At one end of the great-room was a shrine, in which was a curious old idol of baked red clay. This was supposed to be the image of the family god, and each morning offerings were made to it. This morning when the boys came in, they found that the offerings of dishes of rice and wreaths of flowers had already been placed around the old idol. "Thou art late," called out Chola's father, who was sitting on the wide veranda in front of the great-room, smoking his big pipe called a _hookah_. It was very comfortable on the veranda, for all around it hung mats of woven grass to keep off the burning sun and yet let in a cooling breeze. You must know that India is a very hot country and that the people make use of all sorts of things to make them comfortable. That is why the houses all have broad verandas, where the folk can sit and keep much cooler than within doors. "It was all Jam's fault," said Chola, and he sat beside his father and told of the trick the little monkey had played him, which amused his father very much. "You have spoilt Jam," he said. "Some day he will have to be sent back to the forest if he does not behave himself better." Meanwhile the steaming dishes of food were being brought from the cook-house and placed on the big mat in the centre of the great-room; this kept the grandmother and the boys' mothers busy, for they had to serve three separate repasts, one for the men, one for the children, and then, last of all, one for themselves. All this took a long time, for there was Harajar Chumjeree, Chola's father, and his wife Lalla, and Murree Rao, Chola's uncle, and his wife, and his son Mahala, and Mahala's little sister Shriya, and the grandmother, and several cousins and cousins' widows. They all lived in the big stone house, built around a square courtyard, which stood in the middle of a large garden on the outskirts of the beautiful city of Lucknow. "Oh, grandmother, give us the fine white rice this morning with the beautiful curry which thou hast made! None other tastes so good as thine," said Chola, coaxingly, as he and his little cousins seated themselves on the cleanly swept earthen floor of the great-room. "Aha! art thou young rajahs that you should eat the beautiful rice of the feast-days?" said the old lady, as she bustled back to the cook-room; for the very fine rice is costly, and not usually given to children every time they ask for it. Nevertheless, the old lady was always pleased when they praised her curries, and, like other grandmothers the world over, she quite spoiled her little grandsons. So, presently, she came back with a big bowl of the fine white rice and put a pile of it on each child's plate, taking care not to actually touch the plates themselves, and then she made a hole, or basin, in the centre of each pile and filled it with a steaming hot curry. This is one of the dishes that the children were fondest of and there are many ways of preparing it.