"You won't need one," he said. "Just tell the sentry to look over my way."
We went back to the bridge again. This time when we were stopped Kathleen told the soldier to look over at his officer. The soldier looked over, the officer nodded to him, and we passed through.
While we were far out on the Rathmines Road I saw a poster of the Daily Sketch, an English illustrated daily. The poster had a photo of my father on it with the inscription, "James Connolly—The dead rebel leader."
"Thank God!" I cried. "That my mother is so far out of the city. She'll not see that."
We arrived at Dundrum late in the afternoon. We had stopped on our way at shops to buy some provisions for my mother in case she were in need of them. When I came to the cottage the half-door was open, and through it came a sound of weeping, and the frightened crying of my youngest sister. I pulled back the bolt of the half-door and stepped into the cottage. My mother was sitting on a chair weeping. I saw that somehow she had received a copy of the Daily Sketch bearing the false news of my father's death. But she did not know it was false and was mourning my father. When I entered she looked up in amaze, caught her breath, and then run towards me crying,
"My girl, my girl. I thought you were lost to me too."
"You haven't lost any one yet, Mamma," I said. "Papa is wounded and a prisoner, but that is all. They don't shoot or hang prisoners of war. Agna is coming up the path. She'll be here in a minute. Be our own brave little mother again."
Just then Agna came and mother's grief was somewhat alleviated. With her arms around the two of us she said:
"I'd given up all hope of ever seeing you again. Now, I have you and know that your father is not dead. But they'll not let him live long," she cried. "They fear him. They know they can neither bribe nor humble him. He'll always fight them. I've lost Rory too. I don't know what happened to him. He went with his father on Monday. That was the last I saw of him."