Hiram had quite made up his mind not to begin any personal violence with Adam Banks. The man had time and again sought to coax the young farm manager into a fight.
Banks was half a head taller than Hiram and much bulkier in appearance. He could easily have overcome Orrin, who was slight and still suffering from the effects of the attack of measles.
But when Orrin leaped back upon the veranda and started to enter the house, Hiram could not allow the matter to go farther without interference. He would not see Orrin attack a man plainly so much stronger than himself.
"Hold on!" the young farm manager commanded. "You stay out of this," and he caught the angry Orrin by the arm. "If anybody is going to make Adam Banks walk French, it has to be me. Really, nobody else has a right to throw him out, I presume, as I am the representative of the owner of the farm."
"Hurry up and do something, then," growled Orrin. "I'm not going to stand around and see Delia abused."
Hiram pushed ahead of his friend, and as Banks, still dodging and laughing at Miss Pringle, gyrated nearer, Hiram stepped quickly forward and seized him by his shirt collar and the waistband of his trousers.
"Hi! Hey!" bawled Banks. "What are you trying to do?"
He dropped the broom. He struggled mightily to break away. But all he could do was to kick and paw the air.
Hiram had him right on the tips of his toes, and propelled him across the floor in a most undignified way and at great speed. Doubtless the young fellow's success arose from the unexpectedness of his attack; but Hiram was likewise very strong.
He shot Banks out of the front door of the new house, across the veranda and down the steps, and thence across the front yard to the road.