Their revolution hadn't arrived yet. But such things took time of course. And the Whitby people were hard to convince. Most just wanted to mind their own business and go on with their day. Surely that only demonstrated his point. They were so oppressed that they didn't realize they were oppressed. So the fact that they didn't acknowledge that they were oppressed or didn't want to change anything about it, proved that they were in fact oppressed. And Jacob had devoted his life to changing that. 

His mother kept writing to him, asking when he would go back to university. His father had offered to let him take over the factory already, if he didn't like university. But Jacob was here, doing the things that really mattered. He just hoped his father wouldn't stop sending him money.

Today was market day, and Jacob was in the market, trying to talk to people to test the waters and possibly invite them to their meetings. Naively, he and his comrades had started out with pamphlets and posters. But they had soon realized that the only use the older members of the working classes had for these was to wipe their backsides with them. Never mind. Talking to people helped them distinguish comrade from foe more easily anyway.

Jacob was dressed simply, almost like a working class man, except his clothes actually fitted him and weren't as worn. He had a red scarf around his neck in place of a tie. The young man looked around, searching for the next approachable target.