"The solution is perfectly simple," said Bunyip. "We have merely to stop wandering along the road, and the story will stop wandering through the book. This, too, will baffle the puddin' thieves, for while we wander along the road, our Puddin' is exposed to the covetous glances of every passing puddin'-snatcher. Let us, then, remove to some safe, secluded spot and settle down to a life of gaiety, dance and song, where no puddin'-thief will dare to show a sacrilegious head. Let us, in fact, build a house in a tree. For, mark the advantages of such a habitation-- "Up on high No neighbours pry In at the window, On the sly. "Up on high Bricks you shy At bores and bailiffs Passing by. "Up in a tree You're always free From bores and bailiffs, You'll agree. "Up in the leaves One never grieves Over the pranks Of puddin'-thieves. "If you would be Gay and free, Take my tip and Live in a tree." "We will, we will," shouted the Puddin'-owners; but the Puddin' said sourly: "This is all very well, all this high falutin'. But what about the dreadful news of me being poisoned at ten-thirty this morning?" "You ain't poisoned, Albert," said Bill. "That was only a mere ruse de guerre, as they say in the noosepapers." A what?" demanded the Puddin', suspiciously. "Let words be sufficient, without explanation," said Bill, severely. "And as we haven't time to waste talkin' philosophy to a Puddin', why, into the bag he goes, or we'll never get the story finished." So Puddin' was bundled into the bag, and Bill said, hurriedly "Brilliant as our friend Bunyip has proved himself with his ready wit, it remains for old Bill to suggest the brightest idea of all. Here is our friend Ben, a market gardener of the finest description. Very well. Why not build our house in his market garden. The advantages are obvious. Vegetables free of charge the whole year round, and fruit in season. Eggs to be had for the askin', and a fine, simple, honest feller like Ben, to chat to of an evening. What could be more delightful?" Ben looked very grave at this proposal, and began: "I very much doubt whether there will be enough bed clothes for four people, let alone the carrots are very nervous of strangers--" when Bill cut him short with a hearty clap on the back. "Say no more," said Bill, handsomely. "Rough, good-humoured fellers like us don't need apologies, or any social fal-lals at all. We'll take you as we find you. Without more ado, we shall build a house in your market garden." And, without more ado, they did. The picture opposite saves the trouble of explaining how they built it, and what a splendid house it is. In order that the Puddin' might have plenty of exercise, they made him a little Puddin' paddock, whence he can shout rude remarks to the people passing by; a habit, I grieve to state, he is very prone to.