"No, Limby no pudding!"
Drum! drum! drum!
A piece of pudding was, however, put on Limby's plate, but he kept on drumming as before. At last he drummed the bottom of the mug into the soft pudding, to which it stuck, and by which means it was scattered all over the carpet.
"Limby, my darling!" said his mother; and the servant was called to wipe Limby's mug and pick the pudding up from the floor.
Limby would not have his mug wiped, and floundered about, and upset the cruet-stand and the mustard on the table-cloth.
"Oh, Limby Lumpy—naughty boy!" said his father.
"Don't speak so cross to the child: he is but a child," said his mother. "I don't like to hear you speak so cross to the child."
"I tell you what it is," said his father, "I think the boy does as he likes. But I don't want to interfere."
Limby now sat still, resolving what to do next. He was not hungry, having been stuffed with a large piece of pound-cake about an hour before dinner; but he wanted something to do, and could not sit still.
Presently a saddle of mutton was brought on the table. When Limby saw this he set up a crow of delight.