Part 7 (1/2)

”Do you suppose that the Indians know whether cloth or velvet is grander? Those we see like leather and paint and feathers,” said Priscilla. ”I hold that our men should overawe the savages, but----”

”And I hold that brides should be bonny, let it be here, or in England,” Constance interrupted her. ”What will you wear on the day of days, Priscilla, you darling?”

”Well, I have consulted with Mistress Brewster,” admitted Priscilla, regretfully. ”I did think, being a woman, she would know better how a young maid feeleth as to her bridal gown than her G.o.dly husband. But she saith that it is least of all becoming on such a solemn occasion to let my mind consider my outward seeming. So I have that excellent wool skirt that Mistress White dyed for me a good brown, and that with my blue body----”

”Blue fiddlesticks, Priscilla Mullins!” Constance again interrupted her, impatiently. ”You'll wear nothing of the kind. I tell you it shall be white for you on your wedding day, with your comely face and your honest eyes s.h.i.+ning over it! I have a sweet embroidered muslin, and I can fas.h.i.+on it for you with a little cleverness and a deep frill combined, for that you are taller than I, and more plump to take up its length, there's no denying, Prissy dear! We'll not stand by and see our plantation's one real romance end in dyed brown cloth and dreariness, will we, girls?”

”No!” cried Humility Cooper who would have followed Constance's lead into worse danger than a pretty wedding gown for Priscilla.

But Elizabeth Tilley, her cousin, looked doubtful. ”It sounds nice,” she admitted, ”but I never can tell what is wrong and what is right, because, though we read our Bibles to learn our duty, the Bible does not condemn pleasure, and our teachers do. So it might be safer to wear dull garments when we are married, Constance, and not be light-minded.”

”You mean light-bodied; light-coloured bodies, Betsy!” Constance laughed at her, with a glint of mischievous appreciation of Elizabeth's unconscious humour that was like her father. ”No, indeed, my sister pilgrim. A snowy gown for Pris, though I fas.h.i.+on it, who am not too skilful. Oh, Francis Billington, how you scared me!” she cried, jumping to her feet and upsetting Damaris who leaned upon her, as Francis Billington burst into the room, out of breath, but full of importance.

”Nothing to fear with me about, girls,” he a.s.sured the roomful. ”But great news! Ma.s.sasoit has come, marched in upon us before we expected him, and the treaty is to be made to-morrow. Squanto is as proud and delighted as----”

Squanto himself appeared in the doorway at that moment, a smile mantling his high cheek bones and a gleam in his eyes that betrayed the importance that his pride tried to conceal.

”Chief come, English girls,” he announced. ”No more you be fear Indian; Ma.s.sasoit tell you be no more fear, he and Squanto fight for you, and he say true. No more fear, little English girl!” he laid his hand protectingly upon Damaris's head and the child smiled up at him, confidingly.

Giles came fast upon Squanto's heels. His face was flushed, his eyes kindled; Constance saw with a leap of her heart that he looked like the lad she had loved in England and had lost in the New World.

”Got Father's coat ready, Con?” he asked. ”There's to be a counsel held, and my father is to preside over it on our side, arranging with Ma.s.sasoit. My father is to settle with him for the colony--of course Mr. Winslow will have his say, also.”

”I meant to furbish the coat somewhat more, Giles, but the necessary repairs are made,” said Constance yielding her brother the garment. ”How proud of Father he is!” she thought, happily. ”How truly he adores him, however awry matters go between them!”

Giles hung the coat on his arm, carefully, to keep it from wrinkles, a most unusual thoughtfulness in him, and hastened away.

”No more work to-day, girls, or at least of this sort,” cried Constance gaily, her heart lightened by Giles's unmistakable pride in their father. ”We shall be called upon to cook and serve. Many Indians come with Ma.s.sasoit, Squanto?”

”No, his chiefs,” Squanto raised one hand and touched its fingers separately, then did the same with the other hand. ”Ten,” he announced after this ill.u.s.tration.

”That means no less than thirty potatoes, and something less than twenty quarts of porridge,” laughed Constance, but was called to account by her stepmother, who had come in from the rear.

”Will you never speak the truth soberly, Constantia Hopkins?” she said. ”We do not count on two quarts of porridge for every Indian we feed. Take this child; he is heavy for so long, and he hath kicked with both heels in my flesh every step of the way. Another Hopkins, I'll warrant, I've borne for my folly in marrying your father; a restless, headstrong brood are they, and Ocea.n.u.s is already not content to sit quietly on his mother's hip, but will drive her, like a camel of the desert.” She detached Ocea.n.u.s's feet from her skirt and handed him over to Constance with a jerk. Constance received him, biting her lips to hold back laughter, and burying her face in the back of the baby neck that had been pitifully thin during the cruel winter, but which was beginning to wrinkle with plumpness now.

