A PROUD PERSON
The peacock in front of the farmhouse paid no heed to Turkey Proudfoot, but moved very slowly and very haughtily about the lawn. His huge tail was spread like a sail. In the light summer breeze it swayed and rippled, sending out a thousand shimmering gleams. And on his tail were dozens of eyes. At least they looked like eyes to Turkey Proudfoot. And they all seemed to be trying to out-stare him.
For a minute or two Turkey Proudfoot glared at this newcomer—this new pet of Johnnie Green's. Then, after first spreading his own tail to its fullest size,[p. 67] he swaggered up to the peacock.
"You needn't pretend not to see me," Turkey Proudfoot gobbled. "You can't fool me. You've a hundred eyes on your tail. And they've been looking at me steadily."
The peacock calmly turned his head and glanced at Turkey Proudfoot. He did not answer.
Turkey Proudfoot thrust his own head forward.
"Maybe I'm not good enough for you to speak to," he began. "Maybe I'm not enough of a dandy—"
Just then somebody interrupted him. It was Henrietta Hen. Being a prying sort of person she had followed Turkey Proudfoot around the house to see what happened when he and the newcomer met.
"Don't be rude to this gentleman," said Henrietta Hen. "He hasn't spoken[p. 68] since he arrived in the wagon an hour ago. We've about decided that he is dumb. And it's a great pity if he is. No doubt his voice—if he had one—would be as beautiful as his tail."
At that the peacock opened his mouth. Out of it there came the harshest sounds that had ever been heard on the farm. Turkey Proudfoot was so startled that he threw his head into the air and took several steps backward. As for Henrietta Hen, she cackled in terror and ran out of the yard and crossed the road, where she narrowly escaped being run over by a passing wagon.