"Come then," said Nurse; "and I must see about sending to Dublin for a surgeon, though how I'm to manage all without your Gran'ma knowing, I'm sure I'm at my wits' ends to guess."
Turly ate his dinner with great vigour, but Terry sat miserable and without appetite.
"I put the pot on his head," she thought, "and it will require a surgeon from Dublin to get it off. Will the surgeon have to cut part of his head away? That is what surgeons do; they cut."
Just as her thoughts had arrived at this excruciating point, the pot suddenly made a jerk and fell completely over Turly's face, covering his chin.
Nurse and Terry shrieked, and Turly uttered some unintelligible sounds from within the pot.
"He'll be smothered!" cried Nurse Nancy.
"What would the surgeon do if he were here?" asked Terry, with tears streaming, then darted from the room saying: "I'll bring up Michael Lally and Mr. Walsh!"
These two worthy men were on the scene in a few minutes, and Lally instantly thought of a plan.
"We'll hang him up by the heels," he said.
So the two men took Turly in their arms and "up-ended" him; the consequence being that the pot, being now in a straight position on the head, fell off. Whereupon Turly was re-placed on his feet on the floor.