irritated, despairing men, they were assembling to hear the answer
that morning given by the masters to their delegates; after which,
as was stated in the notice, a gentleman from London would have the
honour of addressing the meeting on the present state of affairs
between the employers and the employed, or (as he chose to term
them) the idle and the industrious classes. The room was not large,
but its bareness of furniture made it appear so. Unshaded gas
flared down upon the lean and unwashed artisans as they entered,
their eyes blinking at the excess of light.

They took their seats on benches, and awaited the deputation. The
latter, gloomily and ferociously, delivered the masters' ultimatum,
adding thereto not one word of their own; and it sank all the deeper
into the sore hearts of the listeners for their forbearance.

Then the "gentleman from London" (who had been previously informed
of the masters' decision) entered. You would have been puzzled to
define his exact position, or what was the state of his mind as
regarded education. He looked so self-conscious, so far from
earnest, among the group of eager, fierce, absorbed men, among whom
he now stood. He might have been a disgraced medical student of the
Bob Sawyer class, or an unsuccessful actor, or a flashy shopman.
The impression he would have given you would have been unfavourable,
and yet there was much about him that could only be characterised as
doubtful.

He smirked in acknowledgment of their uncouth greetings, and sat
down; then glancing round, he inquired whether it would not be
agreeable to the gentlemen present to have pipes and liquor handed
round, adding, that he would stand treat.