“‘How mosh does he bay you by der veeks?’ said Hans.

“‘I don’ know as that’s any of your business,’ answered Hiram.

“‘Faith, we’ll make it our business,’ said Mike Fagan.  ’We’re Knoights of Labor, we’d have yez to know, and ye can’t make yer bargains jist as ye loikes.  We manes to know how mony hours ye worrks, and how much ye gets for it.’

“‘Knights of Labor!’ said I.  ’Why, that is a kind of title of nobility, is n’t it?  I thought the laws of our country did n’t allow titles of that kind.  But if you have a right to be called knights, I suppose I ought to address you as such.  Sir Michael, I congratulate you on the dignity you have attained.  I hope Lady Fagan is getting on well with my shirts.  Sir Hans, I pay my respects to your title.  I trust that Lady Schleixner has got through that little difficulty between her ladyship and yourself in which the police court thought it necessary to intervene.’

“The two men looked at me.  I weigh about a hundred and eighty pounds, and am well put together.  Hiram was noted in his village as a ‘rahstler.’  But my face is rather pallid and peaked, and Hiram had something of the greenhorn look.  The two men, who had been drinking, hardly knew what ground to take.  They rather liked the sound of Sir Michael and, Sir Hans.  They did not know very well what to make of their wives as ‘ladies.’  They looked doubtful whether to take what had been said as a casus belli or not, but they wanted a pretext of some kind or other.  Presently one of them saw a label on the scoop, or longhandled, spoon-like shovel, with which Hiram had been working.

“‘Arrah, be jabers!’ exclaimed Mike Fagan, ‘but has n’t he been a-tradin’ wid Brown, the hardware fellah, that we boycotted!  Grab it, Hans, and we’ll carry it off and show it to the brotherhood.’

“The men made a move toward the implement.

“‘You let that are scoop-shovel alone,’ said Hiram.

“I stepped to his side.  The Knights were combative, as their noble predecessors with the same title always were, and it was necessary to come to a voie de fait.  My straight blow from the shoulder did for Sir Michael.  Hiram treated Sir Hans to what is technically known as a cross-buttock.

“‘Naow, Dutchman,’ said Hiram, ’if you don’t want to be planted in that are post-hole, y’d better take y’rself out o’ this here piece of private property.  “Dangerous passin,” as the sign-posts say, abaout these times.’

“Sir Michael went down half stunned by my expressive gesture; Sir Hans did not know whether his hip was out of joint or he had got a bad sprain; but they were both out of condition for further hostilities.  Perhaps it was hardly fair to take advantage of their misfortunes to inflict a discourse upon them, but they had brought it on themselves, and we each of us gave them a piece of our mind.