Too late she concealed her face; Mistress Eliza caught a glimpse of it and was upon her.

”It's not a matter for laughter that I should be pummelled by your brother, however young he may be,” she cried; Dame Eliza had a way of underscoring her children's kins.h.i.+p to Constance whenever they were troublesome. ”Though, indeed, I carry on my back the weight of your father's children, and my heart is worse bruised by the ingrat.i.tude of you and your brother Giles, than is my flesh with this child's heels. And Mistress Bradford is proud-hearted, and that I will maintain, Puritan or no Puritan, or whether she be one of the elect of this chosen company, or a sinner. For plain could I see this afternoon that she held her husband to be a better man, and higher in the colony, than my husband, nor would she give way one jot when I put it before her--though not so that she would see what I would be after--that Stephen Hopkins it was who was chosen with Mr. Winslow to make the treaty, and not William Bradford. Well, far be it from me to take pride in worldly things; I thank the good training that my mother gave me that I am humble-minded. Often and often would she say to me: Eliza, never plume yourself that you, and your people before you, are, as they are, better, more righteous people than are most other folks. For it is our part to bear ourselves humbly, not setting ourselves up for our virtue, but content to know that we have it and to see how others are lacking in it, making no traffic with sinners, but yet not boasting. And as to you, young women, it would be better if you betook yourselves to your proper homes, not lingering here to encourage Constantia Hopkins to idleness when I've my hands full, and more than full, to make ready for the Indian chiefs' supper, and I need her help.”

On this strong hint the Plymouth girls bade Constance good-bye and departed, leaving her to a bustle of hard work, accompanied by her stepmother's scolding; Dame Eliza had come back dissatisfied from her visit, and Constance paid the penalty.

The next morning the men of Plymouth gathered at the house of Elder Brewster, attired in all the decorum of their Sunday garb, their faces gravely expressive of the importance of the event about to take place.

Captain Myles Standish, indeed, felt some misgivings of the pervading gravity of clothing of the civilized partic.i.p.ants in this treaty, that it might not sufficiently impress their savage allies. He had fastened a bright plume that had been poor Rose's, on the side of his hat, and a band of English red ribbon across his breast, while he carried arms burnished to their brightest, his sword unsheathed, that the sun might catch its gleam.

Elder Brewster shook his head slightly at the sight of this display, but let it pa.s.s, partly because Captain Standish ill-liked interference in his affairs, partly because he understood its reason, and half believed that the doughty Myles was right.

Not less solemn than the white men, but as gay with colours as the Puritans were sombre, the Indians, headed by Ma.s.sasoit, marched to the rendezvous from the house which had been allotted to them for lodging.

With perfect dignity Ma.s.sasoit took his place at the head of the council room, and saluted Captain Standish and Elder Brewster, who advanced toward him, then retreated and gave place to Stephen Hopkins and Edward Winslow, who were to execute the treaty.

Its terms had already been discussed, but the Indians listened attentively to Squanto's interpretation of Mr. Hopkins's reading of them. They promised, on the part of Ma.s.sasoit, perfect safety to the settlers from danger of the Indians' harming them, and, on the part of the pilgrims, aid to Ma.s.sasoit against his enemies; on the part of both savage and white men, that justice should be done upon any one who wronged his neighbour, savage or civilized.

The gifts that bound both parties to this treaty were exchanged, and the treaty, that was so important to the struggling colony, was consummated.

The women and children, even the youths, were excluded from the council; the women had enough to do to prepare the feast that was to celebrate the compact before Ma.s.sasoit took up his march of forty miles to return to his village.

But Giles leaned against the cas.e.m.e.nt of the open door, unforbidden, glowing with pride in his father, for the first time in heart and soul a colonist, completely in sympathy with the event he was witnessing.

Stephen Hopkins saw him there and made no sign of dismissal. Their eyes met with their old look of love; father and son were in that hour united, though separated. Suddenly there arose a tremendous racket, a volley of shots, a beating of pans, shouts, pandemonium.

Captain Myles Standish turned angrily and saw John and Francis Billington, decorated with streamers of party-coloured rags, which made them look as if they had escaped from a madhouse, leaping and shouting, beating and shooting; John firing his clumsy ”Bouncing Bully” in the air as fast as he could load it; Francis filling in the rest of the outrageous performance.

