lunch, but he said carelessly, "Am I right in supposing that
there are onions in this pudding?"

Before Bill could reply, a thick, angry voice came out of the
pudding, saying--

"Onions, bunions, corns and crabs,
Whiskers, wheels and hansom cabs,
Beef and bottles, beer and bones,
Give him a feed and end his groans."

"Albert, Albert," said Bill to the Puddin', "where's your manners?"

"Where's yours?" said the Puddin' rudely, "guzzling away
there, and never so much as offering this stranger a slice."

"There you are," said Bill. "There's nothing this Puddin' enjoys
more than offering slices of himself to strangers."

"How very polite of him," said Bunyip, but the Puddin' replied
loudly--

"Politeness be sugared, politeness be hanged,
Politeness be jumbled and tumbled and banged.
It's simply a matter of putting on pace,
Politeness has nothing to do with the case."

"Always anxious to be eaten," said Bill, "that's this Puddin's
mania. Well, to oblige him, I ask you to join us at lunch."