Bill was a small man with a large hat, a beard half as large as his hat, and feet half as large as his beard. Sam Sawnoff's feet were sitting down and his body was standing up, because his feet were so short and his body so long that he had to do both together. They had a pudding in a basin, and the smell that arose from it was so delightful that Bunyip Bluegum was quite unable to pass on. "Pardon me," he said, raising his hat, "but am I right in supposing that this is a steak-and-kidney pudding?" "At present it is," said Bill Barnacle. "It smells delightful," said Bunyip Bluegum. "It is delightful," said Bill, eating a large mouthful. Bunyip Bluegum was too much of a gentleman to invite himself to 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." "Delighted, I'm sure," said Bunyip, seating himself. "There's nothing I enjoy more than a good go in at steak-and-kidney pudding in the open air." "Well said," remarked Sam Sawnoff, patting him on the back. "Hearty eaters are always welcome." "You'll enjoy this Puddin'," said Bill, handing him a large slice. "This is a very rare Puddin'." "It's a cut-an'-come-again Puddin'," said Sam. "It's a Christmas steak and apple-dumpling Puddin'," said Bill. "It's a --. Shall I tell him?" he asked, looking at Bill. Bill nodded, and the Penguin leaned across to Bunyip Bluegum and said in a low voice, "It's a Magic Puddin'." "No whispering," shouted the Puddin' angrily. "Speak up. Don't strain a Puddin's ears at the meal table." "No harm intended, Albert," said Sam, "I was merely remarking how well the crops are looking. Call him Albert when addressing him," he added to Bunyip Bluegum. "It soothes him." "I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Albert," said Bunyip. "No soft soap from total strangers," said the Puddin', rudely. "Don't take no notice of him, mate," said Bill, "That's only his rough and ready way. What this Puddin' requires is politeness and constant eatin'."