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She had allowed Beaton to change it himself from the finger where she had worn it to the finger on which he said she ought to wear it. She did not know whether it was right to let him, but she was glad she had done it. "Who? Mr. Fulkerson, goosie-poosie! Not that old stuckup Mr. Beaton of yours!" "He is proud," assented Christine, with a throb of exultation.
In front of the house marched Mr. Stuckup, the Turkey. His chest was stuck out and his tail feathers were spread out too, like a great big fan. He was having a lovely parade all by himself. "Rubber, rubber, rubber," he gobbled. Jehosophat looked down at his feet. He felt guilty but he thought it was very mean of Mr. Stuckup to call attention to his wet rubbers that way.
"Keep quiet," Jehosophat shouted. "You don't need to tell on me!" "Rubber, rubber, rubber," gobbled Mr. Stuckup just the same. Jehosophat kicked at him with his wet feet, and tried to grab the fat red nose that hung down over the turkey's beak. At that old Mr. Stuckup's feathers ruffled in anger, and he hurried off, still gobbling "rubber, rubber, rubber," as loud as he could.
Stuckup marched on very pompously; Ole Man Pumpkin bumped along just in front; the two Corn Soldiers marched by his side; and a lot of others pricked him from behind with their sharp, cruel spears. What were they going to do with him? That was the question. He was soon to know, for they had reached the edge of the Pond. "Duck him!" shouted the Little Red Apples in glee.
His genial character and good-natured way of explaining things made him a favourite at once with the rough western lads he had to teach, who would perhaps have thought a more formal teacher stiff and stuckup.
"Away with him!" shouted one and all the Little Red Apples, the Shiny Pie Pans, Mr. Stuckup the Turkey, and the Tall Corn Soldiers; and all the time Ole Man Pumpkin kept grinning and grinning, as if he were enjoying himself most cruelly. Then Mr. Scarecrow said in a solemn voice: "Soldiers, do your duty with the prisoner!"
She had allowed Beaton to change it himself from the finger where she had worn it to the finger on which he said she ought to wear it. She did not know whether it was right to let him, but she was glad she had done it. "Who? Mr. Fulkerson, goosie-poosie! Not that old stuckup Mr. Beaton of yours!" "He is proud," assented Christine, with a throb of exultation.
She had allowed Beaton to change it himself from the finger where she had worn it to the finger on which he said she ought to wear it. She did not know whether it was right to let him, but she was glad she had done it. "Who? Mr. Fulkerson, goosie-poosie! Not that old stuckup Mr. Beaton of yours!" "He is proud," assented Christine, with a throb of exultation.
He soon sends them flying back to their house on the roof, where they chatter and coo in great excitement. But they do not lose their tempers like "Mr. Stuckup," the turkey, or old "Miss Crosspatch," the guinea-hen with the ugly voice. Once little Wienerwurst caught a pretty pigeon by its tail and bit it. Then Mr.
Stuckup" the children call the turkey. He walks along slowly, swinging from side to side. His feathers are brownish-black or bronze, and his tail often spreads out like a fan. He has the funniest nose. It is red and soft and long and flops over his bill on his chest.
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