Wombat."

"That is no excuse, sir," bellowed Uncle Wattleberry. "No one but an unmitigated ruffian would pull an Uncle's whiskers.

"Who but the basest scoundrel, double-dyed,
Would pluck an Uncle's whiskers in their pride,
What baseness, then, doth such a man disclose
Who'd raise a hand to pluck an Uncle's nose?"

"If I've gone too far," said Bill, "I apologize. If I'd known you was an Uncle I wouldn't have done it."

"Apologies are totally inadequate," shouted Uncle Wattleberry. "Nothing short of felling you to the earth with an umbrella could possibly atone for the outrage. You are a danger to the whisker growing public. You have knocked my hat off, pulled my whiskers, and tried to remove my nose."

"Pullin' your nose," said Bill, solemnly, "is a mistake any man might make, for I put it to all present, as man to man, if that nose don't look as if it's only gummed on."

All present were forced to admit that it was a mistake that any man might make. "Any man," as Sam remarked, "would think he was doing you a kindness by trying to pull it off."

"Allow me to point out also, my dear Uncle," said Bunyip Bluegum, "that your whiskers were responsible for this seeming outrage. Let your anger, then, be assuaged by the consciousness that you are the victim, not of malice, but of the misfortune of wearing whiskers."

"How now," exclaimed Uncle Wattleberry. "My nephew Bunyip among these sacrilegious whisker-pluckers and nose-pullers. My nephew, not only aiding and abetting these ruffians, but seeking to palliate their crimes! This is too much. My feelings are such that nothing but bounding and plunging can relieve them."

And thereupon did Uncle Wattleberry proceed to bound and plunge with the greatest activity, shouting all the while

"You need not think I bound and plunge
  Like this in festive mood.
I bound that bounding may expunge
  The thought of insult rude.

"An Uncle's rage must seek relief,
  His anger must be drowned;
It is to soothe an Uncle's grief
  That thus I plunge and bound.

"I bound and plunge, I seethe with rage,
  My mighty anger seeks
So much relief that I engage
  To plunge and bound for weeks."

Seeing that there was no possibility of inducing Uncle Wattleberry to look at the affair in a reasonable light, they walked off and left him to continue his bounding and plunging for the amusement of the people of Bungledoo, who brought their chairs out on to the footpath in order to enjoy the sight at their ease. Bill's intention to regard everybody he met with suspicion was somewhat damped by this mistake, and he said there ought to be a law to prevent a man going about looking as if he was a disguised puddin'-thief.