"Wot was 'e doin'?" gasped Wilkes between two paroxysms.
"Well," continued Bindle, "at that particular moment I got up, 'e was talkin' about wot a fine lot o' chaps them 'Uns is, an' wot an awful lot of Aunt Maudies we was. Sort o' 'urt 'is feelin's, it did to know 'e was an Englishman when 'e might 'ave been an 'Un. 'E was jest a-sayin' somethink about Mr. Llewellyn John, when 'e' disappears sudden-like, and then there was a rare ole scrap.
"When the police got 'im out, Lord, 'e was a sight! Never thought ten minutes could change a cove so, and that, Ginger, all comes about through being a Christian and talkin' about peace to people wot don't want peace."
"We all want peace." Ginger stuck out his chin aggressively.
"Ginger!" there was reproach in Bindle's voice, "an' you a soldier too, I'm surprised at you!"
"I want this ruddy war to end," growled Ginger. "I don't 'old wiv war," he added as an after-thought.
"Now wot does it matter to you, Ging, whether you're a-carrin' a pack or a piano on your back?"
"Why don't they make peace?" burst out Ginger irrelevantly.
"Oh, Ginger, Ginger! when shall I teach you that the only way to stop a fight is to sit on the other cove's chest: an' we ain't sittin' on Germany's chest yet. Got it?"
"But they're willing to make peace," growled Ginger. "I don't 'old wiv 'angin' back."