As they approached this mendacious exterior the little boy said something in the foreign language to his companions, whereupon they told the driver to stop at the door, as Mr. Judd was inside. “That ain’t Mr. Judd’s house,” he answered. “His is nearly a mile farther on, around that hill,” and he gave the horses a gentle blow to emphasize the information. But the boy repeated his statement, whatever it was, and the younger man said, with some decision: “Mr. Judd is inside. Stop here.” As the driver drew up before the house he remarked, with a sarcastic smile: “If Mr. Judd lives here, he’s moved in since mornin’.” But the remark made no visible impression. They all got out, and while the two men approached the front door by an old-fashioned brick walk, the boy strolled leisurely through the grassy yard beside the house. The driver was speculating within himself as to what kind of a pig-headed notion made them persist in stopping at Deacon Barlow’s, when, to his surprise, Mr. Judd emerged from a doorway at the side and advanced with long strides toward the diminutive figure in his path. Mr. Judd was a man about sixty years of age, tall, thin and high-shouldered. His long, bony face bore no suggestions of beauty, but there was honesty in every line. The black clothes which hung loosely upon his figure made him seem even taller and thinner than he really was. The boy looked him pleasantly in the face and, when he had approached sufficiently near, said, in a clear, childish voice, slowly and with laborious precision: “Josiah Judd, the General Subahdàr Divodas Gadi and the Prince Rájanya Kásim Mir Dewân Musnud desire to speak with you.” Mr. Judd stopped short, the bushy eyebrows rising high in astonishment. His mouth opened, but no sound came forth. The foreign appearance of the speaker, his familiar manner of addressing one so much older than himself, together with a demeanor that showed no signs of disrespect, and above all, his allusion to the presence of titled strangers caused the American to suspect, for a few seconds, that he was the victim of some mental irregularity. He pushed the straw hat from his forehead, and looked more carefully. The youthful stranger observed this bewilderment, and he was evidently surprised that such a simple statement should be received in so peculiar a manner. But Mr. Judd recovered his composure, lowered the bushy eyebrows, and drawing his hand across his mouth as if to get it into shape again, asked: “Who did you say wanted to see me, sonny?” A small hand was ceremoniously waved toward the two strangers who were now approaching along the Doric portico. Coming up to Mr. Judd they saluted him with a stately deference that was seldom witnessed in Daleford, and the General handed him a letter, asking if he were not Mr. Josiah Judd.