_Roman_
"Oh, isn't it a pity the peacock doesn't know that he can't sing? Why
doesn't he stop that fearful screeching?"
Little Katie put her hands over her ears to keep out the sound.
[Illustration: JUNO AND HER PEACOCK. From an ancient fresco]
"You know the peacock was once an animal that hasn't a very sweet
voice," said Jack.
"No, I don't know, but Charlie Green's pet donkey makes a better noise
than this bird. There, I am glad he has stopped."
"Shall I tell you a story?" asked Jack.
"Once upon a time a donkey felt that he was much abused just because his
coat was rough and his face and shape were so homely; so he begged of
Jupiter to make him into something beautiful. In a short time he was
changed into a peacock and, looking down upon his fine feathers, began
to sing. But, oh, the trouble he was in then! He had forgotten to have
his voice changed, too, and it was the same old donkey voice that he had
always had."
"That's a funny story, Jack. It seems to me that mother told us that a
long time ago."
"Then I know another story of how the eyes came into the peacock's
feathers."
"You are a queer boy, Jack. Those eyes were always there."
"Oh, no, they were not, Kate. You watch the young peacock chickens,
and I'll prove my story, or part of it, anyway. Don't you remember
that at first they are a dull brown, and then, when they are about a
year old, they begin to show a little green? They are three years old
before the eyes begin to show in the feathers. You are a queer girl to
forget that."
"Well, tell your story, and I will see if it is a good one." So
Jack began:
"Argus was a watchman. His great eyes were like green balls, but with
fifty little eyes in each. Yes, he had a hundred eyes, and never more
than two went to sleep at once. He could see even better in the night
than in the daytime, so he was a fine watchman.
"Once Argus was told to watch a certain prisoner who could not be shut
in a room, but had to be left in a field. Not once was he to lose sight
of this prisoner. If he did, every one of his hundred eyes would be
taken from him.
"Day and night Argus watched, never sleeping except with two eyes at a
time. He was as faithful as fifty soldiers.
"But he loved music, and the friends of the prisoner knew it. So they
sent some one to him who could play upon the harp and sing, thinking
that perhaps Argus might be charmed to sleep.
"This player's name was Mercury, and he was so quick that some thought
he wore wings on his feet. If he did wear them, he could take them off
when he liked, for he was just a plain shepherd in a sheepskin coat and
sheepskin sandals when Argus saw him.
"If he had come with a spear, or with bow and arrow, Argus would have
been ready to keep him out, but Mercury was too bright for that.
"No, he was just a plain shepherd, and he sat down in a field near the
one Argus was in, to watch his sheep. While he sat there, he played such
sweet music that Argus said, 'Bring your sheep into my field and we will
watch together.'
"That was just what Mercury had planned. So he was not very long in
getting his sheep into the field with Argus. There the two lay in the
shade of the trees and told stories, and Mercury played and watched the
green eyes of Argus, while Argus watched the prisoner.
"One night Mercury played so softly, so sweetly, that for one minute
every one of the hundred green eyes of Argus closed, the watchman
nodded, and in that minute Mercury struck him on the neck and cut off
his head. Then the prisoner was free. Juno took the green eyes of Argus
and put them on her pet bird, the peacock."
"Oh, Jack, I don't believe a word of it."
"I don't, either," said Jack, "but these stories are both more than two
thousand years old, and I shouldn't wonder if some one did believe them
a long time ago."