They found that the meeting had already started. A group of the male villagers, old and young, was gathered in a half-circle in front of a sturdy-looking fellow of some twenty years, who was perched on the churchyard wall. Nahum Noakes’s appearance was that of an unusually robust clerk. His black hair was cut short; his straw hat was tilted back, showing a neat middle parting and well-oiled side-shows. He wore a pointed collar and a lilac tie; his grey flannel trousers were hitched up, revealing lilac socks neatly stretched above brown shoes. "You want to know what I said to the tribunal?" he was saying as the two new-comers sauntered up. His accent was that of a countryman overlaid with a thin veneer of town polish. "I’ll tell ’ee. ’Your name?’ says the chairman. ’Noakes,’ says I. ’Christian name?’ says he. ’Nahum,’ says I. ’Yes, your name,’ says he. ’Nahum,’ says I. ’Don’t waste our time,’ says he; ’what is your _other_ name besides Noakes?’ ’Nahum,’ says I. You see, neighbours, I was taking a rise out of him. ’Is the man an idiot?’ says he. ’No, he’s not, and he knows his Bible,’ says I. That was a good one, wasn’t it? Well, there was a young officer there, only a lieutenant, but as stuck up as if he was commander-in-chief. Military representative, he’s called, I believe. He had a paper in his hand, and he cocked his eye at it, and said: ’The man’s Christian name is Nahum, I find.’ ’Oh! ah!’ says the chairman, fixing his eyeglass. ’One of the minor prophets. Well, Nahum Noakes, what are the grounds of your appeal?’ ’I don’t hold with fighting,’ says I; ’’tis against my principles.’ One of the tribunal, a little worm of a feller, pipes up: ’What would you do, my man, if the Germans landed?’ ’I’d meet ’em as men and brothers,’ says I." "Was they yer principles when you cracked young Beddoe’s skull for saying as you sanded yer feyther’s sugar?" cried a voice from the outskirts of the crowd. There was a titter; Mr. Noakes, who had been listening to his son’s eloquence with a fond smile of paternal pride, scowled at the interrupter, Runt the smith. "Abuse is no argument, Mr. Runt," said Nahum, obviously nettled. "What happened years ago when I lived in the village is not to the point. Since I’ve been a resident in the town I’ve done a deal of deep thinking, I can tell you, and studied a lot of subjects you’ve never heard of——" "Ever study phrenology?" asked Templeton, moving forward with Eves into the circle. "Got it?" whispered Eves, eagerly. "Perhaps," returned Templeton. Nahum stared at his questioner. The villagers drew together, Runt winked at Coggins the butcher. Mr. Noakes looked annoyed, and stiffened his long, straight upper lip. "You said?" began Nahum. "I asked you if you had ever studied phrenology, the science of reading the mind through the skull." "Well, I won’t exactly say that I’ve been very deep into it, but——"