piece of paper between them quickly. “Hast thou a little wax to close them on this letter?”
The woman sighed aloud, and Kim relented.
“There is no payment till service has been rendered. Carry this to the Babu, and say it was sent by the Son of the Charm.”
“Ai! Truly! Truly! By a magician—who is like a Sahib.”
“Nay, a Son of the Charm: and ask if there be any answer.”
“But if he offer a rudeness? I—I am afraid.”
Kim laughed. “He is, I have no doubt, very tired and very hungry. The Hills make cold bedfellows. Hai, my”—it was on the tip of his tongue to say Mother, but he turned it to Sister—“thou art a wise and witty woman. By this time all the villages know what has befallen the Sahibs—eh?”