SECOND P. No, that's right enough; and, from all I 'ear, the food's well cooked and served reg'lar, if it _is_ plain. FIRST P. Ah, and Bill _enjoys_ his meals now, he does--the work gives him a appetite, and it's years, to my certain knowledge, since he done a stroke, and o' course he ain't allowed no drink---- SECOND P. And _that's_ enough, of itself, to be the savin' of 'im, the way he was! FIRST P. Then, yer see, there's the reg'lar hours, and the freedom from worry, and the like, and nothink on his mind, and the place with every sanitary improvement and that--why, he owns his own self it's bin the makin' of 'im. And from what young Jim was a tellin' me, it appears that if Bill goes on gittin' good-conduck marks at the rate he's doin', there'll be a nice little sum doo to 'im when he's done his time at Wormwood Scrubs. SECOND P. (_sympathetically_). Well, and that makes suthin' to look forward to, don't it, when he _does_ git let out. Talkin' o' that, you've known 'im longer 'n what I 'ave. Do you 'appen to know what it was as he got inter trouble _for_? FIRST P. (_with the consciousness of superior delicacy_). Lor' bless yer, I never thought o' arskin' 'im the question. SECOND P. (_with feeble self-assertion under this implied rebuke_). Well, it all depends on 'ow yer _put_ a question o' that sort. [_He is silent for the remainder of the journey._ A CHATTY PASSENGER (_to a CONTRADICTIOUS PASSENGER, as the 'bus passes Trafalgar Square_). Pretty these 'ere fountains look, with the water playin', don't they? The CONTRADICIOUS PASSENGER. The fountings are well enough, if it wasn't fur the water--norsty messy stuff, I call it. The CHATTY P. (_abandoning the fountains_). It's wonderful what an amount o' traffic there is in the Strand, ain't it? CONTRAD. P. Nothink to what it was forty years ago! [_His neighbour, not feeling in a position to deny it, subsides._ The DRIVER (_to a PASSENGER WITH A BADGE, immediately behind him_). 'Ow is it you're orf yer keb to-day, Bob? Taking a day orf, or what? The PASSENGER WITH A BADGE. Not much. Goin' up to Bow Street to gimmy evidence in a collision case--that's all. DRIVER (_dubiously_). Bow Street! Ain't that rorther shovin' yer 'ed in the lion's mouth, eh? The P. WITH A B. (_with virtuous serenity_). Not _it_! What ha' they got agen me all the time I bin licensed? Only three drunks and a loiter! The CHATTY P. (_returning to the charge_). Orful state the roads are in with all this mud! I s'pose that's the London County Council, eh? The CONTRAD. P. London Kayounty Kayouncil! No, it ain't--nothink o' the sort! I'll _tell_ yer 'oo it is, if yer want to know; it's Gladstone! The CHATTY P. (_mildly surprised, but glad to have discovered common ground_). I see you're a Conservative--like myself.