A small, husky sob came from behind a pile of carpets.

It was the Hindu child obediently facing towards the wall.
His thin shoulders worked with grief.
'Ah! He is jealous, so jealous.

I wonder if he will try to poison me again in my breakfast, and make me cook it twice.
'Kubbee--kubbee nahin [Never--never.

No!]', came the broken answer.
'And whether he will kill this other boy ?' 'Kubbee--kubbee nahin.' 'What do you think he will do ?' He turned suddenly on Kim.
'Oah! I do not know.

Let him go, perhaps.