"Now, my man!" said Jim, wishing to pass by.
The gentleman addressed turned on him with an oath.
"Oo are you 'my manning,' young lamp-post? You get out of my way--d'ye 'ear?"
Now Jim conjectured--and rightly--that the ruffian in question was of the Hooligan order, or belonged to a class of society near akin to that order. So, being aware that he had to hold his own in this district, and that it would never do to be intimidated, and bearing in mind that in situations of this kind it was a good plan to hit first and hit hard, he let drive between the fellow's eyes and knocked him clean off his feet.
This done, he stepped over him and proceeded to the counter to order some food.
As the rascal dropped, a pale slip of a girl, who was holding a baby, started up from the table at which she was sitting and rushed towards the prostrate figure.
The man Jim had felled struggled to his feet with a flood of imprecations pouring from his lips. The blow had dazed him, and for a few moments he glared about him in an uncertain way. Then, as his senses cleared, he perceived Jim, and gave a hoarse cry, fumbling the while at the heavily buckled belt which he wore round his waist.
"Oh, Jack--don't!" cried the girl, interposing her slender form between the man and the object of his meditated vengeance. As she did so, Jim noticed that one of her eyes was discoloured; it was not hard to guess who had caused the injury.
"Get over the counter!" cried Mr Harris; "you'll be safer 'ere."
"Not I," said Jim; "I can look after myself."