But worst of all was that Stephen Hopkins, who saw what Captain Myles saw, saw also his own boy, whom but a moment before he had looked at lovingly, bent and swayed by laughter.

Captain Standish strode out in a towering fury to deal with the Billingtons, with whom he was ceaselessly dealing in anger, as they were ceaselessly afflicting the little community with the pranks that shocked and outraged its decorum.

Stephen Hopkins dashed out after him. Quick to anger, sure of his own judgments, he instantly leaped to the conclusion that Giles had been waiting at the door to enjoy this prank when it was enacted, and it was a prank that pa.s.sed ordinary mischief. If the Indians recognized it for a prank, they would undoubtedly take it as an insult to them. Only the chance that they might consider it a serious celebration of the treaty, afforded hope that it might not annul the treaty at its birth, and put Plymouth in a worse plight than before it was made.

Mr. Hopkins seized Giles by the shoulders and shook him.

”You laugh? You laugh at this, you young wastrel?” he said, fiercely. ”By heavens, I could deal with you for conniving at this, which may earn salt tears from us all, if the savages take it amiss and retaliate on us. Will you never learn sense? How, in heaven's name, can you help on with this, knowing what you know of the danger to your own sisters should the savages take offence at it? Angels above us, and but a moment agone I thought you were my son, and rejoicing in this important day!”

Giles, white, with burning eyes, looked straight into his father's eyes, rage, wounded pride, the sudden revolt of a love that had just been enkindled anew in him, distorting his face.

”You never consider justice, sir,” he said, chokingly. ”You never ask, nor want to hear facts, lest they might be in my favour. You welcome a chance to believe ill of me. It is Giles, therefore the worst must be true; that's your argument.”

He turned away, head up, no relenting in his air, but the boy's heart in him was longing to burst in bitter weeping.

Stephen Hopkins stood still, a swift doubt of his accusation, of himself, keen sorrow if he had wronged his boy, seizing him.

”Giles, stop. Giles, come back,” he said.

But Giles walked away the faster, and his father was forced to return to Ma.s.sasoit, to discover whether he had taken amiss what had happened, and, if he had, to placate him, could it be done.

To his inexpressible relief he found that their savage guests had not suspected that the boys' mischief had been other than a tribute to themselves, quite in the key of their own celebrations of joyous occasions.

After the dinner in which all the women of the settlement showed their skill, the Indians departed as they had come, leaving Squanto to be the invaluable friend of their white allies.

Giles kept out of his father's way; Stephen Hopkins was not able to find him to clear up what he began to hope had been an unfounded suspicion on his part. ”Zounds!” said the kind, though irascible man. ”Giles is almost grown. If I did wrong him, I am sorry and will say so. An apology will not harm me, and is his due--that is in case it is due! I'll set the lad an example and ask his pardon if I misjudged him. He did not deny it, to be sure, but then Giles is too proud to deny an unjust accusation. And he looked innocent. Well, a good lad is Giles, in spite of his faults. I'll find him and get to the bottom of it.”

”Giles is all right, Stephen,” said Myles Standish, to whom he was speaking. ”Affairs that go wrong between you are usually partly your own fault. He needs guiding, but you lose your own head, and then how can you guide him? But those Billington boys, they are another matter! By Gog and Magog, there's got to be authority put into my hands to deal with them summarily! And their father's a madman, no less. I told them to-day they'd cool their heels in Plymouth jail; we'd build Plymouth jail expressly for that purpose. And I mean it. I'm the last man to be hard on mischief; heaven knows I was a harum-scarum in my time. But mischief that is overflowing spirits, and mischief that is harmful are two different matters. I've had all I'll stand of Jack Billington, his Bouncing Bully and himself!”

”Here comes Connie. I wonder if she knows anything of her brother? If she does, she'll speak of it; if she doesn't, don't disturb her peace of mind, Myles. My pretty girl! She hurts me by her prettiness, here in the wilderness, far from her right to a sweet girl's dower of pleasure, admiration, dancing, and----”

”Stephen, Stephen, for the love of all our discarded saints, forbear!” protested Captain Myles, interrupting his friend, laughing. ”If our friends about here heard you lamenting such a list of lost joys for Constance, by my sword, they'd deal with you no gentler than I purpose dealing with the Billingtons! Ah, sweet Con, and no need to ask how the day of the treaty hath left you! You look abloom with youth and gladness, dear la.s.s.”