of so-called tea.
It took us five minutes to gulp down the cheap, noxious food.Then the Tramp Major served us with three cotton blankets each, and drove us off to our cells for the night.