"A what?" exclaimed Bill, letting go the whiskers. "An Uncle," replied Bunyip Bluegum.
"An Uncle," roared Uncle Wattleberry. "An Uncle of the highest integrity. You have most disgracefully and unmercifully pulled an Uncle's whiskers."
"I can assure you," said Bill, "I pulled them under the delusion that you was a disguised 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."