"I'm afraid I'm not up to that. You see——"
"Leave it to me, then. I bet I can rattle my tongue faster than Nahum Noakes. By George! Bobby, what an awful name!"
"You don't understand, Tom. It isn't talk that's wanted. The question is, is he sincere? If he is—well, what about free speech?"
"A free kick is more to the purpose. But what are you driving at?"
"Well, oughtn't we to find out if he really has a conscientious objection?—test him, you know? Mrs. Trenchard seemed to doubt it, and if he's a humbug he ought to be exposed."
"Just so, Socrates. I'll kick him, and see how he takes it. You can't take him to pieces like a clock, and examine his innards."
"That's the difficulty. Your idea won't do at all. You can't justify an unprovoked assault."
"I jolly well can. But I'm dead beat; pedalling that heavy old machine nearly biffed me. Sleep on it, Bob; perhaps you'll dream one of your bright ideas."
But in the morning Templeton confessed that he had slept as sound as a top, and hadn't given the matter another thought. Meditation during the day was not more fruitful, and in the evening, when they went down to the meeting-place opposite the church porch, Templeton had come to the conclusion that they had better hear what Noakes had to say, and act as circumstances seemed to require.
On the way they met Haylock, the constable, nodded to him, and passed on. After a few seconds, however, Eves ran back, saying: