“See, see!” he said, pointing. “Just look yonder.”
Truly that was no sight for sober Puritan eyes! There beside the linden tree was a great bed of tulips, a blaze of crimson and gold, like a court lady’s scarf or the cloak of a king’s favourite. Against the green of the hedge, the deep red and clear yellow were fairly dazzling in the sunshine. The Governor scowled and drew back.
“Of what use,” cried the minister in his loud harsh voice. “Of what use on earth can be such a display of gaudy finery?”
There were three members of that company who could answer him. The Indian ambassadors, laughing aloud like children, dropped upon their knees before the glowing flower bed, plucked great handfuls of the brilliant blossoms, filled their quivers, their wampum belts and their blankets with the shining treasure and turned to gaze with visible awe at the owner of all these riches.
“Do you not see,” said Master Simon to the minister, an unsubdued twinkle in his eye, “that there is nothing permitted to grow upon this good, green earth that has not its use?”
“Such a flaunting of colour,” said the Governor severely, yet perhaps with the ghost of a smile held sternly in check, “has not our approval. Now I would see what lies behind that hedge.”
Little Margeret looked up at her father and turned pale; even Master Simon hesitated and was about to frame an excuse, but it was too late. A shrill, terrible scream arose from behind the thick bushes.
“There, there, did I not tell you?” cried one of the deacons, and the whole company pressed forward into the inner garden.
They saw, at first, only a smooth square of grass, rolled and cut close like the lawns in England. Four cypress trees, dug up in the forest and trimmed to some semblance of the clipped yews that grace formal gardens, stood in a square about the hewn stone column that bore a sundial. Quiet, peaceful and innocent enough the place seemed—but there again was that terrible scream. Out from behind a shrub came strutting slowly the chief ornament of the place, Margeret’s pet, Master Simon’s secret, a full-grown, glittering peacock. Seeing a proper company of spectators assembled, the stately bird spread its tail and walked up and down, turning itself this way and that to show off its glories, the very spirit of shallow and empty vanity. For pure amazement and horror, the Governor and his companions stood motionless and without speech.
But if the Englishmen were frozen to the spot, it was far otherwise with the Indians. They flung themselves upon their faces before the terrifying apparition, they held up their hands in supplication that it would do them no harm. Then, after a moment of stricken fear and upon the peacock’s raising its terrible voice again, they sprang to their feet, fled through the gate and up the lane, and paused not once in their headlong flight until they had disappeared into the sheltering forest. The Governor drew a long breath, caught Master Simon’s eye and burst into a great roar of laughter.