The officer first asked me my name. I confess that I gave it to him while wondering what his next words would be. He merely asked my address in Dublin, so I gave him the address of friends with whom I was staying. Would that disturb him, I wondered? "When did you come to Dublin?" he next asked. "Holy Thursday," I replied. "Then you've been here during the rising?" "Yes," I said. In a tone which showed how deeply he had been moved by Easter Week, he added: "It's been a terrible business!" To that I could feelingly agree. At length he gave me a permit, not one to leave Dublin, but merely to see the military authorities. Here was another ordeal. I went up to a soldier in the corridor and asked him where I should go. "What's your name?" he asked. "It's on this permit," I replied, holding it out to him. But, as he seemed afraid to touch it, I told him my name, and he took me to the office where the military authorities were located. I shivered a little at the chance of his going in with me and telling them I was a rebel. But he left me at the door. To my relief, the questions put to me here were the same as before. I had only to tell the truth, and the polite officer handed over my pass. As soon as I was outside the castle I replaced my republican colors and went home to friends who really did not expect to see me again. [Illustration: THE PASS OUT OF IRELAND FOR WHICH THE AUTHOR, AT GREAT RISK, APPLIED IN PERSON AT DUBLIN CASTLE Please pass Margaret Skinnider Between Dublin & England Via North Wall [or Kingstown][struck through] [Illustration: Stamp: ASSISTANT PROVOST MARSHAL DUBLIN 2/6/16] [name unclear] Major Asst. provost Marshal] I did not go directly to Glasgow, however, for I heard that the police were watching all incoming trains. Instead, I went to a little seaside resort to recuperate. My sister, who had come over to Dublin to be with me after I left the hospital, went along, too. She was terrified when we got off the boat because police were watching the gangway. But nothing happened. My mother came to see me, and took it all splendidly, though from the first I had given her an anxious time of it. She is a good rebel. I was proud that I could tell my mother I had been mentioned three times for bravery in despatches sent to headquarters. The third time was when I was wounded. Commandant Mallin had said then: "You'll surely be given the republican cross." But the republic did not last long enough for that. I _was_ given an Irish cross. This was the joint gift of the Cumman-na-mBan girls and the Irish Volunteers of Glasgow. They arranged, as a surprise for me, a meeting with addresses and songs. Since I had no hint of it, I was out of Scotland on the day set. They had to repeat part of the ceremony when I came back. It all was meant to be very solemn, but somehow I felt strange and absurd to be getting a cross for bravery that had led to death or prison so many others.