She stopped to listen to the riot of song
All the joy had gone out of the spring. It was a commonplace day and the sun made her head ache.
Granny was surprised when, dinner over, Hazel failed to go to her house among the pines. The little girl had been as regular as if she were already a teacher in a real school, and this failure to keep her appointment boded something serious.
“She don’t keep colored people’s time,” Granny had said proudly to a neighbor; “she done never forget the clock on the meeting-house in Boston.” So when Hazel went to her spinning-wheel and worked hard and nervously, the old woman felt troubled but deemed it best to say nothing.
“Will you walk a way with me, dearie?” she said in the middle of the afternoon. “I’s an errand and I’s pining for company.”
Hazel put on the pink sun-bonnet and together they went down the road.
“Look at that turkey-cock,” Granny said, pointing to one in the field at their side. And indeed he was a wonderful sight. Every feather stood out. His great tail was spread, his body thrown back for his majestic stride. Near him was the hen bird, indifferent to all of his efforts to attract her attention. He went up to her, beating his outstretched wings upon the ground. He walked pompously about her. Hazel forgot her trouble for a little in watching him.
“That’s his courting,” said Granny. “He can’t sing like the mocker, so he makes up with his fine feathers.”
“She doesn’t care about him,” said Hazel, and took no further interest in their walk.