Whatever the cause, it produced a shock, this being summoned back to America, to exile, and to the hair-cloth sofa by the voice of Mrs. Judd announcing dinner; for the step was long and the change was sudden from the princely pleasure garden to the Puritan parlor, and every nerve and fibre of his Oriental heart revolted at the outrage. There was a war-like gleam in the melancholy eyes as he joined the little procession that moved toward the dining-room. As they sat at table, the three guests with Mrs. Judd, who poured the tea, he frowned with hostile eyes upon the steak, the boiled potatoes, the large wedge-shaped piece of yellow cheese, the pickles, and the apple-pie. He was empty and very hungry, but he did not eat. He ignored the example of the General and the Prince, who drank the strong, green tea, and swallowed the saleratus biscuits as if their hearts’ desires at last were gratified. He scowled upon Mrs. Judd when she tried to learn what he disliked the least. But her husband, swaying to and fro in a rocking-chair near the window, had no perception of the gathering cloud, and persisted in questioning his visitors in regard to India, the customs of the people, and finally of their own home life. Mrs. Judd had noticed the black eyebrows and restless lips were becoming more threatening as the many questions were answered; that the two-pronged fork of horn and steel was used solely as an offensive weapon to stab his potatoes and his pie. At last the tempest came. The glass of water he had raised with a trembling hand to his lips was hurled upon the platter of steak, and smashed into a dozen pieces. With a swift movement of his arms, as if to clear the deck, he pushed the pickles among the potatoes and swept his pie upon the floor. Then, after a futile effort to push his chair from the table, he swung his legs about and let himself down from the side. With a face flushed with passion, he spoke rapidly in a language of which no word was familiar to his host or hostess, and ended by pointing dramatically at Mr. Judd, the little brown finger quivering with uncontrollable fury. It appeared to the astonished occupant of the rocking-chair that the curse of Allah was being hurled upon the house of Judd. Standing for a moment in silence and glowering upon them all in turn, the boy swung about with a defiant gesture, stalked through the open door and out of the house. Josiah Judd, whose heart was already sinking under the responsibility of the crown jewels of a kingdom, experienced a sickening collapse in the presence of the Oriental thunderbolt that had just exploded on his peaceful New England hearthstone. His jaw fell, he ceased rocking, and turned his eyes in painful inquiry upon his guests.