He shrugged his shoulders, made some laughing remark to a friend on the platform, and with all the nonchalance in the world asked the meeting if they wished to hear any more.

A claque of his supporters replied with feigned enthusiasm, but a malcontent at Alice's side rose and stamped to the door.

"I came to hear sense," he cried, "and no this bairn's-blethers!" The poor girl was in despair.

She had fancied him a man of power and ambition, a doer, a man of action.

But he was no more than a creature of words and sentiment, graceful manners, and an engaging appearance.
The despised Mr.Stocks was the real worker.