"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 had not previously spoken. "It ain't our scrap, an' we been let in for it by a lot o' stutterin' toffs wot us workin'-men sends to Parliament. It makes me fair sick, an' beer goin' up like 'ell."
There was a murmur that showed the man had voiced the general opinion of the room.
"Wot jer got to say to that, Joe?" demanded Ruddy Bill aggressively.
"I got a good deal to say to it, Sweet William," remarked Bindle, removing his pipe from his mouth and speaking with great deliberation. "I got quite a lot to say. Supposin' I see a couple of big chaps a-'ammerin' your missis an' kickin' yer kids about, an' I says, 'It ain't nothink to do wi' me,' an' takes no notice. Would any of yer ever want to speak to me again?"