"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."