Aldous greeted him with the impassive manner, the "three finger" manner, which was with him an inheritance--though not from his grandfather--and did not contribute to his popularity in the neighbourhood.

As for young Leven, he barely nodded to the Radical candidate, and threw himself into a chair as far from the fire as possible.
"Frank and I have met before to-day!" said Wharton, laughing.
"Yes, I've been trying to undo some of your mischief," said the boy, bluntly.

"I found him, Miss Boyce, haranguing a lot of men at the dinner-hour at Tudley End--one of our villages, you know--cramming them like anything--all about the game laws, and our misdeeds--my father's, of course." Wharton raised a protesting hand.
"Oh--all very well! Of course it was us you meant! Well, when he'd driven off, I got up on a cart and had _my_ say.

I asked them whether they didn't all come out at our big shoots, and whether they didn't have almost as much fun as we did--why! the schoolmaster and the postman come to ask to carry cartridges, and everybody turns out, down to the cripples!--whether they didn't have rabbits given them all the year round; whether half of them hadn't brothers and sons employed somehow about the game, well-paid, and well-treated; whether any man-jack of them would be a ha'porth better off if there were no game; whether many of them wouldn't be worse off; and whether England wouldn't be a beastly dull place to live in, if people like him"-- he pointed to Wharton--"had the governing of it! And I brought 'em all round too.

I got them cheering and laughing.