detect the
least flaw in the make-up; and lying on a worn teak-wood couch, would
explain by the half-hour together how such and such a caste talked, or
walked, or coughed, or spat, or sneezed, and, since 'hows' matter
little in this world, the 'why' of everything. The Hindu child played
this game clumsily. That little mind, keen as an icicle where tally of
jewels was concerned, could not temper itself to enter another's soul;
but a demon in Kim woke up and sang with joy as he put on the changing
dresses, and changed speech and gesture therewith.

Carried away by enthusiasm, he volunteered to show Lurgan Sahib one
evening how the disciples of a certain caste of fakir, old Lahore
acquaintances, begged doles by the roadside; and what sort of language
he would use to an Englishman, to a Punjabi farmer going to a fair, and
to a woman without a veil. Lurgan Sahib laughed immensely, and begged
Kim to stay as he was, immobile for half an hour--cross-legged,
ash-smeared, and wild-eyed, in the back room. At the end of that time
entered a hulking, obese Babu whose stockinged legs shook with fat, and
Kim opened on him with a shower of wayside chaff. Lurgan Sahib--this
annoyed Kim--watched the Babu and not the play.

'I think,' said the Babu heavily, lighting a cigarette, 'I am of
opeenion that it is most extraordinary and effeecient performance.
Except that you had told me I should have opined that--that--that you
were pulling my legs. How soon can he become approximately effeecient
chain-man? Because then I shall indent for him.'

'That is what he must learn at Lucknow.'

'Then order him to be jolly-dam'-quick. Good-night, Lurgan.' The Babu
swung out with the gait of a bogged cow.

When they were telling over the day's list of visitors, Lurgan Sahib
asked Kim who he thought the man might be.

'God knows!' said Kim cheerily. The tone might almost have deceived
Mahbub Ali, but it failed entirely with the healer of sick pearls.

'That is true. God, He knows; but I wish to know what you think.'

Kim glanced sideways at his companion, whose eye had a way of
compelling truth.

'I--I think he will want me when I come from the school,
but'--confidentially, as Lurgan Sahib nodded approval--'I do not
understand how he can wear many dresses and talk many tongues.'

'Thou wilt understand many things later. He is a writer of tales for a
certain Colonel. His honour is great only in Simla, and it is
noticeable that he ha