"I know he was killed!" she said; "and what with Jocko's knees and everything I can't bear it. I wonder if Turly would come down and sit with me; that is if my hour isn't up." Alas! the pitiless old clock informed her that she had still at least half an hour of penance to undergo. Perceiving this she stole up softly to the nursery. "Turly, dear! Are you there, Turly?" "Oh yes, I'm here!" said Turly. "Have you done your practising?" "No, I haven't. I wish I had. And will you come down and sit with me, Turly? The drawing-room is so lonely, and the time gets on so slow." "It's silly to be lonely," said Turly. "I'm not a bit lonely here with my bricks. But of course I'll come with you." "Oh, thank you, Turly! Is Nursey with Gran'ma?" "Yes." "What does she look like, Turly?" "Like always," said Turly. "Is her nose long, Turly?" "Isn't it always the same, Terry?" "No, it isn't. When Nurse is angry her nose gets long and her mouth goes down at the corners. And when she's pleased they both shorten up again." "I didn't look at her as much as that," said Turly. So Turly came and played in the drawing-room while Terry went on with her practising. He made a play for himself which was not particularly good for the furniture. A long train of wagons was constructed of chairs put on their sides and one or two small old spider tables with their spindle legs in the air. Turly dressed himself in a few of Granny's best oriental embroideries, and armed himself with the brass fire-irons. "It's war, you know!" he explained to Terry. "Play Malbrook again. But I'm not going to be killed, I can tell you. I'd just like to see anybody trying to do it." "Oh, Turly, you must be killed, because you have no helmet! Oh, I know where I can get you one!" Terry sprang up and flew to where a small palm was standing, its garden-pot enclosed in one made of Benares brass. 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. I'll go on with the fighting, and perhaps some fellow will shoot it off. My wagons are running away, and I must run after them."