"Vell, I never! Vot is it, doctor?" "Irritation of the subcutaneous nerves," said Jim, wisely. "Ah!" said the weary little old man, "sounds bad!" "Oh no--it’ll soon go off. I’ll make you up a tonic with a touch of bromide in it. That’ll soothe you." "_Bromide_! Vy, ain’t that the vicked stuff society ladies take?" "Some of them. But they take it neat--yours will be diluted." Jim made up a bottle of "the mixture," and the old man laid down his shilling. "I feel better already, sir," he said; "’ope you’ll come over to our place and get a bit to eat when you vant it. I’m from over the road--Harris." "Right!" said Jim, "I won’t forget. Good-day, Mr Harris." And in this way an adventure befell Jim, for, feeling hungry about an hour later, he went over to the emporium of Harris & Son. Blocking up the doorway he found a burly ruffian with close-cropped hair and a scarf round his neck. "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." "’E’s a terror," said the old man, in a hasty undertone; "e’s a Hooligan--the worst of ’em--their boss." "I don’t care," said Jim; "I can tackle him." At length the Hooligan managed to unclasp his belt, but even as he did so two policemen entered the shop. "Now then--get out of this--quick!" They knew him--evidently. They were two to his one. And there was Mortimer near at hand to help if required.