In heart-stopping panic George dropped the cat, jumped around. The
red-headed Pinner boy, whom that morning he had seen in the bar-parlour,
was scrambling from beneath the sofa, arms and legs thrusting his
flaming pate at full-speed for the door.
"Stop!" George cried, rooted in alarm.
The red-headed Pinner boy got to Ms feet, hurled himself at the door
handle.
"Stop!" roared George, struggling with the stupefaction that gripped
him. "Stop, you young devil!"
The red-headed Pinner boy twisted the handle; was half through the
door as George bounded for him.
"Par-par!" screamed the flaming head, travelling at immense speed down
the passage. "Par-par! It ain't a hairship. It's a cat!"
George dashed.
"Par-par! Par-par! It's a cat!" The redheaded Pinner boy took the
first short flight of stairs in a jump; rounded for the second.
George lunged over the banisters; gripped close in the flaming hair;
held fast.
For a full minute in silence they poised--red-headed Pinner boy, on
tip-toe as much as possible to ease the pain, in acute agony and great
fear; George wildly seeking the plan that must be followed when he
should release this fateful head.
Presently, with a backward pull that most horribly twisted the
red-headed face: "If you speak a word I'll pull your head off,"
George said.
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