gers before his eyes.

"It's women everywhere now. They're on buses, drivin' vans, shovin'
barrers--yer can't get away from 'em," said Wilkes resentfully.

"That's all right for you, Wilkie, saves yer lookin' for trouble, ole
son," said Bindle. "'Ope they 'aven't been chasin' yer too much,
Charlie; you ain't no sprinter."

"Wot's the war about, that's wot I want to know? Why are we fightin'
the Germans?" Ginger broke in irrelevantly, looking round him
aggressively as if for someone to attack.

No one seemed desirous of answering Ginger's question. All looked
instinctively towards Bindle, who, to gain time, began filling his pipe
with great care and deliberation.

"You got war on the brain, Ginger," remarked Ruddy Bill.

"Wot's the war about, Joe?" asked Wilkes.

"About the silliest thing I ever 'eard of," said Bindle. "Everybody
says they wanted peace, on'y they was attacked. As far as I can see,
Germany wanted wot she calls a place in the sun; she was sort o'
gettin' chilly in the shade, so she says to the Alleys, 'Sun or blazes,
the choice is wi' you, mates,' an' the Alleys says, 'Blazes it is, ole
sport,' an' starts a-firin' back, an' that's 'ow it all come about."

"Why don't they arbitrate?" enquired the little man with the grey
whiskers.

Bindle looked at him pitifully. "Cave, yer surprise me. If 'Uggles
'ere wanted your trousers and started a-pullin' away at the legs, would
yer say, 'We'll arbitrate'? No, yer'd fetch 'im one on the jaw."

"Wot's arbitration?" demanded Ruddy Bill.

"Arbitration, Sweet William, is somethin' you're always advisin' other
people to do, but never does yerself. Now, if you an' Ginger both
wanted to stand me my next pint, an' was goin' to fight about it,
someone might say 'arbitrate'--that is to say, let another cove decide
wot 'adn't no interest in the matter, an' p'r'aps he'd get the beer."

"Then why don't they arbitrate instead of blowin' each other to bits?"
demanded a whiskered man known as Ted.

"Because war comes about by someone wantin' wot ain't 'is," replied
Bindle oracularly. "Wot 'ud you say if I said I wanted yer watch?"

"I'd see yer to blinkin' nowhere, fust," was the reply.

"Well, that's jest wot the gents say wot we votes for, on'y they says
it prettier than wot you can, ole son." Bindle grinned contentedly at
his exposition of international ethics.

"We're fightin' just because Germany went for Belgium," remarked a
heavy-bearded man who