"The cowards!" Mrs. Bindle snapped out the words venomously.
"You got to remember, Lizzie," said Bindle with unwonted seriousness, "that a lot o' those people 'ad lost them wot they was fond of through this 'ere war, an' they wasn't keen to 'ear that the 'Un is a sort o' picture-postcard, with a dove a-sittin' on 'is 'elmet."
"What did you do?" demanded Mrs. Bindle aggressively.
"Well, I jest looked on," said Bindle calmly. "I've warned Guppy more'n once that 'e'd lose 'is tail-feathers if 'e wasn't careful; but 'e was that self-willed, 'e was. You can't throw 'Un-wash over crowds in this 'ere country without runnin' risks." Bindle spoke with conviction.
"But it's a free country, Joseph," protested Mr. Hearty rather weakly.
"Oh! 'Earty, 'Earty!" said Bindle, wagging his head despondently. "When will you learn that no one ain't free to say to a cove things wot make 'im wild, leastwise without bein' ready to put 'is 'ands up."
"But weren't any of his friends there?" enquired Mrs. Bindle.
"I see two of 'em," said Bindle with a reminiscent grin. "They caught Ole Cap-an'-Whiskers jest as 'e was shinnin' up a tree—rare cove for trees 'e seems. 'Auled 'im down they did. Then 'e swore 'e'd never seen ole Guppy in all 'is puff, cried about it, 'e did."
"Peter!" muttered Mrs. Bindle.
"That 'is name?" enquired Bindle. "Any'ow it didn't 'elp 'im, for they pulled 'is whiskers out and dipped 'im in the pond, an' when last I see 'im 'e was wearin' jest a big bruise, a soft collar an' such bits of 'is trousers as the boys didn't seem to want. Made me blush it did."