She quickly lifted the palm out of the brass pot, carried the pot across the floor, and turned it downwards, like an extinguisher, on Turly's head.

It just took his head in, coming down a little over his eyes.
[Illustration] "Now you are perfect!" cried Terry, clapping her hands.
"It isn't exactly all right," said Turly.

"I should want to see a little better.

Push it a little farther back on me, Terry." Terry tried to do so, but the pot would not move.
"My head is stuck into it," said Turly.

"I'm afraid it will never come off." "Oh, Turly!" "Never mind.