improper, Kim had passed the time of day with one or two frivolous
ladies at upper windows in a certain street, and naturally, in the
exchange of compliments, had acquitted himself well. He was about
to acknowledge the driver's last insolence, when his eye - it was
growing dusk - caught a figure sitting by one of the white plaster
gate-pillars in the long sweep of wall.

'Stop!' he cried. 'Stay here. I do not go to the school at once.'

'But what is to pay me for this coming and re-coming?' said the
driver petulantly. 'Is the boy mad? Last time it was a dancing-
girl. This time it is a priest.'

Kim was in the road headlong, patting the dusty feet beneath the
dirty yellow robe.

'I have waited here a day and a half,' the lama's level voice
began. 'Nay, I had a disciple with me. He that was my friend at the
Temple of the Tirthankars gave me a guide for this journey. I came
from Benares in the te-rain, when thy letter was given me. Yes, I
am well fed. I need nothing.'

'But why didst thou not stay with the Kulu woman, O Holy One? In
what way didst thou get to Benares? My heart has been heavy since
we parted.'

'The woman wearied me by constant flux of talk and requiring charms
for children. I separated myself from that company, permitting her
to acquire merit by gifts. She is at least a woman of open hands,
and I made a promise to return to her house if need arose. Then,