Nurse looked ready to faint, as she thought of her boy being smothered before her eyes in a Benares pot.
"Oh, Turlough! why did you do anything so wild as putting your head into that pot ?" "He didn't, Nursey," said Terry, trembling and pale.

"It was I who put it on his head for a helmet." "I can believe it, Terencia Mary," said Nurse.

"You are always the ringleader.

And why did they call you Mary, like your gentle mother and grandmother?
There's no Mary-ness in you, you shocking girl, that couldn't do your little bit of practising without running after helmets." Here another attempt was made to dislodge Turly's head, while Terry stood wringing her hands.
"I say, Nurse," said Turly, "don't you go abusing Terry for nothing.

I dressed myself up as a soldier, and I was taking my wagons to the wars, and I had everything right but a helmet, and Terry was afraid I might be shot, so there! she isn't to be blamed for it." "And your dinner ready, and you not able to take it," said Nurse.
"Oh, am I not?
Just you see if I don't make use of my mouth as long as I've got it." "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.