been an experimental philosopher ascertaining in his own person the amount of
shaking and the varieties of angularity that could be given to the human limbs.
To make amends for the abundant laughter in the striped marquee, Arthur
clapped his hands continually and cried "Bravo!" But Ben had one admirer whose
eyes followed his movements with a fervid gravity that equalled his own. It was
Martin Poyser, who was seated on a bench, with Tommy between his legs.
"What dost think o' that?" he said to his wife. "He goes as pat to the music as if
he was made o' clockwork. I used to be a pretty good un at dancing myself when
I was lighter, but I could niver ha' hit it just to th' hair like that."
"It's little matter what his limbs are, to my thinking," re-turned Mrs. Poyser. "He's
empty enough i' the upper story, or he'd niver come jigging an' stamping i' that
way, like a mad grasshopper, for the gentry to look at him. They're fit to die wi'
laughing, I can see."
"Well, well, so much the better, it amuses 'em," said Mr. Poyser, who did not
easily take an irritable view of things. "But they're going away now, t' have their
dinner, I reckon. Well move about a bit, shall we, and see what Adam Bede's
doing. He's got to look after the drinking and things: I doubt he hasna had much