The characters no longer did anything, and then went and did something else: you were told instead how they did it.

You were not allowed to make up your own mind about them: you had to listen to the mind of T.Sandys; he described and he analyzed; the road he had tried to clear through the thicket was impassable for chips.
"A few more weeks of this," said Pym, "and we should all three be turned out into the streets." Tommy went to bed in an agony of mortification, but presently to his side came Pym.
"Where did you copy this from ?" he asked.

"'It is when we are thinking of those we love that our noblest thoughts come to us, and the more worthy they are of our love the nobler the thought; hence it is that no one has done the greatest work who did not love God.'" "I copied it from nowhere," replied Tommy, fiercely; "it's my own." "Well, it has nothing to do with the story, and so is only a blot on it, and I have no doubt the thing has been said much better before.
Still, I suppose it is true." "It's true," said Tommy; "and yet--" "Go on.

I want to know all about it." "And yet," Tommy said, puzzled, "I've known noble thoughts come to me when I was listening to a brass band." Pym chuckled.

"Funny things, noble thoughts," he agreed.